vol 9 issue 3
Readers, I hope you all had an enjoyable week. I caught up with the Dickens! Well… that is to say, I caught up with where I should have been in the Dickens last week. Which is another way of saying I’m still a week behind. But no matter. I’m right up to date with the Kingsolver, and that’s what we’re here to talk about after all.
So, I received some notes from readers pertaining to identity — the theme we discussed last week (and on which we’re going to do a little more digging today). KS had this to say:
[identity] is such a big part of our youth and, while probably a universal journey, it’s such an individual trial at the same time. […] As this week’s reading went on, though, things got just worse for our boy as he starts to realize what others think of him. I remember that point in my own schooling…I was also probably about ten. Devastating!!! To find out not everyone loves you like your parents do. But now imagine not even having those parents.
Demon’s lack of lasting attachment is something that informs a lot of his character, I think. Along with his being shuffled continuously from one temporary situation to the next, it contributes to his sense of a lack of belonging. In these respects, he feels rootless; his life lacks any firm foundation upon which to build, and thus — as we’ve observed — he finds it difficult to imagine a future for himself. That’s the chronic version (and, as I’ll argue below, it’s also at play more widely in his environment); SvR had this to say about a more acute feeling of precarity:
his struggle to belong and when he does seem to belong somewhere (or to someone), it’s clear to him that this current happiness can’t be meant for him, that disaster will strike again
I think this is true. Demon doesn’t read as a pessimist per se, but he has a healthy sense of suspicion that anything good can last. As we’ve seen during this week’s reading, he also admonishes himself for inattentiveness when times were good:
I have bad days galore to look back on, the shamings and hard fists, and I’ll tell you what. It’s the golden times that kill me. I had two. And like a son of a bitch, I missed them both. (p254)
I don’t know that he experiences this as a dread of the future, necessarily. It feels more likely that he simply holds few expectations (positive or negative) and is resigned to having his fate decided for him. Looking about him, he sees modelled various ways of living. But, he also experiences the gravitational force of his circumstances, and his background. This is what I’d like to talk about a little in this issue: the extent to which identity and possibility are functions of opportunity, not just for Demon, but for many of those who surround him.
First, however — if you’ll permit me — I’d like to make a comparison between Kingsolver’s novel, and Dickens’. David Copperfield was written, and originally published, in serialised form: three or four chapters per month between May 1849, and its culmination in November 1850 (with a blockbuster, seven-chapter finale!). [My goodness, I wish I had a footnote here, but these squared parentheses will have to do. I just wanted to mention that this was also how Stephen King originally published The Green Mile: monthly ~100pp paperbacks between March — August 1996. Reading it that way absolutely made 15-year-old Adam’s spring & summer that year, and I’ve never forgotten how it felt to anticipate the next piece of a story so eagerly!] As I’ve continued reading the Dickens, I fancy that I’ve been able to detect some effects of this publication scheme on the text itself. Perhaps it is true that all bildungsromane are, to a greater or lesser extent, episodic in nature. But, it has begun to feel a little as though the circuitous path of young David’s life is owed as much to the necessity of action and intrigue within each three-chapter instalment, as it is to considerations of plot or character development. That isn’t to say that Dickens is wasting time — each of these episodes has unfailingly been replete with memorable characters, and entirely entertaining to read — but, I have started to question whether all of them will ultimately be proven meaningful in the holistic sense of the novel. I’m ignorant of the particular arrangement Dickens had with his editor(s) and publisher(s) in 1849-50, but my suspicion is that he had contracted for nineteen instalments (each with a cover price of one shilling), and that the narrative would have taken a different shape if it had always been intended as only a single volume.
I mentioned last week that the two novels had desynchronised in terms of plot, and — particularly given that we are now a little over half way through the Kingsolver, and I am a mere 43.1% of the way through the Dickens, with more incident behind me — I’m starting to see the ways in which Kingsolver has changed the architecture. There has been a consolidation of some characters (and, necessarily, omission of others), and there has also been some reduction of plot — which word I employ in the sense usually attributed to it in reference to cooking. It is as though Kingsolver has sought to simmer down Dickens’ text: to reduce its volume, and retain its flavour. That said, if I am to be entirely too critical of Demon Copperhead, I think there have been a couple of instances in which artefacts of David Copperfield were entirely too tempting for Kingsolver to pass up completely, and not always to the benefit of the novel. Usually this manifests in terms of too little time being spent on characters whom merit greater attention. We were introduced to one such this week (Mr. Dick) who, it felt to me, was in and out of Kingsolver’s narrative within a few paragraphs. Indeed, the whole episode of Demon’s staying with Miss. Woodall felt truncated. It lasts roughly a dozen pages (pp194 — 208), before Demon — having travelled, eventfully, farther than he has ever been before, is returned to where he started within a matter of a few sentences. Kingsolver seems aware of it:
After all those days and nights that about had killed me getting here, the trip home wouldn’t take but an hour and a half. Crazy. That’s Lee County for you. It pulls you back hard. (p209)
I’m not sure that I entirely buy this explanation, even if it does support the argument about the gravity of circumstance (which I promise I’m getting to!). It read to me like an admission from the author: ‘sorry that this was so brief; I need to get on with my plot, but I couldn’t bare to omit Miss Woodall, Jane Ellen, and Mr Dick entirely (and I may return to them later)’. The reason I mention any of this at all, is that I’m curious how the plot has felt to others of you. Has it felt disjointedly episodic or has it flowed smoothly? Have particular beats felt as though they pass too quickly, or are lingered on too long? Are there characters with whom we’ve spent too much, or too little time in your estimation? Perhaps you’d hit reply and let me know — I’m particularly (but by no means exclusively) interested in the views of those who haven’t read the Dickens, and thus aren’t at the mercy of drawing comparisons.
OK, as mentioned above, I’d like to return to the idea of identity and related themes, because I think it took an interesting turn this week. It felt to me as though Kingsolver pulled the camera back a little, particularly towards the end of this section, and situated Demon’s experiences more firmly in a particular time and place.
Speaking of which, I very much want to pass on something that was sent to me by CS: a showcase of some photography from the eastern Kentucky mountains. This work is both geographically and temporally relative to Demon’s youth, and helped clarify my mental picture of the novel’s world. My thanks to CS for passing this on.
Demon’s experience in school provides him with all manner of input that has been missing from his life. The society of others his age who are alike or distinct from him in numerous ways (ie. unlike Maggot, Tommy et al they are not all similarly trapped by circumstance); the competition and camaraderie of competitive sports; girls; lessons and encouragement in various subjects. As KS pointed out above, this can be a painful experience: finding out how you stand out in one respect or another. Just as interesting, however, is the care Kingsolver takes to enquire as to the roots of similar feelings of difference (and despondency, and inferiority) more generally: as though they are in the water in Lee County.
There have been hints of this strain in the novel previously: the idea of tobacco having once been a government-sponsored crop, until it wasn’t, plunging a whole industry (and community) into financial jeopardy. (Consider also the case of OxyContin: approved by the FDA for widespread use in pain management, only to spark an unimaginably ruinous opioid epidemic.) But here in the heart of Demon Copperhead, Kingsolver is teasing out a sense of place by unveiling it to her protagonist. Much of this comes via the introduction of Mr. Armstrong. He shares part of a name — but little else — with David Copperfield’s Dr. Strong, and in fact the name that Kingsolver gives him is interesting in-and-of-itself. Demon is perplexed by the fact that the teacher’s given name (Lewis) is in tribute to basketball legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. But, the only recently-dethroned NBA points total king, was born Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor Jr, and changed his name when he converted to Islam in his 20s. Consider how this act of manifesting one’s own sense of identity differs from Miss Betsy Woodall’s proposal: to change Demon’s surname to her own — a prospect at which he is not keen.
Beyond his name, Mr. Armstrong is responsible for introducing several aperture-widening considerations to Demon’s life, and our plot. He teaches Demon about the history of banjo music, and its roots in Africa. He elucidates the history of the term ‘Melungeon’, and how those to whom it was applied, reclaimed it. He tells the children about Virginia’s place in the Great Migration, and how the wax and wane of the region’s mining industry effected a population. He explains the paradox, born of ignorance, of people flying both American and Confederate flags. This too, he explains, is rooted in an inability to escape a story that has been told about the place in which they find themselves:
Some guys started mumbling heritage and nothing personal, and Mr. Armstrong took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, looking as usual somewhere between interested and flat-out flummoxed. “Whose history are we talking about?” (p267)
More broadly, he teaches them about stereotypes, and the importance of not lazily accepting the given story about a person, place, or thing. And (from his vantage as a Chicago transplant) he despairs at the extent to which certain stories about their home, and themselves, have already become ingrained in his students’ minds. Lobbying for their right to take part in academic competition, he admits that they would likely be beaten:
Because every school district to the east of us in this state has AP classes and science labs and other things our students have never had here.
The children, however, have adopted a different explanation:
the kids in Northern Virginia and those places just have more brains. But outside of a schoolroom, we could whip their asses. (p273)
They have internalised a presumed inferiority. Circumstance and lack (of advantage, of opportunity, of inspiration) has led them to accept a story about themselves: there are simply ways in which they are lesser, but they’re tough. The sadness of this almost makes Mr. Armstrong lose his composure. And we feel it too: we sense the injustice of any person — but especially a young person — being made to feel that their circumstances inherently, and inescapably, limit them. With particular respect to Demon, we might wonder whether Mr. Armstrong’s council is enough to rouse him.
It bears mentioning at least briefly, that the other role model in Demon’s life at this time — Coach Winfield (which, let’s be honest, is a name that’s a little too on-the-nose for a football coach) — is a more complicated case, but also (in his way) challenges Demon to rise above the narrative society has handed him.
“I’ll be honest, I see boys like you all the time, pissing away what God gave them. They’ve come from the trash of the trash. We all know it. The bad homes, the incarcerated parents. These boys just go looking for more trouble because it’s what they know.” (p252)
I’ve been really impressed by the way in which Kingsolver has made these themes more universal, whilst keeping them rooted in Demon’s particular story. I love how the book, and its protagonist, are becoming increasingly interested in Demon’s wider world.
A couple of quick hits that I took notes on and want to mention:
• Madonna’s cowgirl phase (from which Emmy is taking sartorial inspiration in chapter 31) was c. 2000, around the release of the album Music
• I was mentally preparing to write a whole bit about the use of the word ‘whenever’ in place of ‘when’, and then Mr. Armstrong went and beat me to it (p264)
• For a fascinating insight into how (non-professional) football can become almost an organising principle for an entire community of people without many other options, I recommend the Netflix documentary series Last Chance U. I’m cognisant that its action takes place 400+ miles south-west, and two states away from Virginia, but there are parallels.
• The character of Kent here in Demon Copperhead is (absolutely intentionally on Kingsolver’s part) spouting Purdue Pharma talking points about OxyContin verbatim (p243). Anyone who has watched Dopesick will be cheering Mrs. Peggott for taking that coupon off her husband! (Also, KS mentioned in their email to me that ‘In my line of work, I’m proud to say I sussed out the meth lab respectably early’. My particular expertise in this regard came from watching Breaking Bad, but KS is a Colorado-based narcotics detective: ‘We were marijuana for years, now we are mostly, sadly, fentanyl and its various analogues.’)
• In Demon Copperhead, as in David Copperfield, Agnes / Angus [we didn’t even talk about Angus (or U-Haul!) — sorry!] teases the protagonist about the frequency and duration of his infatuations. Readers of both novels would have spotted a young lady with the name Larkins! Did you also spot a boy named… Butcher!?
Before I sign off for the week, let me state an intention, and request your input. We’ve done a bunch of work on theme over the last couple of weeks, and next time around I’d like to focus a little more on language. I’ll be highlighting sentences and paragraphs that sing for me, and I invite you to do the same. Send them my way (along with a page number) and I’ll pick some to analyse next week.
OK, that’s it from me. I hope you have an enjoyable week, and I will see you back here in seven days, to discuss the novel up to the end of chapter 43.
I do, however, have a treat to leave you with. Two of our number have collaborated on a Spotify playlist for your listening pleasure. My thanks to SS & IM for putting this together, the former of whom has these notes for you:
Given Lee County, Virginia is in the Appalachian Mountains and, being the westernmost County in the State, sharing borders with both Kentucky and Tennessee, the area provides rich musical pickings, admittedly mainly from the worlds of Bluegrass and Country!
The playlist is also a mini tribute to Mr Armstrong and his wife Annie, a banjo and fiddle player, respectively, in the bluegrass band Fire in the Hole.
With one obvious exception, I have tried to pick a playlist where the artist was born close to Lee County (many are actually across the border in Kentucky) or the subject matter of the song is pertinent to the book.
- The Spice Girls - Holler
Their 9th and final number one single in the UK, and an apposite title!
- Wade Ward - Cumberland Gap
Wade was from Galax Virginia, and the Cumberland Gap is is the mountain pass near the tripoint of Kentucky, Virginia and Tennessee and, as far as I can tell, must be in Lee County.
- The Carter Family - Will the Circle Be Unbroken (also known as Can the Circle Be Unbroken)
To describe The Carter Family, who hailed from Maces Spring, Scott County, Virginia as the “first family” of Country Music would not be an exaggeration. Scott County borders Lee County. This version of the song features Johnny Cash, who lived much of his life in Nashville which, as we know, is in hitchhiking distance of Lee County.
- The Stanley Brothers - Mountain Dew
Ralph and Carter Stanley (with the Clinch Mountain Boys) were one of the earlier bluegrass bands, and were from Dickinson County, Virginia. Claire ands I saw Ralph play live on July 26th 1994 in London - he was in a wheelchair, having fallen off a tractor not that long before the trip! Younger readers might remember him from the Oh Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack.
- Bill Monroe & His Blue Grass Boys - Blue Moon of Kentucky
Bill (who famously fell out with almost everyone in the business) was from Rosine, Kentucky. He basically created what we know as bluegrass.
- Loretta Lynn - Coal Miner’s Daughter
Hard to get away from the mining references in the book. Loretta was from Butcher Hollow (that word again) Kentucky.
- Dwight Yoakam - Miner’s Prayer
I thought it was time for some country music in this playlist. Dwight, from Pikeville, Kentucky, was one of the new generation of musicians who kicked off the “new country’ scene. In the mid 1980s.
- The Osborne Brothers - Rocky Top
Back to bluegrass, with the Osborne Brothers, from Leslie County Kentucky, who took bluegrass into the 1960s and 1970s.
- Laurel & Hardy - Trail of the Lonesome Pine
Whilst neither were Appalachian, I love this song, and check out the lyrics!
- David Rawlings - Cumberland Gap
So geographically perfect, a second much more recent version chosen by Ian can’t do any harm.
- Sturgill Simpson - The Promise
Sturgill is from Breathitt County, Kentucky. Ian has been known to listen to this song on repeat…
That’s all folks. Personally I would have loved to include a song or two by my all time favourite Willie Nelson but (a) he’s from Texas, and (b) as we know from the start of Demon’s hitchhiking trip at the start of week 3, “Garth and Reba, fine, just no Willie please.” (p183)
Hey, it’s Adam again, because that last part reminded me of something. SS is right that the week’s reading opened with a hit on Willie Nelson, but it also near enough closed with an attack on vanilla, which I took personally. I choose vanilla. I love vanilla. It’s a flavour!
Till next time.
✌🏻
— Adam
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