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katrinky's review against another edition
4.0
This book is less than 200 pages long and I've had to take four breaks from it since I started it last night. Note: HAD to take. I've never read more brutal stories in my life; murder, war, scalping, car wrecks, rape (including incest), and the little horrors humans inflict on each other without even using weapons. Again set in the Ozarks, where Woodrell is from and still lives, the stories of The Outlaw Album are glimpses into all the darkest corners of human poverty, human destruction, and human life that seem too horrific to be true but are so horrible precisely because they are written in an observant, confident, unflinching voice that says they are true, they are coming true on any day but especially today. Reading Daniel Woodrell might push me to be a better writer, but I'll be damned if I didn't sleep with the light on last night to avoid Uncle's eyes that follow you across the room.
nematome's review against another edition
4.0
My library tried to trick me into not reading this by listing one of the narrators as the author, but it takes a lot more than that to fool this lady. Just look at that cover – dead trees, fallow fields, ominous clouds, frigid rivers, and a murder of crows. Of course I want to read this book!
Eight of these stories (out of twelve) have already been published in other sources but I hadn’t previously read any of them. These stories feature outlaws yes, but also victims, veterans, the lost, and the mentally unstable. They are grim, but they are also very matter of fact: these crimes, these horrors, are all a part of life and they are rendered with a stark beauty. They are sometimes darkly humorous, as in The Echoes of Neighborly Bones, about a man who murders his interloping Northern neighbor and then keeps the body so he can revisit his rage whenever he likes:
“Once Boshell finally killed his neighbor he couldn’t seem to quit killing him.”
(Which is also one hell of an opening line for this novel.)
They are sometimes gut-twisting and powerful, as in Black Step, about a young Iraq war veteran who’s returned home and now doesn’t quite know how to live anymore. I had to read that one twice because I loved it so much.
”They tell me Dad committed suicide for reasons he dreamed up. His mind was too active. He had a round mind and it roamed. He could imagine any king of hurt. He could imagine the many miseries of this world flying over from everywhere to roost between his ears, but he couldn't imagine how to get away. Ma loved him passed his end and has never kissed another man. She loved his mind, his round, roaming mind that made her feel a glowing inside her skin between those spells of blight.”
Other stories feel almost like a celebration of the fringe, the odd, the damaged. I really enjoyed One United, which is a surreal adventure narrated by a schizophrenic girl, and Returning the River about an outlaw son who burns down a brand new home so that his dying father can see their river through his window once more.
Each of these characters packs a punch. They are hardened and twisted and strong. They are set in their ways, but they’re also survivors. Even as they’re acting out their ugliness, they seem to demand understanding. This is a collection that I won’t soon forget.
Eight of these stories (out of twelve) have already been published in other sources but I hadn’t previously read any of them. These stories feature outlaws yes, but also victims, veterans, the lost, and the mentally unstable. They are grim, but they are also very matter of fact: these crimes, these horrors, are all a part of life and they are rendered with a stark beauty. They are sometimes darkly humorous, as in The Echoes of Neighborly Bones, about a man who murders his interloping Northern neighbor and then keeps the body so he can revisit his rage whenever he likes:
“Once Boshell finally killed his neighbor he couldn’t seem to quit killing him.”
(Which is also one hell of an opening line for this novel.)
They are sometimes gut-twisting and powerful, as in Black Step, about a young Iraq war veteran who’s returned home and now doesn’t quite know how to live anymore. I had to read that one twice because I loved it so much.
”They tell me Dad committed suicide for reasons he dreamed up. His mind was too active. He had a round mind and it roamed. He could imagine any king of hurt. He could imagine the many miseries of this world flying over from everywhere to roost between his ears, but he couldn't imagine how to get away. Ma loved him passed his end and has never kissed another man. She loved his mind, his round, roaming mind that made her feel a glowing inside her skin between those spells of blight.”
Other stories feel almost like a celebration of the fringe, the odd, the damaged. I really enjoyed One United, which is a surreal adventure narrated by a schizophrenic girl, and Returning the River about an outlaw son who burns down a brand new home so that his dying father can see their river through his window once more.
Each of these characters packs a punch. They are hardened and twisted and strong. They are set in their ways, but they’re also survivors. Even as they’re acting out their ugliness, they seem to demand understanding. This is a collection that I won’t soon forget.
caitlinxmartin's review against another edition
4.0
Daniel Woodrell became one of my favorite writers when I discovered Winter's Bone, a book that has a place in my top 10 favorite books. His stories are sly, brutally honest, removed from redneck stereotype - firmly rooted in a particular kind of reality. He also writes beautifully. Winter's Bone is a book that made me ache the first time I read and did so again after I finished it and read it all over a second time.
The Outlaw Album is a book of short stories - capsulized moments of revenge, of what can happen when people are pushed to the edge. It is strongly of its place - one that I know well from the time I spent living in Arkansas.
I spent a summer in college going out on the Little Rock library's bookmobile. Twice a week we sat in the big bookmobile in a suburban parking with lots of choice and air conditioning. The other two days we took the smaller bookmobile and drove back roads up into the Ouachita mountains - no air conditioning, but breathtaking beauty and patrons who brought us food from their gardens and homemade sausages. I can remember riding those roads through the woods with trees that formed a canopy over the road and wild roses growing in the trees that colored them all like a young girl's blush.
Daniel Woodrell gets the place and the people and its stories. His voice reminds me most of singers like Meredith Sisco or Levon Helm or early early Loretta Lynn or any of the people I've heard singing Appalachin folk songs and hymns at tent revivals, church, and bluegrass gatherings. The Outlaw Album isn't Winter's Bone, but it's still got that lonely soulful mountain feel and that's good enough.
The Outlaw Album is a book of short stories - capsulized moments of revenge, of what can happen when people are pushed to the edge. It is strongly of its place - one that I know well from the time I spent living in Arkansas.
I spent a summer in college going out on the Little Rock library's bookmobile. Twice a week we sat in the big bookmobile in a suburban parking with lots of choice and air conditioning. The other two days we took the smaller bookmobile and drove back roads up into the Ouachita mountains - no air conditioning, but breathtaking beauty and patrons who brought us food from their gardens and homemade sausages. I can remember riding those roads through the woods with trees that formed a canopy over the road and wild roses growing in the trees that colored them all like a young girl's blush.
Daniel Woodrell gets the place and the people and its stories. His voice reminds me most of singers like Meredith Sisco or Levon Helm or early early Loretta Lynn or any of the people I've heard singing Appalachin folk songs and hymns at tent revivals, church, and bluegrass gatherings. The Outlaw Album isn't Winter's Bone, but it's still got that lonely soulful mountain feel and that's good enough.
purlscout's review against another edition
5.0
these stories scared the bejesus out of me. very dark, primal, horrific tales of outlaws living hidden in the forsaken rural areas of america's heartland. this gritty collection of tragic and sorrowful tales calls to mind another favorite of mine,sherwood anderson's Winesburg, Ohio. woodrell will make you think twice about road tripping, camping, hiking, or basically leaving your house--while strangely illuminating the shadows which haunt all humanity.
amadswami's review against another edition
4.0
I love Woodrell’s simple yet rich stories and characters. This collection is nothing short of masterful.
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