Barbara Kingsolver knows The South and it shows. Every paragraph, every sentence, every word is imbued with authentic language, syntax, and feeling. And Demon’s distinctive voice is loaded with colloquialisms, customs, and folk knowledge. I’m reminded of her Poisonwood Bible, in which each unique character’s voice was clear within a few words. Simply masterful.
Demon Copperhead is an homage to Dickens that is set in rural Virginia in the 1990s. In it, Kingsolver goes deep into the culture of poverty and addiction. But, let me tell you, it’s bleak. How could it not be? The theme could easily be this…
“Live long enough, and all things you ever loved can turn around to scorch you blind. The wonder is that you could start life with nothing, end with nothing, and lose so much in between.”
Demon Copperhead
Here’s a taste of Kingsolver’s words.
The South
“All down the years, words have been flung like pieces of shit, only to get stuck on a truck bumper with up-yours pride. Rednecks, moonshiners, ridge runners, hicks. Deplorables.”
“Our ancestors here had to save their hides from Confederate gangs that rounded them up and drove them shackled to the lines, to shoot Yanks and save somebody else’s fat-ass plantations.”
“There’s north and there’s south, and then there is Lee County, world capital of the lose-lose situation.”
“Certain pitiful souls around here see whiteness as their last asset that hasn’t been totaled or repossessed.”
“This is what I would say if I could, to all smart people of the world with their dumb hillbilly jokes: We are right here in the stall. We can actually hear you.”
“These people and vegetarians and so forth that are all about being fair to the races and the gays, I am down with that. I agree. But would it cross any mind to be fair to us? No, it would not. How do I know? TV. The comedy channel is so funny it can make you want to go unlock the gun cabinet and kill yourself. Do they really think that along with being brainless and having sex with animals, we don’t even have cable?”
Church
“I liked looking at the singing women, and the rest you could sleep through. Plus that thing of being loved automatically, Jesus on your side. Not a faucet turned on or off, like with people.”
“Sunday school stories are just another type of superhero comic. Counting on Jesus to save the day is no more real than sending up the Batman signal.”
Addiction
“Mom had promised to stay clean as long as I was a good enough son to make it worth her while. Nobody was hiding that from me, I knew shit. I was eleven now.”
“What’s an oxy, I’d asked. That November it was still a shiny new thing. OxyContin, God’s gift for the laid-off deep-hole man with his back and neck bones grinding like bags of gravel. For the bent-over lady pulling double shifts at Dollar General with her shot knees and ADHD grandkids to raise by herself. For every football player with some of this or that torn up, and the whole world riding on his getting back in the game. This was our deliverance. The tree was shaken and yes, we did eat of the apple.”
Poverty
“I thought all kids got a mammaw, along with a caseworker and free school lunch and the canned beanie-weenies they gave you in a bag to take home for weekends. Like, assigned.”
“…the Charles Dickens one, seriously old guy, dead and a foreigner, but Christ Jesus did he get the picture on kids and orphans getting screwed over and nobody giving a rat’s ass. You’d think he was from around here.
The writing is glorious, as are the insights. And, just like Demon, you may want to give up along the way. But hang on. It’s worth it. Recommend.
Lorie Smith Schaefer 