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3.67 AVERAGE
3.67 AVERAGE
Many books are being narrated by several narrators these days. Even Mercy Louis does. I learned a lot about religion and its role in the American South. Mercy Louis is a basket ball star in Port Sabine, Texas. She lives with her grandma. In a hot summer big lies are uncovered and the girls of Port Sabine are getting possessed by the evil or are they? Keija Parssinen is a good writer, hope she will give us more.
In “The Unravelling of Mercy Louis”, author Keija Parssinen weaves such disparate elements as girls’ high school basketball, small-town misogyny, religious fundamentalism, political corruption and first love into a gripping, suspenseful, allegorical retelling of the story of the Salem witch trials. While Parssinen’s tale takes a while to build steam, and can seem at times overstuffed in its juggling of thematic elements, once the book takes off, it becomes a page-turning, yet deeply-felt coming-of-age novel that just happens to also be a successful mystery.
“Unravelling” has many influences and echoes, from Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” to Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” to H.G. Bissinger’s “Friday Night Lights” to Stephen King’s “Carrie” (even to his wife Tabitha’s novel “One on One”). It is the story of the eponymous high school basketball star, Mercy Louis, a 17-year old girl preparing to enter her senior year of high school in a backward Texas town in the year 1999, where girls are prized for their virginity and pure athletic prowess (and failing in either can lead to suspicion, ostracization and violence). Mercy’s mother abandoned her at birth, so she is being raised by her religious fanatic grandmother, Maw Maw (a character whose irredeemable nature and ignorant bullying at times threatens to capsize the narrative), who mistrusts Mercy’s love of basketball and is looking for any opportunity to ban her granddaughter from playing the game. Maw Maw’s strict upbringing of Mercy has so far met with little resistance from the girl, but as Mercy enters the summer before her senior year, a falling out with her best friend and teammate, Annie, and the budding romantic interest of a young man from her neighborhood threaten to unbalance the fragile equilibrium of her young life. Add to that the town hysteria and witch hunt over the discovery of an aborted baby found in a dumpster behind a convenience store, a mysterious illness that begins to afflict Mercy and the other girls at the school, and the reverberations of a long-ago explosion at the refinery that drove the town’s economy, and you have the makings of a compelling novel.
While the flyleaf copy for the book emphasizes its “psychological suspense”, Parssinen’s uniformly fine writing attempts to ground her story in the mundane details of daily life in a small town, where the local Sonic fast-food drive-in is the hub of teen social life, and a fear of budding female sexual awakening among the townsfolk leads to the execrable Purity Balls. Where ignorance and bigotry clothe themselves in religion and civic boosterism, the better to disguise their craven and vicious natures. And where violence against women isn’t just perpetrated by men, and takes psychic as well as physical forms. Yet, the author knows well the old Camus quote, “Happiness, too, is inevitable”, and makes sure that joy and hope aren’t completely suffocated by the realities of life in Port Sabine, Texas. For while the sins of the fathers (and mothers) threaten to overwhelm and defeat the newest generation of girls, those same potential victims are rejecting the strictures of their community and banding together to embrace a better way; the “unravelling” of the title may just be the first step towards weaving a newer, triumphant tapestry.
“Unravelling” has many influences and echoes, from Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird” to Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible” to H.G. Bissinger’s “Friday Night Lights” to Stephen King’s “Carrie” (even to his wife Tabitha’s novel “One on One”). It is the story of the eponymous high school basketball star, Mercy Louis, a 17-year old girl preparing to enter her senior year of high school in a backward Texas town in the year 1999, where girls are prized for their virginity and pure athletic prowess (and failing in either can lead to suspicion, ostracization and violence). Mercy’s mother abandoned her at birth, so she is being raised by her religious fanatic grandmother, Maw Maw (a character whose irredeemable nature and ignorant bullying at times threatens to capsize the narrative), who mistrusts Mercy’s love of basketball and is looking for any opportunity to ban her granddaughter from playing the game. Maw Maw’s strict upbringing of Mercy has so far met with little resistance from the girl, but as Mercy enters the summer before her senior year, a falling out with her best friend and teammate, Annie, and the budding romantic interest of a young man from her neighborhood threaten to unbalance the fragile equilibrium of her young life. Add to that the town hysteria and witch hunt over the discovery of an aborted baby found in a dumpster behind a convenience store, a mysterious illness that begins to afflict Mercy and the other girls at the school, and the reverberations of a long-ago explosion at the refinery that drove the town’s economy, and you have the makings of a compelling novel.
While the flyleaf copy for the book emphasizes its “psychological suspense”, Parssinen’s uniformly fine writing attempts to ground her story in the mundane details of daily life in a small town, where the local Sonic fast-food drive-in is the hub of teen social life, and a fear of budding female sexual awakening among the townsfolk leads to the execrable Purity Balls. Where ignorance and bigotry clothe themselves in religion and civic boosterism, the better to disguise their craven and vicious natures. And where violence against women isn’t just perpetrated by men, and takes psychic as well as physical forms. Yet, the author knows well the old Camus quote, “Happiness, too, is inevitable”, and makes sure that joy and hope aren’t completely suffocated by the realities of life in Port Sabine, Texas. For while the sins of the fathers (and mothers) threaten to overwhelm and defeat the newest generation of girls, those same potential victims are rejecting the strictures of their community and banding together to embrace a better way; the “unravelling” of the title may just be the first step towards weaving a newer, triumphant tapestry.
I couldn't put this down. Really obviously an Alex Award Winner.
This is the third book I've read inspired by the Le Roy, New York events -- the other two being [b:Conversion|18667792|Conversion|Katherine Howe|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1381742575l/18667792._SY75_.jpg|26493455] by Katherine Howe (which is also loosely a re-telling of [b:The Crucible|17250|The Crucible|Arthur Miller|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1547467608l/17250._SX50_.jpg|1426723]) and [b:The Fever|18656036|The Fever|Megan Abbott|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1381359885l/18656036._SY75_.jpg|26470722] by Megan Abbott. Since their plots are so generally similar, I'll compare them for the sake of discussion.
Parssinen's book is more complex than Howe's, but it lacks the physical realness of Abbott's book. Mercy is an interesting heroine, on the surface, but as the book unravels, there remains a lot left to be desired about her. It's difficult to put into words, but something always felt "off" about her character; she was always just submissive/judgmental/religious/rebellious/etc as she needed to be depending on the situation. But instead of it coming across as her being manipulative (which I doubt was the intention), it comes across as mediocre writing. I never really felt like I knew who Mercy was or what she wasn't.
I know we're supposed to hate Mercy's grandmother, especially for the horrible things she did, but the best I could work up was some lukewarm disinterest. The woman did/does horrible things, but it doesn't seem to have an emotional disconnect. I mean, I've read Carrie, I've read other fiction with terrible parents, and Mercy's grandmother just doesn't measure up. She's a cardboard villain -- but then, really, mostly everyone in this book is a cardboard cutout.
Which is sad, because Parssinen shows bits and pieces of brilliance throughout, but it's never long-lived and, more than anything, it highlights the failings in this book. And honestly, the "mysterious illness" does more to hurt the book than help it; it feels almost like it was put in as an afterthought more than anything else. Whereas Howe and Abbott's books make the illness the central figure of their stories, here Parssinen treats it like a C-list character. It comes and goes without much fanfare, but that seems fairly par for the course with the rest of this book.
More than anything, I would have really, really, REALLY LOVED if Parssinen had expanded upon Illa's sexuality more. I actually thought that was the most interesting thing about the story; somewhat suppressed sexuality in a deeply religious time at the turn of the 21st century. Especially since Illa's attraction was towards basically the "pinnacle" of extreme religious conservatism in the town. But, like everything else, it's fact to be noted and essentially tossed aside. Illa never has a real moment of contemplation about her feelings or her sexuality.
But it's just really another wasted part of the story.
Parssinen's book is more complex than Howe's, but it lacks the physical realness of Abbott's book. Mercy is an interesting heroine, on the surface, but as the book unravels, there remains a lot left to be desired about her. It's difficult to put into words, but something always felt "off" about her character; she was always just submissive/judgmental/religious/rebellious/etc as she needed to be depending on the situation. But instead of it coming across as her being manipulative (which I doubt was the intention), it comes across as mediocre writing. I never really felt like I knew who Mercy was or what she wasn't.
I know we're supposed to hate Mercy's grandmother, especially for the horrible things she did, but the best I could work up was some lukewarm disinterest. The woman did/does horrible things, but it doesn't seem to have an emotional disconnect. I mean, I've read Carrie, I've read other fiction with terrible parents, and Mercy's grandmother just doesn't measure up. She's a cardboard villain -- but then, really, mostly everyone in this book is a cardboard cutout.
Which is sad, because Parssinen shows bits and pieces of brilliance throughout, but it's never long-lived and, more than anything, it highlights the failings in this book. And honestly, the "mysterious illness" does more to hurt the book than help it; it feels almost like it was put in as an afterthought more than anything else. Whereas Howe and Abbott's books make the illness the central figure of their stories, here Parssinen treats it like a C-list character. It comes and goes without much fanfare, but that seems fairly par for the course with the rest of this book.
More than anything, I would have really, really, REALLY LOVED if Parssinen had expanded upon Illa's sexuality more. I actually thought that was the most interesting thing about the story; somewhat suppressed sexuality in a deeply religious time at the turn of the 21st century. Especially since Illa's attraction was towards basically the "pinnacle" of extreme religious conservatism in the town. But, like everything else, it's fact to be noted and essentially tossed aside. Illa never has a real moment of contemplation about her feelings or her sexuality.
But it's just really another wasted part of the story.
this book was what i wanted megan abbott's 'the fever' to be -- haunting and lyrical and building slowly but surely to an unsettling reveal. without being predictable, the story told itself exactly as i imagined.