one

Like Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, this is told in several voices; like Faulkner, this is the fetid South only post-Katrina; like Faulkner an old woman is dying and her family flutter like dust motes and like Faulkner this is novel writing of the highest order. The undead linger, seen by some. There are lynchings and someone is skinned alive. An endless car journey through nowhere backwater towns, with a remorselessly puking child to fetch a man from prison. And slowly the approaching death of the matriarch works like the formation of a black hole sucking the family inwards.

This is the first of Ward’s work that I’ve read, it won’t be the last. Flights of stunning lyricism abut earthy monosyllabic conversation. This book is close to extraordinary. I feel sure that Ward will write something extraordinary, someday, probably soon.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: