Mostly Dead Things by Kristen Arnett: A review

Some of the reviews that I read of this book described it as a comic novel. Those reviewers must have read a different book than I did.

Admittedly there are some moments of black humor but mostly this is a story about a grieving family that is unable to reach out to each other and communicate their need for understanding and love. These are some seriously mixed up folks in the mold of characters that we've come to expect in novels set in Florida.

This one is set in Central Florida and is Kristen Arnett's first novel. It features a family of taxidermists who are tortured by a couple of tragedies from which they seem to be unable to recover and move on.

We meet the family through Arnett's narrator, Jessa-Lynn Morton. Jessa-Lynn is the child of a taxidermist. She has a younger brother, Milo, but Jessa-Lynn is the one who is close to her father and wants to follow in his footsteps. Her happiest times are those she spends at his side learning the art of taxidermy, along with the need to treat the dead animals with respect and dignity. She is assumed to be his successor in the trade. Milo is the more sensitive of the two and goes his own way.

The succession comes sooner than expected. Jessa walks into the taxidermy shop one morning to find her father's dead body on one of the tables. He had shot himself (he had been suffering from cancer) and left a note for Jessa apologizing and asking her to handle things. And Jessa does.

But before this tragedy, there was Brynn. Brynn was Jessa's best - maybe only - friend growing up. They were always close but as they hit puberty, the character of their relationship changed. Jessa was in love with Brynn and Brynn was a flirt and a tease. The inevitable happened. They became involved in a sexual relationship. That relationship was complicated by the fact that Milo was also in love with Brynn and Brynn wanted a marriage and children. At the same time, she also wanted to continue having sex with Jessa. Since Brynn usually got what she wanted, that was the way it played out; she married Milo and continued the affair with Jessa. From her perspective, the Jessa/Milo duo made one perfect spouse. But then she became discontented and, with no warning, left town with a man she had just met, leaving everyone including her two children behind. Jessa and Milo were devastated.

Meanwhile, Jessa and Milo's mother, Libby. carried on, holding the family together as best she could. She took care of her grandchildren while their father worked. Or didn't. But once her husband committed suicide, it freed her in a way that she had not experienced before. Her husband had had a controlling personality and he had prevented her from expressing her artistic talent. Once he was gone, that talent began to express itself in some unique ways. She began to go into the taxidermy shop and take some of the animals that her husband had worked on and pose them together in lewd tableaux in the shop windows. Jessa was appalled and begged her to stop. But in fact, the art was quite popular with some of the public.

As Arnett tells her story, she switches the action back and forth from past to present in a very satisfying way. It enables us to understand the motives of her characters. We might want to grab them by the shoulders and vigorously shake some sense into them, but we understand them. How she manages to resolve the issues besetting the family requires a bit of suspension of disbelief. The ending, after all the drama, was maybe a little too perfect. But that is a very tiny quibble about a hugely satisfying read.

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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