vol 9 issue 1
Greetings fellow readers, and congratulations on completing week one of this summer’s read-along. (Reminder: if you’re reading this, you should be up to at least the end of Chapter 12 of Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead.)
So, what do we think so far? I’ve received notes from a few readers who are already excited about the novel, and who seem particularly enamoured of the language, and the narrator’s voice. We’ll get to all of that, but first I think we need to talk about an elephant in the room: my woeful misunderstanding of this novel’s indebtedness to Dickens’ David Copperfield (1850).
You may have noticed that there isn’t a single mention of Dickens’ novel on the cover of Kingsolver’s. You have to turn an inside page, and look at a review excerpt from The Guardian, which straight-up calls it a ‘reimagining of David Copperfield’. That was the framing I had internalised at the point of selecting the novel for our little summer project. I had anticipated that this meant both were bildungsromane, narrated by protagonists with the initials DC. Perhaps there would be a few allusions to significant characters and plot beats in David Copperfield?
Not having read that particular Dickens1, I decided to dip into it ahead of starting the read-along. Shortly thereafter, I noticed that both novels have 64 chapters… and then I started receiving notes from one of our number, saying how glad they were that they had also made a start on David Copperfield before beginning Demon Copperhead. I myself was less than a chapter into Kingsolver’s novel before I realised why: the similarities are not glancing; Kingsolver’s project is very obviously to translate Dickens’ novel into a new time, a new location, and hence a new social context, and a new vernacular.
This puts us in an interesting spot. It is now exceedingly clear that analysis of Demon Copperhead will require some level of comparison to / contrast with David Copperfield. However, I am very aware that most participants in this read-along likely have not read the Dickens (and did not sign up to do so!). That being the case, I’m going to endeavour to walk a bit of a tightrope, and keep this interesting for all involved, cognisant of the fact that you’re not going to want to open these emails each Sunday to read someone recapping a 170+ year old book that you didn’t agree to read. Let’s see how we get on with this. If, at any point, you feel like the balance of Copperhead to Copperfield content is out of whack (in either direction: maybe you’re like ‘give me more Dickens please!’) hit reply and tell me so. I’m very open to this kind of feedback.
I am now — unexpectedly — committed to reading both novels in parallel (🙃). And whilst the first week’s experience proves that the action of the chapters doesn’t precisely line up2, for the sake of ease I’m going to apply the same chapter milestones to both books. So, for anyone else who might like to undertake this summer’s read-along on hard mode, here are the page numbers for the Penguin Classics edition of David Copperfield:
Date — (end of) chapter: Kingsolver / Dickens
9 Jul — ch.12: 91 / 190
16 Jul — ch.24: 182 / 372
23 Jul — ch.34: 275 / 505
30 Jul — ch.43: 362 / 640
6 Aug — ch.54: 456 / 790
13 Aug — end: 546 / 882
Ample preamble! Let’s turn to the opening 91 pages of Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead. Here’s one of those reader comments I mentioned above, from KS:
Within a few short sentences, the readers find themselves, transported right into backwoods, redneck, “true America“. It’s magical writing.
In terms of geography, perhaps we should establish for readers who participated in last year’s read-along of Maggie Shipstead’s Great Circle, that Demon’s home in the Appalachians is distinct from the setting of Marian Graves’s youth in Montana. It is distinct also from the Missouri setting of Ozark, though I think one can be forgiven for hearing Langmore accents in one’s head when reading. (The member of our group who made this observation to me is themselves Dutch, and I am English, which I offer as partial explanation to those Americans amongst our number who might balk at an inability to discern differences between Missouri and West Virginia accents.)
Kingsolver herself was born in Kentucky, and is likely very familiar with the vernacular that she’s inhabiting here with Demon’s first-person narration. Indeed, Demon’s voice is one of the immediate joys of the novel. He is charming and funny, whilst simultaneously open and vulnerable about the struggles of his youth. The reader perhaps gets a sense that he is sometimes not being entirely open about the raw feeling of his lived experiences, but that is only to be expected. Rarely does a narrator lay their heart bare so readily.
Kingsolver’s DC is different from Dickens’ in a few ways, but one of the most noticeable in the early going is a relative lack of gullibility. There are multiple instances in David Copperfield of the eponymous narrator relaying some circumstance in which he is either a step behind other characters’ understanding, or else is being openly taken advantage of, and — crucially — doesn’t seem to suspect a thing. Perhaps my favourite thus far has been the sequence (in Chapter V) in which a waiter tricks David out of more-or-less his entire meal, whilst leaving David under the impression that he has been done a big favour3. It’s a masterpiece of comedy, which turns on David’s politeness, but also his credulousness. Kingsolver appropriates this scene, having Demon’s meal eaten in front of him by a hospital orderly. In this version of the scene however, Demon is ‘scared’ and confused, enough so that he writes the event off as potentially fictive:
He looked like a hungry ghost eating a TV dinner, which meant I had to be dreaming. (p55)
A related incident occurs a little earlier in the novels, when the narrators are audience to a conversation about themselves and their mothers. In both cases they are slow on the uptake, and are told by the adults conversing that someone else is the subject of the conversation. In Dickens, the name given is ‘Brooks of Sheffield’, and in Kingsolver: ‘Bear’. There is wordplay in both instances, but the high comic note of the earlier text4 (which again draws on David’s cluelessness) is absent in Demon Copperhead. Kingsolver’s protagonist is sharper, and already shows more agency. Yes, as a child he is still subject to the wills of the adults in his life, and the circumstances that they have brought into being, but the reader does not get the sense that he intends to take it lying down. For one thing, he is prone to instances of pointed wit. Early on, pondering his life now that his mother has invited her new paramour into it, he wonders openly ‘Where is this joy ride taking the three of us in the long run?’ (p17).
Kingsolver is also having some fun with Demon’s vantage point. Whilst the action of his youth is taking place in the 1990s, he is clearly narrating from some future point as an adult. (Consider, for instance, the final word of chapter 9, ‘Deplorables’ (p69): a clear reference in its context to a phrase used by US Presidential candidate Hilary Clinton in 2016.) It will likely be of importance for us to keep in mind how his future vantage point might shape the manner in which Demon tells his story. We have already seen him catch himself on a couple of occasions, such as when he alludes to Emmy’s future:
So that was me promising Emmy that life is to be trusted. I knew better. I should have let her go with her gut: Never get back on the horse, because it’s going to throw you every damn chance it gets. Then maybe she’d have been wise to the shit that came for her later on, and maybe it would have turned out better. Which is me saying too much, for now. Sorry. (p28)
Once we’re tuned into these things, we might see them in other remarks that Demon makes. In the very opening of the novel he seems to be narrating with a sense of being doomed by circumstances:
Kid born to the junkie is a junkie. He’ll grow up to be everything you don’t want to know (p2)
An important part of this is Demon talking about the perceptions of others (to which we will return in a moment) but, as he’s specifically telling his own story, of course Demon knows to what extent these things proved true or untrue in his case. There are indications in the text that his life has been difficult. Again, alluding to his life beyond the bounds of the current action, he says at one point:
At the time, I thought my life couldn’t get any worse. Here’s some advice: Don’t ever think that. (p51)5
But, there are also subtle indications that things might turn out OK for Demon. We know little of his present circumstances as he’s narrating the story for us, but can hang our hopes on turns of phrase such as this, at the novel’s very beginning:
You want to think it’s not over till the last page (p2)
It’s a tricky balance for an author to maintain: writing from the perspective of an adult relaying the story of their childhood. They both (author & narrator) know more than the version of the character does during the action of these scenes. But, for the sake of telling the story, they must (largely) pretend that they do not. One way in which Kingsolver retains a note of childishness in this section of Demon’s narrative, is to have him use slightly incorrect words and phrases: ‘saw fish’ for swordfish; ‘barbwire’ for barbed wire; ‘guarding angel’ for guardian angel. It’s a subtle way of giving Demon’s narration character, and him to the reader.
A quick, semi-related aside: there was one word choice that had me a little puzzled. At the start of chapter 6, as Demon is beginning to relay what he knows about his friend Maggot’s mother’s imprisonment, he gives this description of Maggot’s father, Romeo: ‘He’s dead fit, killer smile, lion-king mane’ (p37). Now, we’ve already established in this newsletter that I’m not 100% dialled into the West Virginian vernacular, but I have my doubts as to whether the phrase ‘dead fit’ is in common usage. My best guess here (and it’s admittedly something of a reach) is that — particularly given that the characterisation also references 1994’s The Lion King — this is Demon, somewhat unpracticed in the art of describing men as attractive, employing a phrase he has picked up from the Spice Girls, and specifically Merseyside’s own Mel C (aka Sporty Spice)! Before you dismiss this entirely, recall that Demon has already made a Spice Girls reference when giving a description of Aunt June, whom he says has ‘short brown hair like Posh of the Spice Girls’ (p24).6
Finally for this week, I wanted to say something about the theme of authenticity, which I’ve noticed recurring early on, and which I think might prove to be important. Demon himself often includes some notion of it when discussing another character. For example, with respect to Stoner (whom he (correctly) loathes pretty much on sight), he calls out the man’s hypocrisy:
I was going to learn self-discipline, like they teach you in the army. Not that Stoner had done military service, mind you. I reckon he saw the movie. (p32)
This way of thinking about people is inextricably linked to another idea mentioned above: that of destiny via circumstance. Just as a junkie’s kid is fated to become a junkie, there are inescapable class strata amongst the children attending Demon’s school, the lowest rung of which ladder:
two sad high school guys of different families that we understood to be marked for life. Bus riders. (p44)
These are questions about who you are and who you are not, and Kingsolver has also introduced the associated question of who gets to decide.
other people made up hillbilly to use on us, for the purpose of being assholes. But they gave us a superpower on accident. Not Mr. Peg’s words, but that’s how I understood it. Saying that word back to people proves they can’t ever be us, or get us, and we are untouchable by their shit. (p69)
I think identity, and the extent to which it is possible for one to transcend one’s circumstances, and to write one’s own story, will become a central theme of the novel.
Before I sign off, here are a couple of contributions from your fellow readers.
SS & CS confirmed that they are a two reader / two paperback household, both starting their copies on the train on day one. Dickens got left at home, however, necessitating an impromptu charity shop purchase of a second copy — that’s commitment!
HS put in their bid for ‘highest altitude reader of the week’, which I’m awarding unless anyone else thinks they can compete:
And AB wrote in to (let’s be honest) show off their bespoke, handwritten schedule bookmark!
My thanks to them — remember, you can hit reply to these newsletters, or write to readalong@zioibi.com with your own comments, questions, criticisms, or photos.
That’s all for week one. As always with these newsletters, I feel as though I’ve covered about 20% of what I wanted to get to, but I’ve learned that I need to pick and choose. Character, thematics, symbolism, language… and any other strand you may wish to tug on — we won’t have space for them all. If you have particular elements you’d like to pay some attention to, drop me a line. Enjoy the week ahead, and I’ll see you back here next Sunday to discuss the novel(s) up to the end of Chapter 24.
✌🏻
— Adam
⏎ Return to the
My reading of Charlie’s works has been impacted by an early traumatic experience with Great Expectations; ask me about it sometime. ↩︎
ie. Kingsolver’s chapter 12 takes us up to something like Dickens’ chapter 10 ↩︎
He even leaves a tip! ↩︎
Here’s a piece by Sally Christie on how it operates. ↩︎
Readers who joined us for Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life in 2016 could have told him this much. ↩︎
This is the astute literary analysis you signed up for. ↩︎