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3.31 AVERAGE
3.31 AVERAGE
When do you become the thing you’ve kept at bay?
The answer to this question is at the heart of the latest novel by Ivy Pochoda. It is the story of Florence Baum, a young white woman from a wealthy LA family, serving time in a women’s prison in Arizona in the midst of the COVID 19 pandemic and now known as Florida. The tale is also that of Diana Diosmary Sandoval, called DIos, a young woman of color from an impoverished background who was able to secure a scholarship to an elite East Coast university but who was convicted of a violent crime and imprisoned as well. Two women from very different backgrounds who have ended up in the same place, who might be very much alike or completely different. Their stories are told in alternating voices and chapters, sometimes by Dios, others by Florida, and occasionally by a fellow cellmate Kace (who may or may not be completely reliable, as she continually hears the voices of dead people in her mind and eventually has to yell out what the voices are telling her). Are Florida and Dios victims of outside forces, imprisoned by a careless justice system, or might they be deeply angry and violent people who just happen to be women (or both)? They are definitely not friends, and not even allies….and while one of them believes them to be the same at heart, the other does not. During a power blackout, violence erupts inside the prison and another of the inmates. Tina, is brutally beaten and killed. Tina had been Florida’s roommate….did Florida kill her? Or was it Dios? Things between the two women grow increasingly tense…..and then they find that they have both been chosen for an early release and probation as part of the prison’s efforts to lighten the population and prevent the rampant spread of COVID. They will have to spend two weeks in quarantine in a nearby hotel, and then can make plans to settle elsewhere for the rest of their probation. These are not women who are good at following rules, though, and soon one of them hits the road headed for the West Coast. The other follows on her heels, and violence is along for the ride.
At the beginning of the book, Kace tells the reader of a mural on a wall in LA , which all who view it swear has figures on it that move, that tells the end of the story of Florida and Dios….Dios standing at the end of a street with Florida marching towards her. A modern day High Noon, in an urban and feminist way. Between that beginning and the end of the novel, the reader learns slowly and in layers who each of these women are, what set them on the track to their criminal convictions, and why they are bound together. There is also the lawman, or in this case the law woman Detective Lobos, who is on their trail to bring them back into custody and stop the violent crimes they leave in their wake. Lobos has her own battles with past regrets and violence which may either hinder her ability to do her job or light the way for her to accomplish it. Are women capable of harboring such darkness and violence? If so, are they born with it or does it develop to deal with the cruelties and betrayals of which they have been victims? The story is gritty and bleak, with elements of a Western but it is more a psychological puzzle. Each character is flawed, and none can be relied upon for an honest appraisal of their own character. I found it an interesting if not exactly enjoyable read, well-written and nuanced. Readers who enjoy Cormac McCarthy might find something with which to connect here. Authors like Dennis Lehane, whose publishing imprint published an earlier Pochoda novel, and Michael Connelly are also fans of the writing, so those who enjoy their books may also want to give this a try. Thanks to MCD/Farrah Strauss and Giroux and NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advanced reader’s copy of Sing Her Down.
The answer to this question is at the heart of the latest novel by Ivy Pochoda. It is the story of Florence Baum, a young white woman from a wealthy LA family, serving time in a women’s prison in Arizona in the midst of the COVID 19 pandemic and now known as Florida. The tale is also that of Diana Diosmary Sandoval, called DIos, a young woman of color from an impoverished background who was able to secure a scholarship to an elite East Coast university but who was convicted of a violent crime and imprisoned as well. Two women from very different backgrounds who have ended up in the same place, who might be very much alike or completely different. Their stories are told in alternating voices and chapters, sometimes by Dios, others by Florida, and occasionally by a fellow cellmate Kace (who may or may not be completely reliable, as she continually hears the voices of dead people in her mind and eventually has to yell out what the voices are telling her). Are Florida and Dios victims of outside forces, imprisoned by a careless justice system, or might they be deeply angry and violent people who just happen to be women (or both)? They are definitely not friends, and not even allies….and while one of them believes them to be the same at heart, the other does not. During a power blackout, violence erupts inside the prison and another of the inmates. Tina, is brutally beaten and killed. Tina had been Florida’s roommate….did Florida kill her? Or was it Dios? Things between the two women grow increasingly tense…..and then they find that they have both been chosen for an early release and probation as part of the prison’s efforts to lighten the population and prevent the rampant spread of COVID. They will have to spend two weeks in quarantine in a nearby hotel, and then can make plans to settle elsewhere for the rest of their probation. These are not women who are good at following rules, though, and soon one of them hits the road headed for the West Coast. The other follows on her heels, and violence is along for the ride.
At the beginning of the book, Kace tells the reader of a mural on a wall in LA , which all who view it swear has figures on it that move, that tells the end of the story of Florida and Dios….Dios standing at the end of a street with Florida marching towards her. A modern day High Noon, in an urban and feminist way. Between that beginning and the end of the novel, the reader learns slowly and in layers who each of these women are, what set them on the track to their criminal convictions, and why they are bound together. There is also the lawman, or in this case the law woman Detective Lobos, who is on their trail to bring them back into custody and stop the violent crimes they leave in their wake. Lobos has her own battles with past regrets and violence which may either hinder her ability to do her job or light the way for her to accomplish it. Are women capable of harboring such darkness and violence? If so, are they born with it or does it develop to deal with the cruelties and betrayals of which they have been victims? The story is gritty and bleak, with elements of a Western but it is more a psychological puzzle. Each character is flawed, and none can be relied upon for an honest appraisal of their own character. I found it an interesting if not exactly enjoyable read, well-written and nuanced. Readers who enjoy Cormac McCarthy might find something with which to connect here. Authors like Dennis Lehane, whose publishing imprint published an earlier Pochoda novel, and Michael Connelly are also fans of the writing, so those who enjoy their books may also want to give this a try. Thanks to MCD/Farrah Strauss and Giroux and NetGalley for the opportunity to read an advanced reader’s copy of Sing Her Down.
This novel begins in a violent women's prison in Arizona, with the voices of three women. There's Kace, who hears the voices of the dead; Florida, who comes from an affluent family from Hancock Park and who was so high when she drove her boyfriend away from where he set a fire that killed a man, that she has no memory of it; and Dios, who loves singing narcocorridos and being feared for her random acts of extreme violence. When both Dios and Florida are paroled at the start of the pandemic, Florida impulsively jumps on an illegal bus to Los Angeles, hoping to go home. But Dios follows her onto the bus and before the bus reaches its destination, both Dios and Florida are not just breaking parole, they are on the run.
This is a novel not about the pandemic, but set in a dystopian Los Angeles ravaged by the shuttering of businesses and the explosion of homelessness. Centered on the skid row neighborhoods around downtown, there's a real feel of hopelessness and of end times to this world, despite its proximity to the comfortable Tudor-style manors and shady avenues of Hancock Park. There's a recurring character from her previous novel, These Women, who serves to ground this novel while Florida and Dios circle each other in a way that feels like a Western, albeit one with an urban setting.
There's a lot of over-the-top violence at the start of this novel and while that isn't something that usually bothers me, Pochoda's writing made it just that bit more vivid and real. It's a wild beginning, that leaves the reader ready for anything. Pochoda is an interesting author and her version of Los Angeles, one of dirty street corners and a capacity to explode into violence at a moment's notice, is a compelling one.
This is a novel not about the pandemic, but set in a dystopian Los Angeles ravaged by the shuttering of businesses and the explosion of homelessness. Centered on the skid row neighborhoods around downtown, there's a real feel of hopelessness and of end times to this world, despite its proximity to the comfortable Tudor-style manors and shady avenues of Hancock Park. There's a recurring character from her previous novel, These Women, who serves to ground this novel while Florida and Dios circle each other in a way that feels like a Western, albeit one with an urban setting.
There's a lot of over-the-top violence at the start of this novel and while that isn't something that usually bothers me, Pochoda's writing made it just that bit more vivid and real. It's a wild beginning, that leaves the reader ready for anything. Pochoda is an interesting author and her version of Los Angeles, one of dirty street corners and a capacity to explode into violence at a moment's notice, is a compelling one.
Ivy Pochoda signed my copy of this book with the inscription, "Buckle up." She was so correct. This was a wild ride. Pochoda proves that a tough, violent woman protagonist can capture our imagination and sympathy as any such male character has done for decades. This tale is not just hard-boiled. This tale is hard-boiled, water-evaporated, egg incinerated. It's brutal. But Pochoda sees a world that is intentionally invisible to most of us. She creates characters who bleed. She's a helluva writer.
Sing Her Down by Ivy Pochoda begins in Arizona women’s prison and ends at the corner of Olympic and Western in Los Angeles. Florence “Florida” Baum and Diosmary Sandoval are inmates at a women’s correctional facility at the time of the pandemic.
Dios knows Florida’s secret about her actual involvement in the murder of two men. Florida told a former cellmate the secret. Unfortunately the cellmate started to tell people so Florida practically beat her to death. Dios ended up killing the cellmate and thought that she and Florida were kindred spirits. Their fellow inmate Kace, who carries voices of the dead within her, also knows the secret because
Florida and Dios get an early release from prison but are supposed to remain in quarantine for a period of time in Arizona. Since Florida’s car and former life is in Los Angeles, she begins to plan to violate her parole and cross state lines. Dios follows Florida wherever she goes. She’s obsessed with getting Florida to be who really is – a savage killer.
Florida was a party girl with no one who had her best interest in mind, not even her mother. Every man in her life was a loser and an abuser. In my opinion, she was angry about how a couple of drug dealers mistreated her. So she convinced her boyfriend to set a trap for them. He accepted the prison sentence that should have been Florida’s punishment.
Although she is probably a killer, Florida is mostly likeable. She’s more of an anti-hero than a villain. Her violent nature is under control until it isn’t, unlike Dios who is a homicidal maniac. Dios has killed several people since being released from prison approximately two weeks before.
Florida used to live a glamorous life and drive a fast car. Since being in prison, she’s trying to figure out if she is Florence or Florida. Aren’t many of us trying to figure out who we really are?
Detective Lobos of Los Angeles is on the trail of Florida and Dios. She is also trying to avoid her abusive soon-to-be-ex husband. He pops up out of thin air to harass her. Although the ex doesn’t know anything about the trail of bodies following the former prisoners, he makes catching the elusive Dios and Florida very difficult.
Dios never has trouble finding Florida. It’s a little spooky. In the end, Florida finds Dios for their last meeting.
There’s a mural at the intersection of Olympic and Western that depicts the final showdown of Florida and Dios. Some people say it’s alive and has movement. People will probably talk about the story behind the mural for a long time. It reminds me of how people still talk about famous confrontations, such as the gunfight at the O.K. Corral and the fictional version of the showdown between Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo.
If you like mysteries, westerns, or stories about people on the run, then you will love Sing Her Down.
If you are an inappropriate corrections officer or some other sort of degenerate, then I can’t say whether you would like this book or not. You should but you might not have good taste or judgment.
Dios knows Florida’s secret about her actual involvement in the murder of two men. Florida told a former cellmate the secret. Unfortunately the cellmate started to tell people so Florida practically beat her to death. Dios ended up killing the cellmate and thought that she and Florida were kindred spirits. Their fellow inmate Kace, who carries voices of the dead within her, also knows the secret because
Florida and Dios get an early release from prison but are supposed to remain in quarantine for a period of time in Arizona. Since Florida’s car and former life is in Los Angeles, she begins to plan to violate her parole and cross state lines. Dios follows Florida wherever she goes. She’s obsessed with getting Florida to be who really is – a savage killer.
Florida was a party girl with no one who had her best interest in mind, not even her mother. Every man in her life was a loser and an abuser. In my opinion, she was angry about how a couple of drug dealers mistreated her. So she convinced her boyfriend to set a trap for them. He accepted the prison sentence that should have been Florida’s punishment.
Although she is probably a killer, Florida is mostly likeable. She’s more of an anti-hero than a villain. Her violent nature is under control until it isn’t, unlike Dios who is a homicidal maniac. Dios has killed several people since being released from prison approximately two weeks before.
Florida used to live a glamorous life and drive a fast car. Since being in prison, she’s trying to figure out if she is Florence or Florida. Aren’t many of us trying to figure out who we really are?
Detective Lobos of Los Angeles is on the trail of Florida and Dios. She is also trying to avoid her abusive soon-to-be-ex husband. He pops up out of thin air to harass her. Although the ex doesn’t know anything about the trail of bodies following the former prisoners, he makes catching the elusive Dios and Florida very difficult.
Dios never has trouble finding Florida. It’s a little spooky. In the end, Florida finds Dios for their last meeting.
There’s a mural at the intersection of Olympic and Western that depicts the final showdown of Florida and Dios. Some people say it’s alive and has movement. People will probably talk about the story behind the mural for a long time. It reminds me of how people still talk about famous confrontations, such as the gunfight at the O.K. Corral and the fictional version of the showdown between Doc Holliday and Johnny Ringo.
If you like mysteries, westerns, or stories about people on the run, then you will love Sing Her Down.
If you are an inappropriate corrections officer or some other sort of degenerate, then I can’t say whether you would like this book or not. You should but you might not have good taste or judgment.
dark
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I like the concept but I’m unsure about the execution. A study of violence and gender that could have and should have been more nuanced in all of the other identities informing each of the main characters. I think I have an eyebrow raised/steady side eye because of the racial dynamics that are being orchestrated by white female author… I think she did a good job for the most part… but some characters felt tokenized (Dios).
The audiobook was very good—great narration and steady pacing that made a lyrical, abstract work more tangible.
The audiobook was very good—great narration and steady pacing that made a lyrical, abstract work more tangible.
It's 2020 and the pandemic time. Florence Baum, aka Florida, and Diana Dios Sandoval – Dios – are on early release from a woman's prison in Arizona and going to LA. Dios says, "The world is on pause. (…) But we aren't. We are on the move. (…) The world isn't paying attention to us. We can do what we want. This is our time."
"Sing Her Down" feels like an apocalyptic place with two young women moving through the landscape of cheap motels, homeless tent sites by Los Angeles's freeways, and empty, deserted bars. It's hot, with the scorching sun and empty streets, where "discarded masks and gloves swirl like tumbleweed." The women are not friends, and they don't travel together – instead, Dios follows Florida on the mission to make her accept who she is - a woman embracing violence, someone who progresses from minor misdemeanors to crime, not because falling under the influence of others, especially "bad men," but because of her inclination. Dios is already a murderer, and she wants to "sing Florida down." It manifests in her singing narcocorridos (Mexican drug ballad songs) which adds to the weird, hypnotic atmosphere of their inescapable destiny. Another woman, Detective Lobos, follows them, aware that Florida is a magnet and Dios is magnetized and that she'll get Florida by following Dios. The end becomes a classic, western-style showdown, immortalized in a mural.
Ivy Pochoda decided to write it after being challenged by herself and her friend to write a female version of "Blood Meridian." Violent and poetic, it shows women as violent creatures, and the violence is not easily explained. It's not born of past traumatic experiences as Florida and Dios are relatively educated and intelligent, and their past doesn't justify such extreme behavior. To her credit, Florida tries to escape Dios and start a new life, returning to her mother's house, but Dios is a skillful predator, and Florida is the willing prey.
This book is undoubtedly engaging, a mixture of a psychological thriller, a modern Western, and an apocalyptic showcase of the pandemic decline. It's also highly stylized, similar to a ballad, somehow idealizing the main characters and making them suburban legends. In the tradition of Thelma and Louise, but much more determined and violent, Florida and Dios display the same degree of violence as it's associated with men, if not worse. It's the road novel, but the road leads directly to self-destruction.
"Sing Her Down" feels like an apocalyptic place with two young women moving through the landscape of cheap motels, homeless tent sites by Los Angeles's freeways, and empty, deserted bars. It's hot, with the scorching sun and empty streets, where "discarded masks and gloves swirl like tumbleweed." The women are not friends, and they don't travel together – instead, Dios follows Florida on the mission to make her accept who she is - a woman embracing violence, someone who progresses from minor misdemeanors to crime, not because falling under the influence of others, especially "bad men," but because of her inclination. Dios is already a murderer, and she wants to "sing Florida down." It manifests in her singing narcocorridos (Mexican drug ballad songs) which adds to the weird, hypnotic atmosphere of their inescapable destiny. Another woman, Detective Lobos, follows them, aware that Florida is a magnet and Dios is magnetized and that she'll get Florida by following Dios. The end becomes a classic, western-style showdown, immortalized in a mural.
Ivy Pochoda decided to write it after being challenged by herself and her friend to write a female version of "Blood Meridian." Violent and poetic, it shows women as violent creatures, and the violence is not easily explained. It's not born of past traumatic experiences as Florida and Dios are relatively educated and intelligent, and their past doesn't justify such extreme behavior. To her credit, Florida tries to escape Dios and start a new life, returning to her mother's house, but Dios is a skillful predator, and Florida is the willing prey.
This book is undoubtedly engaging, a mixture of a psychological thriller, a modern Western, and an apocalyptic showcase of the pandemic decline. It's also highly stylized, similar to a ballad, somehow idealizing the main characters and making them suburban legends. In the tradition of Thelma and Louise, but much more determined and violent, Florida and Dios display the same degree of violence as it's associated with men, if not worse. It's the road novel, but the road leads directly to self-destruction.
This was compared to Killing Eve so I knew I had to read it. I enjoyed the first half and was enthralled by prison life. Florida's backstory was interesting and made you understand her behavior. The multiple POVs were unique and had a Greek chorus feel with the one narrator still in prison hearing ghosts. This is definitely a slow burn and at times I felt like nothing had happened in the past few chapters. The narration was great and did make the story very engaging.
adventurous
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes