Reviews

American Copper by Shann Ray

jennyshank's review against another edition

Go to review page

5.0

http://www.dallasnews.com/lifestyles/books/20151224-fiction-american-copper-by-shann-ray.ece

Published: 24 December 2015 04:03 PM, Dallas Morning News

The history of white people’s settlement of the West is rife with massacres of native people, mistreatment of Chinese laborers, women trapped into working as prostitutes in gritty frontier outposts, and the Copper Kings’ periodic crushing of miners’ attempts to organize.

Stories of the era continue to appeal in part because these stark conflicts arise against a landscape of incredible openness and beauty: “Here’s a fight over a place worth fighting for” seems to be a central theme of Western stories.

In Shann Ray’s gorgeous, sensitive debut novel, a ruthless Montana man who amasses a fortune in the copper industry finds that he cannot control his own children, no matter how forcefully he tries. American Copper merges the brutality and the beauty of the West into a kind of lush hymn, filled with stark events but also a strand of hope for a better way, forged through familial love.

Ray begins his lyrical novel in 1907 by introducing a princess locked away in a castle: Evelynne Lowry, the lovely daughter of Josef Lowry, “who had more money than the Montana State Treasury.” Ray explains his business simply: “His men dug copper from the ground. He sent it by train to the centers of industry.”

Josef’s wife died when Evelynne was young, leaving him with a son and daughter whom he loves but is determined to bend to his will. Josef intends his children to stay with him and serve his business. In a characteristic, cruel way, he breaks the engagement of his son, Tomás, to a woman he met after his return from service in World War I. When Josef learns the woman’s father is a butcher in St. Louis, he opens a competing butcher shop across the street and bullies him out of business.

Both children know that their father’s outbursts can also turn deadly.

Spirited, athletic, horse-besotted Evelynne is the only person in Josef’s orbit who can stand up to him. When her father tells her, “You must never marry. I need you,” it doesn’t seem likely that she’ll heed him until a terrible loss prompts her retreat from the world.

After introducing the Lowry family, Ray drops back in time to 1864 and the perspective of Black Kettle, the Cheyenne chief at the helm when Colorado Territory militia broke a treaty and attacked a peaceful settlement of Cheyenne and Arapaho in an incident that has become known as the Sand Creek Massacre.

Ray details this brutality with minimalist restraint. Simple facts such as this one about the bloodthirsty leader of the militia make their point without any extraneous commentary: “[John] Chivington, nicknamed the Fighting Parson, was presiding elder of Denver’s First Methodist Episcopal Church.”

While Evelynne is “tutored, nannied, dressed in fine clothes, and set alone among the wilderness,” two young men who will cross paths with her have very different upbringings in Montana. Zion, an unusually tall, strong young man, raised in a one-room cabin, becomes a steer wrestler in rodeos across Montana. William Black Kettle, a descendant of the Cheyenne chief, is educated by nuns who “indoctrinated him into the subtle, if profound idea that beauty would save the world.”

Beloved by his tribe, the charismatic, intelligent William is the closest thing they have to a prince. William must leave his tribe to make a living as a rodeo calf roper, occasionally meeting Zion, who treats him much better than most whites he encounters.

Through horses and rodeo, the stories of the two men connect with that of Evelynne just when she is contemplating how to make a getaway from her father’s figurative tower.

Will the princess manage to find a prince in a West where racism is lifeblood and violence is perpetual? That is the question. Ray has a knack for harnessing the elemental, fashioning a story from the interplay of competing forces: violence and gentleness, hate and love, ugliness and beauty, masculine and feminine. Prepare to be enchanted by American Copper, a novel that is at once brutally realistic and dreamlike.

Jenny Shank’s first novel, “The Ringer,” won the High Plains Book Award.

amysbrittain's review against another edition

Go to review page

4.0

3.75 stars for me. The voice in the first section felt stilted (purposely old-fashioned while recounting events from an earlier time, possibly?). Later, I felt at times like I was reading poetry, and the descriptions of the Montana settings were soft and lovely. The characters' intertwined stories included vicious cruelty toward Indians in the late 1800s/early 1900s, possessive and controlling attitudes toward women, and other painful-to-read elements, but also gentle adoration, meditations on nature, and richly wrought internal struggles and growth.

rrowrow's review against another edition

Go to review page

5.0


In large part because I am embarrassed about how self-important I became after my first book was published, I pay close attention to my fellow writers, and am always amused at how many newly published authors go through a phase where they believe that everything that comes out of their mouth is absolutely brilliant. So it’s always refreshing when someone like Shann Ray comes along, a guy who displays a wonderful sense of perspective. This is probably in large part because Shann, whose real name is Shann Ferch, has already enjoyed the limelight as a star basketball player in high school and college. So getting this kind of attention is nothing new to him.
Ray’s writing very much reflects the same quiet, patient perspective that he has in real life, which makes him someone that’s easy to root for. I have known many writers that I didn’t admire who wrote books I admired a great deal. And the opposite is also true. But it’s a rare combination when the two come together.
American Copper is a beautiful book. It reminds me in structure and in tone of Michael Ondaatje’s English Patient, which makes sense considering both writers are excellent poets. Ray builds his story slowly, through images and characters created at his own pace, with one striking paragraph of description after another. Each little gem of detail contributes in some significant way to the overall shape of this thing, this sculpture of words.
The best way to read this novel is so simply surrender to the flow, with the knowledge that eventually, all of these images are going to come together. Ray uses multiple points of view, moving from a Native American team roper, Black Kettle, to a wealthy young copper heiress, Evelynne Lowry, to a monosyllabic horse trainer and fighter, a huge man named Zion, with ease and grace, and eventually these three lives become intertwined in ways that are unexpected but masterfully conveyed.
But perhaps the best part of this novel is the fact that Ray tells a simple story that somehow manages to address many of the most important issues of the American West, a subject that he is passionate about. American Copper touches on racism, the damaging effects of self-sufficiency, and the complicated marriage between commerce and the environment in a way that doesn’t draw attention to itself. It ends up being, surprisingly, a love story.
With American Copper, Shann Ray, whose story collection American Masculine also deftly addressed many of these same issues, has established himself as an important voice in the literature of the American West.

snhawkins's review against another edition

Go to review page

2.0

4 stars for how well the book was written. The story was odd. Some things were too rushed and barely spoke upon and others where too drawn out. And the character and the tying in the story of Zion into the rest of the book left me feeling puzzled as to why he was even in the story and completely dissatisfied.

The writing was superb, the story was eh.

quintusmarcus's review

Go to review page

5.0

Another truly marvelous book from Shann Ray. His language is so beautiful and so moving that the harsh reality of the American West in the early twentieth century is softened. Shann's sensitivity to nature and to color are always vibrantly on display--reading Shann's work is utterly immersive.

A few short words can scarcely do justice to this excellent novel--utterly unique and highly recommended!
More...