I love books. I love to sell books. One of the greatest pleasures is reading a great book and sharing the joy with colleagues, friends, family. So it really bugs me when I hear people making snap judgments—"Eeeeewwww. Who wants to read a book about __________."
Who wants to read a book about a Catholic priest accused of molesting a child?
Who wants to read about the health care crisis?
Who wants to read about a sex offender?
Who wants to read about a bad marriage that ends in murder/suicide?
Who wants to read about . . . ?
Well, when you put it that way . . . Pshaw. Are we such trained seals that all we can see is the ew factor? I don't want to think so. I hope not. Because those "who wants to read" mentioned above are some great books.
The Catholic priest? That's Jennifer Haigh's new novel, Faith, just out now. I love Haigh; she's a terrific writer who has reached and grown with each book. Yes, a priest is accused of a heinous crime. But that is only the entry point into a story about family, society, religion, choice, and yes belief, especially in ourselves and those we love. Once I started, I couldn't put the book down. That doesn't happen often these days.
The health care crisis? That would be Lionel Shriver's So Much for That, a gripping, darkly humorous, and poignant story that asks the question: how much is one life worth? It puts a human face on the high cost of for-profit insurance and it's not pretty, but it sure is well done and it sure makes you angry. Many critics did not get this book. Poor them. But the nominating committee for the National Book Awards did. Though it didn't win the top prize, it got the notice it richly deserves. I raced through this one too. So deceptively easy to read, so devastating in its message. Yet hopeful too. Really.
The sex offender? That's Russell Banks' new novel, Lost Memory of Skin, coming out in October. A heartbreaking portrait of our punitive modern society, it's the story of a young sex offender named the Kid, and the sociology professor who befriends him. A portrait of the outsider caught in circumstances greater than himself, it's a novel that will make you sad, make you angry, and make you think. You won't look at shows like To Catch a Predator in the same way again.
The marriage/murder-suicide? That is the extraordinary Caribou Island by David Vann. Painful? Yes. Wrenching? Yes. Devastating? Most definitely. And a breathtaking, brilliant, insightful, intense, and powerful tale of two hurt people who can't go on yet can't let go, set against the background of the beautiful and dangerous Alaskan wilderness. Vann brings into focus the myths of rugged individuality and the empty promise of the frontier in an existential tale of unfulfilled dreams and stark reality. Vann is brilliant—the Europeans know it. Many American critics have noticed. It's time readers shared in his mastery too.
Some of the greatest books probe the darkness of human nature. They aren't easy reads, but anyone with a brain doesn't want easy as a steady diet. Novels tell us truths about ourselves, reflect the realities we don't choose but are often forced to cope with. Whether it's Cormac McCarthy's Border Trilogy or the Pulitzer Prize-winning The Road, Robert Stone's Outerbridge Reach, Emma Donoghue's The Room, the novels of Faulkner, James Salter, Camus, Ishiguro, and the authors listed here, deep dark fiction is challenging, exhilarating, and unforgettable. I joyfully embrace this dark world and wouldn't miss these books and writers for the world. If you want a great meaty book—it's out there waiting for you.
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