Published by Random House on 07 Aug 2018
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This moving debut novel is a profoundly American story. Set in a circa-1960s rural South Dakota--a hardscrabble place of cattle buyers, homegrown ballet studios, casual drug abuse, and unmitigated pressure to conform, all amid the great natural beauty of the region--the book portrays a loving but struggling young family in turmoil, and two siblings, René and Leon, who opt for different but equally extreme means of escaping the burdens of home. By turns funny and tragic, lyrical and terse, Paula Saunders' debut examines the classic American questions: What is to become of the vulnerable in a culture of striving and power? And what is the effect of this striving and power on both those who dominate and those who are overrun? It is an affecting novel, in which the author's compassionate narration allows us to sympathise, in turn, with everyone involved.
This is a midwestern family saga that starts off as a regular small town story.
I was immediately taken by the oldest child Leon, a sweet spirit, and by the second child René, a wild spirit. They are very much opposites, but they have love for each other. However, their childhood is far from charmed.
What was she supposed to do? Cut her hair because theirs wasn't as long? Keep herself to a single spin on the bars because the best of them could manage only two? Misspell all the spelling words on purpose? Just how self-annihilating did she have to be to avoid crushing these delicate prairie flowers?
Their father Al, who is away more often than not, can hardly stand Leon but has a soft spot for René, whereas their mother Eve is protective over Leon and has little patience for René; Al and Eve are constantly at odds with one another.
She couldn't help but wonder where all the hurt and anger went after something like that. Did it just disappear as a person grew older, dissolving in a mist of resignation and forgetfulness? Or did it crystallize, so that you carried it with you, building layer upon layer as the years went by, each incident adding to a more solid core of pain, until you came to face the world more rock than flesh?
As we follow this family, we see how parents shape who their children become. Every once in awhile, the story flashes forward and we see how different Leon's and René's lives turn out. The contrast between present and future, particularly of Leon's present and future, kept me increasingly intrigued throughout the book, wondering what in their lives could have brought about such a change.
Just like there was a whole world from her side, there was a whole world from his side; but somehow, at the beginning and end of it all, the two of them were the same: just flesh and blood and feelings.
However, I didn't grow to understand the characters as much as I would have liked. It was as if I got the beginning and end of the lives of these characters, but not the middle part to connect the two. The anticipation of the beginning and end meeting with a rich middle kept me excited about the story. But when I got to the end, I was still waiting for that connection to happen. Without a rich middle or something deeper to define the individual stories, the paths of these characters seemed too cliche--tumultuous for sure, but cliche. Rather, the middle was seemingly filled with a repeat of the same fights in different situations with nothing new learned.
The repetition is why I knocked my rating down to 3 stars, but otherwise, I was along for the ride, rooting for Leon and René, feeling warm at the tender moments, and feeling sad when they were misunderstood. I just wished for a deeper understanding of the motivations beneath the surface-level events (for all the characters, not just Leon and René. Oh yeah, they also have a youngest sister Jayne who's as overlooked in the story as she was in this review oops).
