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serenaac's review
4.0
Shannon Burke's Safelight is an ambitious undertaking that examines the decline of New York City and the decline of a paramedic, Frank Verbeckas. Through sparse and compelling language, dialogue, and plot points, Burke expertly immerses the reader into a series of dramatic scenes in which Verbeckas struggles to find himself amidst crime, disease, and the tragic death of his father.
Verbeckas is a paramedic and photographer, but his gift is capturing the reality that surrounds him, which in his eyes is the illness, death, and disease of the patients in crumbling New York City. His brother, Norman, is a top surgeon at a local hospital, and despite his arrogant manner and self-confidence, Norman struggles to break through his bully-like exterior to help his brother.
The short, clipped descriptions of this fight between brothers quickly provides the reader with an inside perspective of how Frank compares himself to his brother and how they relate to one another.
Through a series of disjointed, but related paramedic scenes, the reader gains a sense of Verbeckas' struggles and his downfall seems almost inevitable. However, meeting Emily, a professional fencer and HIV positive woman, becomes the catalyst that spurs Verbeckas' transformation. Burke utilizes his sparse narrative to describe the stillness Frank feels in the presence of Emily.
Being Burke's first novel, the reader probably would not have noticed the recurrence of black flies, but given my recent review of Black Flies and my recent interview of Shannon Burke, I noticed the black flies made it into this first novel as well. I also enjoyed the Burke's descriptions of Frank's photography and how he frames scenes in camera's viewfinder. As an avid photographer, these scenes were well described. Readers will appreciate the stark images and heart that permeates the narrative of Safelight. The evolution of Frank Verbeckas is swift and satisfying.
Verbeckas is a paramedic and photographer, but his gift is capturing the reality that surrounds him, which in his eyes is the illness, death, and disease of the patients in crumbling New York City. His brother, Norman, is a top surgeon at a local hospital, and despite his arrogant manner and self-confidence, Norman struggles to break through his bully-like exterior to help his brother.
The short, clipped descriptions of this fight between brothers quickly provides the reader with an inside perspective of how Frank compares himself to his brother and how they relate to one another.
Through a series of disjointed, but related paramedic scenes, the reader gains a sense of Verbeckas' struggles and his downfall seems almost inevitable. However, meeting Emily, a professional fencer and HIV positive woman, becomes the catalyst that spurs Verbeckas' transformation. Burke utilizes his sparse narrative to describe the stillness Frank feels in the presence of Emily.
Being Burke's first novel, the reader probably would not have noticed the recurrence of black flies, but given my recent review of Black Flies and my recent interview of Shannon Burke, I noticed the black flies made it into this first novel as well. I also enjoyed the Burke's descriptions of Frank's photography and how he frames scenes in camera's viewfinder. As an avid photographer, these scenes were well described. Readers will appreciate the stark images and heart that permeates the narrative of Safelight. The evolution of Frank Verbeckas is swift and satisfying.
left_coast_justin's review
5.0
Back in January, I predicted that Black Flies, by Shannon Burke, would be the best book I would read in 2021. I just finished Safelight by the same author. By God this man can write.
I felt a lot of things at the end of Black Flies, but at the conclusion of this book I only feel sad, and mortal, and sorry for people who end up in bad situations. This book has more heart, in the traditional sense, and didn't leave the hollowed-out ravished feeling that the other book did.
Burke's primary strength is the near-poetic muscularity of his writing -- poetic in the sense that every word is chosen for maximum impact and so the book is not one word longer than it needs to be. In this book, like his previous one, there was an almost electric thrill running through the base of my skull during the first few chapters, like listening to a virtuoso performing music. None of this would matter if he didn't have anything to say, but he has plenty. He does not waste his time on inconsequential themes.
We meet Frank Verbeckis, a pretty profoundly fucked-up twenty-three year old, and follow him for three years. During this time he suffers, he changes, he learns, he perseveres and grows. That's the gist of it. I don't want to give away one single plot point in this book because half the pleasure is learning to come to terms with the plot according to Frank's worldview rather than your own.
That said, I felt at times that Burke was straining to reign himself in and write a conventional story. This impulse was abandoned completely in Black Flies, which I felt was the stronger book as a result. This one took a little longer than necessary to get to the end -- or, more accurately, to get to the beginning of the real story. But he is competing only with himself here -- both books are strong, brilliant and will haunt me for a long, long time.
I felt a lot of things at the end of Black Flies, but at the conclusion of this book I only feel sad, and mortal, and sorry for people who end up in bad situations. This book has more heart, in the traditional sense, and didn't leave the hollowed-out ravished feeling that the other book did.
Burke's primary strength is the near-poetic muscularity of his writing -- poetic in the sense that every word is chosen for maximum impact and so the book is not one word longer than it needs to be. In this book, like his previous one, there was an almost electric thrill running through the base of my skull during the first few chapters, like listening to a virtuoso performing music. None of this would matter if he didn't have anything to say, but he has plenty. He does not waste his time on inconsequential themes.
We meet Frank Verbeckis, a pretty profoundly fucked-up twenty-three year old, and follow him for three years. During this time he suffers, he changes, he learns, he perseveres and grows. That's the gist of it. I don't want to give away one single plot point in this book because half the pleasure is learning to come to terms with the plot according to Frank's worldview rather than your own.
That said, I felt at times that Burke was straining to reign himself in and write a conventional story. This impulse was abandoned completely in Black Flies, which I felt was the stronger book as a result. This one took a little longer than necessary to get to the end -- or, more accurately, to get to the beginning of the real story. But he is competing only with himself here -- both books are strong, brilliant and will haunt me for a long, long time.
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