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Demon Copperhead
Barbara Kingsolver
Please read all CWs before reading. This is a heavy one.
Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver is a saga of a young boy with the world stacked against him, surviving and suffering amidst the backdrop of the Appalachian mountains. This book was impossible to put down; in this case, Charlie Thurston's narration kept me hooked, listening at all hours. It's a story of cycles, poverty, and the forces that exist to keep us determined to succeed.
I love Demon's analysis of class and race in America, through the eyes of Mr. Armstrong. He's forced to question the whys behind his circumstances, and he learns that his community was set up to fail. Poverty is no fault of the impoverished; it's the systems that exploit them. I also appreciate that Demon does experience changing economic circumstances, highlighting how money is finite and access is exclusive to the rich.
I also appreciate the righteous anger that Demon and his friends feel over the term "redneck". It's not enough that the systems pull the people down; Appalachia is the butt of jokes, horror movies, and worse. I have family in Hayesville, North Carolina, and I've seen how even their own relatives refer to them. It is even harder to pull yourself out of the mire when the world expects you to fail. So Demon creates "Redneck" as a way to fight back, channeling his anger into art. I only wish he had started earlier.
As much as this is Demon's tragedy, it's also a tragedy for their families and friends. So much expectation and hope came from the older generation, begging their youngest to escape the cycle of violence and addiction. The oxy epidemic is still rippling through our country, pulling down generations into poverty and addiction against their will. I have a lot of compassion for those who seek relief from the pain of hunger and poverty, and drugs are the easy answer, as awful as it is. But when you're focused on surviving today, future consequences don't matter.
I wish I had this book growing up. It's easily the next great American classic, as apt as David Copperfield was during the Industrial Revolution. This should be required reading for high school. This story is the epitome of America in the new millennia, echoes of what we still must survive today.
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Your Heart Belongs to Me
Dean Ray Koontz
“The arrayed sweets suggested the last meal of a condemned man who, though thirty-four, had never finished growing up.”
This book is unpredictable and somewhat entertaining, but irredeemably illogical and inconsistent. During the first half of the book, Ryan has strong feelings of fate and paranoia that he links to his medications but clearly persist regardless of his regimen. He obsesses over a mystery that doesn't exist because he refused to acknowledge he might just have heart problems. It’s a wild goose chase that goes nowhere, yet Ryan’s wildly contrived conviction regarding the involvement of twins is actually rewarded by the plot.
Ryan is far too self-absorbed for me to care when he feels unwell or his life is endangered, despite his sympathetic fear of losing control over his body and life. Despite his financial success, he describes his life as a struggle whenever given the chance, and is confident for no reason that changing doctors would foil anyone who wishes him ill. I wouldn’t be surprised if his misplaced confidence contributed to the situationship between him and Samantha. Besides for her apparent characteristic of thinking about marriage or sex less when achieving writing success, Sam’s entire character is that she’s smart, to the extent Koontz feels the need to explain the meaning of her witticisms because we cannot figure it out ourselves, while Ryan is suspicious of her for being smart. These traits do not make me more inclined to enjoy explanations of their bad nicknames, or purple prose that likens their “lovemaking” to the sea and refers to her not wanting to have sex with him as "virtuous restraint.”
We never get clear explanations for their situationship, only Sam’s statement that Ryan is missing subtext and therefore not meeting her needs. She’s portrayed as the wiser party despite her atrocious communication skills (just tell him what you need!), and Ryan takes her statement so seriously that he turns over his entire life to seek out the subtext he’s been missing. Koontz portrays this change in a positive light and I simply don’t understand what he means by it.
I like the creepy house in the first half of the book, but it seems to exist solely to add horror elements. The Ismay subplot had potential but also goes nowhere and is out of place. It is confirmed to be supernatural, though all other unlikely occurrences of the book are forced into natural explanations. Conversely, the reality of Ryan’s transplanted heart is fascinating and holds many implications and opportunities for expansion that we unfortunately never get to see. It’s a politically charged twist so utterly fumbled and failed by the rest of the book, as there is a complete disconnect between the suspense clues along the way and the end reveal. Unfortunately, Koontz lost the plot on this one.
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