A TREE BORN CROOKED
Steph Post. Pandamoon
Publishing, $15.99 paperback (234p) ISBN: 9780990338963
Bear with me because I’m
going to do this thing a little unconventionally and start out with the ending
of the book. Don’t panic: no spoilers here.
Just from reading the jacket copy or the first few pages of Steph Post’s
A Tree Born Crooked, you’ll know that
down-on-his-luck, ex-Florida native James Hart is on his way home.
The narrative kicks along
dragging landmines that intermittently explode into the next bleak landscape of
armpits, stale fries, fried chicken and booze so seamlessly that by the time
Post unleashes these last words, “There was no denying it now. He was home,”
you’re so soaked in this world that you feel like you’ve suddenly hit on a rain
shower. And it feels as refreshing and right as it does to Hart.
Which is to say, everything
you need to know about misfits is summed up in the idea that crooked trees
stand best together, or that family is king, even if you have to settle for the
self-manufactured kind. This is, of course, the story behind the title and
clearly a lesson that Post has learned well for herself.
Blogging candidly about her experiences with the “Writing Life” and insights gleaned from “Interviews” with other less-conventional authors, she is forming her own little community of creatives.
But besides these intriguing
blog shots, what I love best about Steph’s writing, and this book in
particular, is her plastic-furniture-hanging-out bluntness, her
no-pancake-makeup-covering-the-bruise, bare-knuckles style prose that makes me
want to name a nail polish after her, or at least some sort of trailer siding.
And while I hate to make
comparisons to other writers, Post’s Tree-Born
vibe is very Carson McCullers meets fearless inventiveness of Virginia
Woolf, with maybe a Barry Hannah daiquiri air-brushed in. Yet nothing is too
over the top, despite characters named Rabbit, Alligator Mafia hitmen and a cover
that feels like a belly tattoo.
As a debut novel it is
polished, tight and undeniably literary (nothing wrong with character-driven)
in a world of crime thrillers over-saturated with the formulaic. But this is
perhaps not a surprise to some, coming as the book does out of the quirky independent
Pandamoon Publishing which claims Chicago-tough memoirist Emily Belden among
its authors. Pandamoon is also slowly working at building up its “Southern Lit
Grit” catalog, a crown in which Post is the cock-eyed jewel. (September 2014)
Purchase A Tree Born Crooked HERE.
Reviewer bio: C.A. LaRue is a
writer/artist working out of New Orleans. She studied creative writing at
Hollins University and holds a B.S. from the University of New Orleans. She is
a registered member of the Tlingit Nation of Alaska with recent work in Deep
South Magazine, The Review Review and Ardor Literary Magazine. Find her at http://bonesparkblog.wordpress.com
or on twitter @bonesparkblog.
