I started Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead (2023 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction) remembering that I’d read her before and…didn’t mind, many years back. But I’ll be doggoned if I can remember much about the book I read — The Poisonwood Bible. I might just go back and read it again…next year.
But Copperhead is entirely memorable. The book started out a bit awkward for me. Within the first few lines I wasn’t too sure about the writing style — the narrative of a teen-aged drug-addict orphan — but did get used to it. It did drag a bit in the early pages. Felt kind of like Stegner’s Angle of Repose (1972) — just dragged down by tragic event after tragic event with glimmers of hope. The thing about Repose though was that it chronicled the life of a woman with so much promise as it circled the drain into a complex depression. Copperhead moves well — not that it wasn’t in the same direction at times, but there was always the feeling that hey, maybe something decent might actually happen to the poor kid along the way.
And that might be why it was a bit rough nearer the beginning — because that sense of hope just wasn’t really there. I felt like, “Great. Another book that plunges us into a malaise and then shows us the truth about how much life sucks when it’s all said and done.” I honestly was getting ready to plug it into my rankings either before, or after Repose. Maybe a little higher. Right after The Goldfinch (Donna Tartt, 2014, which I’ve ranked as number 7 out of the 15 I’ve read so far — Repose sits at 9). It had that Goldfinch feel in some respects — orphaned kid slips into a world of addiction. That kind of stuff.
But something happened a little over halfway through that pushed the book significantly higher. I started getting glimpses of an intelligence in the character — who stayed resigned to living a crappy life through most of the book, even when things seemed to be looking up — that made him more interesting to me. I was getting a feel for the character and the story.
And of course, as I’ve mentioned before, Kingsolver did an incredible job capturing the character brilliantly. An amazing feat, considering she’s in her mid-60’s writing from the view of a young, male drug addict. You’d think that would be about as far away from a life experience as just about anyone could understand, but she makes it entirely believable with a title character that ends up being so very likeable throughout the book.
By about three-quarters of the way through (total of about 550 pages), I found myself wondering how high on the list it would go. I mean, I’d just finished (and raved about) The Orphan Master’s Son (2013). Getting two great books in a row would certainly be a good thing for me. I knew nothing would replace Orphan Master, but Copperhead was looking to give Faulkner’s The Reivers (1963 — my number 2 so far) a run for its money.
And the thing is, Kingsolver wraps it up masterfully, with such a wonderful balance that yes, it did knock Faulkner out of the number 2 spot. It’s a great story. A great read. And it only gets better as it makes its way to a brilliant finish.