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A review by ghostboyreads
The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
"Unless he had whiskey running through his veins, Willard came to the clearing every morning and evening to talk to God. Arvin didn't know which was worse, the drinking or the praying. As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time."
Updated review as of my re-read (Feb 8-11 2024) loved it even more than the first time.
The Devil All the Time is a cruel, oppressive and seedy novel that delights in just how disgustingly messed up it really is. It's one of those books that burrows right through your body, till it reaches your core, and there, it sits, festering, rotting you from the inside out while it infects your blood. This right here is a heavily violent, gruesome and vicious novel - However, it's so much more than gratuitous savagery to shock and disturb. This is a novel with heart, a story with soul. Above everything, this is a tale about the crushing frustration of discovering one's own limitations. It's about the fetid stench of desperation that clings to the lives of these unfortunate characters. Ultimately, it's about the futility of it all.
It is utterly, totally devoid of all hope. Yet, somehow, there manages to be such a profound and wonderful beauty to this enigma of a novel, something so entirely grotesque and difficult to describe. The Devil All the Time captures so perfectly a very specific feeling. And, while it's not quite clear what that feeling even is, it's there... With every turn of the page, and it's brutally lonely. The backbone of this entire novel is a bunch of unsavory, awful, horrible characters who constantly make insanely bad life choices. Despite all this, despite the dismal fog that envelops every last word, it's just so resoundingly gorgeous.
Updated review as of my re-read (Feb 8-11 2024) loved it even more than the first time.
The Devil All the Time is a cruel, oppressive and seedy novel that delights in just how disgustingly messed up it really is. It's one of those books that burrows right through your body, till it reaches your core, and there, it sits, festering, rotting you from the inside out while it infects your blood. This right here is a heavily violent, gruesome and vicious novel - However, it's so much more than gratuitous savagery to shock and disturb. This is a novel with heart, a story with soul. Above everything, this is a tale about the crushing frustration of discovering one's own limitations. It's about the fetid stench of desperation that clings to the lives of these unfortunate characters. Ultimately, it's about the futility of it all.
It is utterly, totally devoid of all hope. Yet, somehow, there manages to be such a profound and wonderful beauty to this enigma of a novel, something so entirely grotesque and difficult to describe. The Devil All the Time captures so perfectly a very specific feeling. And, while it's not quite clear what that feeling even is, it's there... With every turn of the page, and it's brutally lonely. The backbone of this entire novel is a bunch of unsavory, awful, horrible characters who constantly make insanely bad life choices. Despite all this, despite the dismal fog that envelops every last word, it's just so resoundingly gorgeous.
"One morning while he was out, a lame and starving mutt with soft white fur ventured up to the porch timidly with its tale between its legs. Arvin fed it some scraps from the refrigerator, had already named it Jack by the time his father got home. Without a word, Willard walked into the house and came back out with his rifle. He shoved Arvin away from the dog, then shot it between the eyes while the boy begged him not to do it. He dragged it into the woods and nailed it to one of the crosses. Arvin stopped speaking to him after that. He listened to the moans of his mother while Willard drove around looking for more sacrifices. "
There is, surprisingly, an almost peaceful sense to this novel, the small town heartbreak and gritty, back-roads violence is delivered with an unnerving ease, one can almost find comfort in the chaos. Donald Ray Pollock is a serious author. He is, the kind of author that so many aspire to be - Someone who can craft a strikingly raw and authentic narrative while sacrificing nothing. Pollock has given life to an explosive yet solemn story that's doused in gasoline, room temperature beer, and spent shell casings, then it's all set on fire and scattered to the wind. He'll lead you to rock bottom, you'll gaze upon your soul stripped bare into a bloody mass of pulverized viscera.
If there ever was a novel so achingly sad it compelled readers to drink some bleach, it would be this one. It's a novel to leave you so desolate and empty, you'll never be the same. This book is a magical thing, one that should never, ever be passed up.
"To his way of thinking, it was the one true religion, the thing he'd been searching for all his life. Only in the presence of death could he feel the presence of something like God."