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sjj169 's review for:
The Bottoms
by Joe R. Lansdale
Set in the 1930's this book is told from the viewpoint of an elderly man looking back at a time in his life. Harry grew up in East Texas along the Sabine River area. An area where more is picked up at the local store than groceries.
Harry and his sister Tom find the body of a black woman who had been mutilated and tied up with barbed wire. His father Jacob is the constable/barber/farmer in the town and he takes the body to the black section to have a black doctor have a look to see what happened.
This unleashes racial tension in the area because the black people don't want trouble stirred up and some of the white people don't care if a black woman is dead. Then more bodies start turning up.
Lansdale brings this to life much better than my piddly review but I wanted to just get the basics across.
Harry was that curious boy who believed and had seen the legendary "Goat Man" following he and his sister in those woods.
His dad Jacob reminded me of Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird" He stood up for what he thought was right no matter what. There is a lynching scene in the book that I had nightmares about after reading this last night. (trigger warning for some of you)
Then there is Grandma: I want to be her when I grow up.
"I love and miss Grandpa, but I'm glad he's dead."
"Don't say that!" Mama said.
"Was he in a lot of pain?" Daddy asked.
"No. No. Thank goodness for that. But he took to singin' gospel songs. He'd just burst out in one from time to time, and he couldn't carry a tune in a syrup bucket with a lid on it. It was miserable. And you couldn't shut him up. I figured it was time for him to go just so I wouldn't have to listen to that. I ever start talkin' to myself, or heaven forbid sing a goddamn gospel song-"
This book as a mystery novel would have scored a 2 star from me, but it's more than that because if you spin me a tale involving a coming of age story and throw in some folk lore and you have me entranced. This is what Joe Lansdale does with this book.
Just a short time before I had been a happy kid with no worries. I didn't even know it was the Depression, let alone there were murderers outside the magazines I read down at the barbershop, and none of the magazines I read had to do with this kind of thing.
Harry and his sister Tom find the body of a black woman who had been mutilated and tied up with barbed wire. His father Jacob is the constable/barber/farmer in the town and he takes the body to the black section to have a black doctor have a look to see what happened.
This unleashes racial tension in the area because the black people don't want trouble stirred up and some of the white people don't care if a black woman is dead. Then more bodies start turning up.
Lansdale brings this to life much better than my piddly review but I wanted to just get the basics across.
Harry was that curious boy who believed and had seen the legendary "Goat Man" following he and his sister in those woods.
His dad Jacob reminded me of Atticus Finch in "To Kill a Mockingbird" He stood up for what he thought was right no matter what. There is a lynching scene in the book that I had nightmares about after reading this last night. (trigger warning for some of you)
Then there is Grandma: I want to be her when I grow up.
"I love and miss Grandpa, but I'm glad he's dead."
"Don't say that!" Mama said.
"Was he in a lot of pain?" Daddy asked.
"No. No. Thank goodness for that. But he took to singin' gospel songs. He'd just burst out in one from time to time, and he couldn't carry a tune in a syrup bucket with a lid on it. It was miserable. And you couldn't shut him up. I figured it was time for him to go just so I wouldn't have to listen to that. I ever start talkin' to myself, or heaven forbid sing a goddamn gospel song-"
This book as a mystery novel would have scored a 2 star from me, but it's more than that because if you spin me a tale involving a coming of age story and throw in some folk lore and you have me entranced. This is what Joe Lansdale does with this book.
Just a short time before I had been a happy kid with no worries. I didn't even know it was the Depression, let alone there were murderers outside the magazines I read down at the barbershop, and none of the magazines I read had to do with this kind of thing.