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juliwi's review
5.0
When this novel was offered to me for review I was immediately intrigued by the summary. 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' by David Atkinson sounded different to most childhood-related novels I have read before and I can say now, after having finished it, that it is a good thing!
This novel has an honest cruelty to it that I found very remarkable. Narratives about childhood often either idealize it or tear it to the ground, both to the effect that the reader ends up with an unrealistic image of childhood. 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' manages to walk the thin line between realism and fiction, where normal events are described in such a way they seem universally applicable to every child and yet intensely personal. The people and events in 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' are taken from real life and every person will recognize instances in the novel that make them think back to their own childhood. There is no misplaced sensibility, no covering up of how cruel children can be, and this allows Atkinson's novel to be an honest portrayal of a child growing up. Although I am a woman, I recognized many of Peter's experiences as my own and the question of what kind of a person Peter will be became a rather personal question.
The reader first meets Peter around the age of four and leaves him eight years later. Throughout that time, not only does Peter change, the novel changes as well. As Peter's friendships and relationships develop, the narrative turns from its specific focus on Peter's thoughts to more description and conversations. As he grows up, things become less clear. Just like Peter, we aren't sure about his true feelings and thoughts, about how what has happened earlier has influenced him. Through Peter's eyes we also meet different characters such as Steven and Joy, who readers will instantly be able to identify as their own childhood friends. Their interaction seems so logical and normal, it is almost absurd how fascinating it still is. In a society where most of us are used to watching people's life unfold in reality shows on TV, it is amazing to see the same thing develop in a novel.
Whereas some may find the novel's take on childhood raw or challenging, I thoroughly enjoyed it. For the first time, I felt an author had dared to simply describe childhood as it is. Our memories are always in retrospect and always clouded by what we know and have become now. By withholding the grown-up Peter from us, Atkinson pulls this comfort away and we are forced to accept that childhood isn't the magical time we might remember, but that it also wasn't as dreadful as we might sometimes think. There were afternoons of boredom and moments of intensity that we were unable to explain at the moment. By not giving us an explanation for some of the occurrences in the novel, Atkinson brings us back to the time when a lot of things didn't make sense and yet others were so perfectly clear and obvious. You will encounter every emotion in this book, happiness, sadness, joy, as you rediscover your own childhood through Peter's story.
It is perhaps surprising that a novel that described something so average as a normal childhood can be both fascinating and funny, but 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' is a very true and thrilling read. I recommend this book with my whole heart to anyone who wants a stimulating, yet enjoyable read.
This novel has an honest cruelty to it that I found very remarkable. Narratives about childhood often either idealize it or tear it to the ground, both to the effect that the reader ends up with an unrealistic image of childhood. 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' manages to walk the thin line between realism and fiction, where normal events are described in such a way they seem universally applicable to every child and yet intensely personal. The people and events in 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' are taken from real life and every person will recognize instances in the novel that make them think back to their own childhood. There is no misplaced sensibility, no covering up of how cruel children can be, and this allows Atkinson's novel to be an honest portrayal of a child growing up. Although I am a woman, I recognized many of Peter's experiences as my own and the question of what kind of a person Peter will be became a rather personal question.
The reader first meets Peter around the age of four and leaves him eight years later. Throughout that time, not only does Peter change, the novel changes as well. As Peter's friendships and relationships develop, the narrative turns from its specific focus on Peter's thoughts to more description and conversations. As he grows up, things become less clear. Just like Peter, we aren't sure about his true feelings and thoughts, about how what has happened earlier has influenced him. Through Peter's eyes we also meet different characters such as Steven and Joy, who readers will instantly be able to identify as their own childhood friends. Their interaction seems so logical and normal, it is almost absurd how fascinating it still is. In a society where most of us are used to watching people's life unfold in reality shows on TV, it is amazing to see the same thing develop in a novel.
Whereas some may find the novel's take on childhood raw or challenging, I thoroughly enjoyed it. For the first time, I felt an author had dared to simply describe childhood as it is. Our memories are always in retrospect and always clouded by what we know and have become now. By withholding the grown-up Peter from us, Atkinson pulls this comfort away and we are forced to accept that childhood isn't the magical time we might remember, but that it also wasn't as dreadful as we might sometimes think. There were afternoons of boredom and moments of intensity that we were unable to explain at the moment. By not giving us an explanation for some of the occurrences in the novel, Atkinson brings us back to the time when a lot of things didn't make sense and yet others were so perfectly clear and obvious. You will encounter every emotion in this book, happiness, sadness, joy, as you rediscover your own childhood through Peter's story.
It is perhaps surprising that a novel that described something so average as a normal childhood can be both fascinating and funny, but 'Bones Buried in the Dirt' is a very true and thrilling read. I recommend this book with my whole heart to anyone who wants a stimulating, yet enjoyable read.
holliereadsbooks's review
4.0
This review was first posted on Music, Books and Tea
Last year, I branched out my reading habits a little, and read two fabulous short-story collections with We Bury the Landscape and Watering Heaven. I enjoyed both a great deal, and that was what made me excited to read Bones Buried in the Dirt.
I don’t think a book has ever left me feeling so empty after I’ve read it. And I do not mean that in a bad way whatsoever. But all of the short stories in this collection are incredibly raw to read, and they all left an incredible effect on me. I tweeted about how this book made me incredibly sad, and it did, but I think that was what I loved about it. Normally books written about childhood are full of happiness and delight, and that wasn’t the case with Bones Buried in the Dirt, which sets it apart from other similar books. Atkinson is such a talented writer, he captured the voice of Peter so well that it was hard to remember I wasn’t reading a book written by a twelve-year-old.
My favourite stories were Druthers Part 1, the titular Bones Buried in the Dirt and Cards. The story that stuck with me the most, however, was The Pipe. That wasn’t the story I expected to read, I wasn’t expecting it to pan out the way that it did and the ending shocked me. I had to pause after finishing The Pipe and take in what I had just read. I am so pleased that the book didn’t end with that story either, but followed The Pipe with Cards, a story that I thought wrapped up this collection really well.
I’ve mentioned in the past about how much I dislike the shortness of short stories, but with Bones Buried in the Dirt, I feel the shortness of these stories was what made them work so well. If they had been longer, I wouldn’t have had that raw, empty feeling whilst reading them. In fact, I would have probably gotten very bored with them, and I wouldn’t have enjoyed the book as much as I did. These short and sharp flashbacks into Peter’s childhood really made me stop and think a lot, which is something that I always appreciate books doing.
Bones Buried in the Dirt isn’t a the book to read if you’re looking for something light-hearted to read without really thinking. This is a book that you’ll want to consume quickly, and then spend a lot of time thinking about. It’s an easy read in the sense that the short stories are quick and punchy, but it’s definitely a book that will resonate with you.
Last year, I branched out my reading habits a little, and read two fabulous short-story collections with We Bury the Landscape and Watering Heaven. I enjoyed both a great deal, and that was what made me excited to read Bones Buried in the Dirt.
I don’t think a book has ever left me feeling so empty after I’ve read it. And I do not mean that in a bad way whatsoever. But all of the short stories in this collection are incredibly raw to read, and they all left an incredible effect on me. I tweeted about how this book made me incredibly sad, and it did, but I think that was what I loved about it. Normally books written about childhood are full of happiness and delight, and that wasn’t the case with Bones Buried in the Dirt, which sets it apart from other similar books. Atkinson is such a talented writer, he captured the voice of Peter so well that it was hard to remember I wasn’t reading a book written by a twelve-year-old.
My favourite stories were Druthers Part 1, the titular Bones Buried in the Dirt and Cards. The story that stuck with me the most, however, was The Pipe. That wasn’t the story I expected to read, I wasn’t expecting it to pan out the way that it did and the ending shocked me. I had to pause after finishing The Pipe and take in what I had just read. I am so pleased that the book didn’t end with that story either, but followed The Pipe with Cards, a story that I thought wrapped up this collection really well.
I’ve mentioned in the past about how much I dislike the shortness of short stories, but with Bones Buried in the Dirt, I feel the shortness of these stories was what made them work so well. If they had been longer, I wouldn’t have had that raw, empty feeling whilst reading them. In fact, I would have probably gotten very bored with them, and I wouldn’t have enjoyed the book as much as I did. These short and sharp flashbacks into Peter’s childhood really made me stop and think a lot, which is something that I always appreciate books doing.
Bones Buried in the Dirt isn’t a the book to read if you’re looking for something light-hearted to read without really thinking. This is a book that you’ll want to consume quickly, and then spend a lot of time thinking about. It’s an easy read in the sense that the short stories are quick and punchy, but it’s definitely a book that will resonate with you.
timshel's review
5.0
I haven't read much in the horror genre, but what little I have read didn't provide me with feelings of terror as one might expect, but feelings of uncertainty and unease. Most readers wouldn't think of David S. Atkinson's Bones Buried in the Dirt as horror, and it's not, but it certainly left me with these same feelings. Given its subject of childhood, this in itself is unsettling.
I realize this review is about Atkinson's novel, but I'm going to make it about me for the moment. You see, I can't speak for everyone else and what their childhood was like, but I can speak for mine. At least what I remember of it. And here's what I remember: I remember an imagination carrying me through fields and trees, branches that served as swords and dandelion blooms that were medicine; I remember special trips to the store with my mom, family vacations to the theme park, and cheese and crackers waiting for me when I got home; I recall board games and slide shows, parks and family movies. Is this a fair portrayal of my childhood? Absolutely not. It ignores all the stuff I've blocked out. All the insecurities and embarrassments that blanketed much of my adolescence. I don't know if this is everyone's childhood experience, but I have heard the same sentiment from others. Some things are best left buried beneath the fluff of bedtime stories and good morning hugs.
But like the bones in Atkinson's title story, some things cannot remain buried forever. Atkinson hasn't picked out a few bones from childhood memory, he's excavated the whole bloody cemetery. He's laid them out, all those childhood idiosyncrasies that only an astute observer or person ready to face their past could see. Yes, those fluffy memories are there, floating around the atmosphere of Atkinson's world where imagination resides, but beneath them is the world many of Bones...'s readers would call “the truth”—that is, the way an adult would perceive it.
Bones Buried in the Dirt is told entirely in the voice of young Peter. This is a bold move for Atkinson, but it is the only right one for telling this story. That said, it's not an easy choice. Peter's voice is jarring, especially at first. And because we see the world only through Peter's eyes, it's not possible to see the bigger world that rests somewhere outside of the street he lives on. When the world is filtered through the eyes of a child, you can be guaranteed that all your questions will not be answered, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the experience. And Atkinson provides an experience that is eerily familiar, yet unlike anything you've read before.
If you're like me and you've buried much of your childhood, Bones Buried in the Dirt will force you to confront some of your greatest fears. You may shake your head, amazed that you were ever so impressionistic, but you'll probably also shake in fear when Peter gets called to the principal's office. This is David's story. And it's Peter's story. But it's also mine. Bones... brings to mind that oft-quoted biblical passage, “When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.” What this passage neglects to mention is that while those childish things have been “put away” they are still a part of us. “Put away”—it sounds so easy, doesn't it? Like childhood is just tucked gingerly into a box and buried. No matter how deep we bury those insecurities though, there is always the threat they will resurface and haunt us. Thumbs up David Atkinson for trumping the Bible, forcing me to face my past, and fess up to my mistakes. “Joy,” I'm sorry.
I realize this review is about Atkinson's novel, but I'm going to make it about me for the moment. You see, I can't speak for everyone else and what their childhood was like, but I can speak for mine. At least what I remember of it. And here's what I remember: I remember an imagination carrying me through fields and trees, branches that served as swords and dandelion blooms that were medicine; I remember special trips to the store with my mom, family vacations to the theme park, and cheese and crackers waiting for me when I got home; I recall board games and slide shows, parks and family movies. Is this a fair portrayal of my childhood? Absolutely not. It ignores all the stuff I've blocked out. All the insecurities and embarrassments that blanketed much of my adolescence. I don't know if this is everyone's childhood experience, but I have heard the same sentiment from others. Some things are best left buried beneath the fluff of bedtime stories and good morning hugs.
But like the bones in Atkinson's title story, some things cannot remain buried forever. Atkinson hasn't picked out a few bones from childhood memory, he's excavated the whole bloody cemetery. He's laid them out, all those childhood idiosyncrasies that only an astute observer or person ready to face their past could see. Yes, those fluffy memories are there, floating around the atmosphere of Atkinson's world where imagination resides, but beneath them is the world many of Bones...'s readers would call “the truth”—that is, the way an adult would perceive it.
Bones Buried in the Dirt is told entirely in the voice of young Peter. This is a bold move for Atkinson, but it is the only right one for telling this story. That said, it's not an easy choice. Peter's voice is jarring, especially at first. And because we see the world only through Peter's eyes, it's not possible to see the bigger world that rests somewhere outside of the street he lives on. When the world is filtered through the eyes of a child, you can be guaranteed that all your questions will not be answered, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the experience. And Atkinson provides an experience that is eerily familiar, yet unlike anything you've read before.
If you're like me and you've buried much of your childhood, Bones Buried in the Dirt will force you to confront some of your greatest fears. You may shake your head, amazed that you were ever so impressionistic, but you'll probably also shake in fear when Peter gets called to the principal's office. This is David's story. And it's Peter's story. But it's also mine. Bones... brings to mind that oft-quoted biblical passage, “When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things.” What this passage neglects to mention is that while those childish things have been “put away” they are still a part of us. “Put away”—it sounds so easy, doesn't it? Like childhood is just tucked gingerly into a box and buried. No matter how deep we bury those insecurities though, there is always the threat they will resurface and haunt us. Thumbs up David Atkinson for trumping the Bible, forcing me to face my past, and fess up to my mistakes. “Joy,” I'm sorry.
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