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Not since S.E. Hinton (The Outsiders) has a female novelist penned such
a tough and titillating portrait of lower-class, crime-ridden manhood. Set in
"beautiful, ruined" western Pennsylvania, amid Eat n' Parks and Lick n' Putts,
Tawni O'Dell's Back Roads follows Harley Altmyer as he walks a raging,
self-conscious line between crime and innocence. Why is he being held by the
authorities, and what's he so mad about? In the recent past, it's his mother,
who murdered his father and went to jail for life. In the far past, it's Dad
himself: an abusive, hopeless man. In the present, it's the responsibility for
his three younger sisters, which makes him fantasize about smashing their faces
in until they "spit up bloody macaroni and cheese."
But Harley still has a conscience--barely. He doesn't strike his sisters;
he's been trying to protect them. The oldest is sassy Amber, 16, who's having
sex on the living-room couch with townies who abuse her; next is frighteningly
stoic 12-year-old Misty, with eyes "a glazed brown like a medicine bottle"; the
youngest is adorable Jody, who at 6 pens to-do lists with items such as "PRAY
FOR DADDYS SOWL." Overburdened with the practicalities of life, and the
ever-mounting losses, Harley has started seeing his own words floating in the
air in front of his face. "CLOSURE. TRUTH. MOST GUYS."
This first novel opens well. O'Dell does an impeccable job of making Harley
both brutal and forgivable. Here, for instance, he retreats to his basement
room: "I lay there until dawn, thinking about Dad, and feeling the same useless
frustration I had felt the first time I had seen him piss on a sparkling white
drift of pure new snow."
But that delicacy is soon lost, and Back Roads risks becoming an
overabundant affair, pitched high, with a roller-coaster trajectory. Harley's
anger metamorphoses into an almost bloodthirsty lust for his sexy, middle-aged
neighbor, which stirs up myriad forbidden family secrets. Misty, it turns out,
has been hiding something. Amber revolts. And even Jody's scribbles turn
malevolent. While the writing is good throughout, the tension and plotting
assume an unpleasant adolescent posture--bodice-ripping passion and mordant
gloom combined. Nonetheless, O'Dell's assured and touching portrait of her
protagonist emerges unscathed. You will likely remember luckless, fated Harley
Altmyer long after his tsunamic tale has receded. And no matter what the judge
decides, you will understand why this impoverished, angry young man was probably
the most innocent one of all. --Jean Lenihan |
