A review by jeremyhornik
Gone South by Robert R. McCammon

2.0

I was super excited by this book. I read about two thirds of it on a plane ride, and it seemed like the perfect piece of pulp: violent, doomed, grotesque, hilarious. The characters had each grown up around their pain into unique and peculiar Southern novel types (though, I will note: it is not a Southern novel because there is no dead mule.) The prose was sharp and direct. And the narrative was headlong, picaresque, and tragic.

Then I misplaced the book. Lost it over the weekend. Found it and finished it Monday.

And the last third ruined it. What happened? All the characters found meaning and peace. And a shootout with some central casting thugs. Woddever. Not my cup of tea.

(Also, warning: most black characters are salt-of-the-earth types and consequently, dull.)

So four stars for the first two thirds, one star for the last. Two stars. Maybe you’ll like it better.