Volt
Volt (Alan Heathcock, Graywolf Press 2011, 208 pages)
A Smalldoggies book review by Lavinia Ludlow
Heathcock's debut collection of stories, Volt, comes highly concentrated and packs a tight punch. In mere paragraphs, he can describe a scene, a situation, and introduce multiple characters, and he does it naturally and in way that is unforced. He has a rustic writing style, reminding me of Mark Twain and Jon Steinbeck, leading me to believe this book was not written in today's fast-paced, technology and information overloaded society, but one of a quieter nature somewhere in the wooded towns and farm-ridden states of America. Content-wise, Volt defies the everyday mundane. A total of eight stories shed light on the barbaric underbelly of society, and how grief-stricken victims react to intense emotional traumas.
The book opens with The Staying Freight, a gritty tale about a man who accidentally tills his son into the ground. Post-incident, he wanders out for "just a walk," but turns it into a Forest Gump-like expedition, searching for sanctuary from his searing guilt, "Under a pale moon, Winslow knew he no longer belonged to the world of men and would forever roam the woods as a lost son of the civil."
His agony disconnects him from his ability to relate to others, so he heads into the woods, takes on a new identity, finds a job in the killing room of a turkey farm, and becomes a circus show where the highest bidder gets to punch him in the stomach. In the end, his wife finds and leads him back to his familiar home; however, it's obvious that he's irreversibly damaged.
In Smoke, a man asks his son, Vernon, to help him cover up the tracks of his murder. Together, the two venture off the beaten path, reminisce about the past, chat about right and wrong, Heaven and Hell, and finally, burn the victim’s body. I wondered what impact the series of events would have on this kid, and whether he'd take the disturbing experiences and apply them for the better or worse. Either way, I envisioned a cycle of violence within the next generations, and a helluva lot of counseling for the next of kin.
To me, Heathcock's strongest writing surfaces in Peacekeeper, a story about a town's police officer, Helen, discovering the butchered remains of a young girl.
Slivers of pink broached the flurries in the western sky. She paused, breathing heavily, and stared down over the valley. A black stream cut the mottled white, powdered trees hunched on their hummocks. In one distant corner of the prairie the last of daylight glinted off a tin roof. Some gentle movement in her periphery made her notice the near trees. Far below, a large white oak still held its autumn leaves, its branches gently waving. Through a gap in its canopy she glimpsed a flash of pale skin. Her breath drew away, and then she was shuffling down the bench and she slipped and fell hard on her back, sliding in the new snow to the base of the slope.
Helen turns vigilante, attempts to cover up the murder and take justice into her own hands by torturing the murderer.
Overall, Volt is a collection built upon the darkest emotions of the human experience. Often, I was searching for glimmers of positivity, whether in the form of a small joke, ironic dialogue, anything to uplift the shadows of every paragraph. However, Heathcock writes the dismal, ugly, and atrocious well, and I look forward to seeing what he'll release in the coming years.
Volt is currently available for purchase through Graywolf Press and other retailers.
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Purchase Volt from Amazon now.
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Learn more about Alan Heathcock at his website.