Chantel's Reviews > Devil Is Fine

** spoiler alert ** It is important to note that most of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the book's subject matters & those detailed in my review overwhelming. I suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters that contain reflections on the death of a loved one, slavery, racism, substance abuse, bigotry, scenes depicting the graphic death of a minor, & others.

The salivating need to redeem the sacred soul leads to follies. Characters whose plight feels burdened by reality present readers with interesting subjects. The digestion of their story is unmoored by the current of other nutrients, the substance they offer is all their own. Yet, the troubled reality of those who receive no forgiveness, no calming finality to their torment, offer stories that are given as warnings rather than common truths.

I received this book in the evening. The post had come late & I had not been expecting the gift I found. I was quick to share my joy with my book-loving friends, & those whose relationship with literature differs quite significantly from my own. My enthusiasm was purely materialistic. I cannot rationalize that I receive books to review; this is something my young small-town self would find absurdly cool & to this day, a wave of humbling joy overcomes me. The background is given here because I had not heard of Vercher before receiving his book. I can confirm to you that the sunset’s gift of this story has left me longing for more of the author’s work.

In truth, as I spoke about my enthusiasm, & my humbled gratitude, in response to receiving this book, I wondered if I would be the target audience. Had the publisher been correct in sending me this book? Would I be able to appreciate the labelled scars on the skin & souls of the characters? The synopsis left much to the imagination & I ruminated on what possible avenues the author might take in order for his main character to tell his story.

If one is looking for a sad story, one is in good company here. Rather than adopt the genre of magical realism tinged with creatures of old school horror—the likes of which have been done before in this setting—Vercher offers the reader their own home; asks them to turn off the lights, & listen to the hum of silence, deafening them with anguish.

In essence, this is a story about grief. The main character begins to speak to his son who died in a car accident, with him at the wheel. The chapters follow the narrator as he attempts to push through the wall of bricks that he has built, unconsciously, around himself. He shimmies over mounds of regrets, sadness, & hollowed-out spaces that reflect his shortcomings to himself. The story he shares with the reader is complicated & simple; he is sad. However, the main character is also angry; his failure to be a better person resulted in years of frustration for his son & left him reeling in his last moments, grasping for safety with a parent who was never there to offer it.

While reading this story I began to wonder how I would explain it. What words would I use to recount my experiences with the plot & how would I describe the setting? Did I enjoy this story? Was the moral of the story tangible? Did the main character experience growth or regression? Was this a story that all readers may be able to appreciate? Though I have come to find the answers to these questions less easy to present in writing, the answer overall resides squarely with one’s own awareness of society.

In recent years, the subject of ethnicity, race, nationality; the abstract demise of community, & the Land, have circled spaces intended for open discourse. Those among us who have been made to perish lock-jawed in the dirt find that the trees that shade their unrestful repose have grown strong; ignorance cannot survive forever. Yet it does persist. The reality that led the tomb to be shattered; the intentional sinking ship; the fire to the crops; the genocidal intent to eradicate; all these things live in the bones of those who wander the earth desperate & hopeful to find what has been lost to them.

The main character has experience with these subjects on a more intimate level than simply through discussion. It is here that the reader will choose their path & decide how they will interpret the story.

On the one hand, a reader may revel in the magic that colours the perimeter of this story. The main character experiences a shift in his physique as he slowly transforms into a jellyfish. He spends days fearing the worst, losing sleep, & speaking to shadows, only to return to the water from whence he originated. On the other hand, readers may interpret the dual narrative as a secret whispered to those who saunter the shores of experience; the exposure to a broken fraction; attempting to live life not wholly one part, but neither insufficient in either.

As a person who empathizes with the reality of the main character, I found the dialogue that circled his truth to be presented authentically. Chapters explored the shifting tide of the diminished attention span, as those around him who are one with the identity they hold, discouraged him from expressing himself further, noting that no one cared to read about that anymore.

The frustration will surely mount in readers who recognize the truth in these statements; though, it is certainly powerful to share, what feels like a majority of people are not listening to understand but to suck dry the oyster so they may declare themselves full.

The narrative presents readers with snippets of blatant reality. Not everyone is given a spot at the table, some people aren’t even told that there is a table, left altogether unaware of a gathering. What may render this honesty difficult for certain readers to stomach is that it is presented by a character who is nearly, entirely, unlikeable. Readers who are led by logic & whose own days have been brimmed with an intimate acquaintanceship with humanity will have no trouble discerning value in what the main character is trying to communicate, even though he was a negative force in the life of his child.

I found the inclusion of such negative traits an interesting choice. Certainly, if one is among the crowd of those who tire of conversations that include race, one may decide upon this being the perfect reason to duck out; people are angry & so why listen?

On the other hand, I appreciated that the main character was redundantly flawed. This did not discount his reality. Indeed, if one studies the flow of the main character’s regression to a sea creature, the puddles of a grief-stricken parent, or simply the sorrow of a person who is intentionally misunderstood & ostracized because of what others see in him, this story speaks clearly about the empathy that is lacking in our communities. Why is it so difficult to accept that anger expressed is not an indication of fault in logic?

As the story progressed & the main character struggled to stay face, the plot explored the burly nature of imbecilic reasoning. Characters flew on to the page to express that seeing is believing & then quote the Bible as rationalized jargon that may support them in their crimes. These people wanted to continue to enslave the souls of those who perished deep into the earth, denoting value in success for a job well done rather than an intricate understanding of what it means to love someone.

By this I mean, that a person who loses without the ability to see, once more, what has been taken; a person whose sight witnesses despair & the similar, if not same skin walking villains protrude through the gentle flow of life; this person will never grow beyond the ignorance they wield.

Certain aspects of this story lingered without giving the reader further clarity into their presence. The main character speaks of his grandfather who was a terrible man; What does this mean? What changed in the days they spent together while the main character was a child? Did this man express racially derogatory sentiments? Did he leave the property—the plantation—to Malcolm because he wanted him to know that no matter how brilliant his melanin, how deep his brown eyes, or how thick his locs were; deep down he would always be the product of malice?

I cannot begin to know the answers to these questions though, I believe that the book does not necessitate me having clarity into the burdened soul of a bad man. Rather, I believe this book wants readers to reflect. Why would any of this have taken place?

Readers like me may wonder at the forgiveness that is not given to the main character. The soothing nature of the water sings back to him as he escapes the burden of being the person that he is in a world that does not accept any portion of his identity. There is no winning in a system where a person needs to break off pieces of themselves to fit keyholes & purport terminology that is neutral & inauthentic. I was glad to see him enveloped by the water that cups the land, the ecosystem that shields life from humanity.

Ultimately, this book was interesting & perhaps that is enough. When I think back, I am troubled by the aggression of the main character & flummoxed by his intentionality when treating others poorly. The flashbacks as his son grew up offered this story well-needed intimacy with the narrator, without which readers might be left wondering where to offer their sympathies.

Truthfully, I felt moved by mournfulness as the narrator revisited the death of his child; the destruction of a life that had yet to experience the good that does thrive in the world, due to the unfortunate seething anger of his parent. This left me with deeply wounded gloom.

My appreciation of this story mirrors the familiar twinge that beats deep in my mind. The sleepless nights & chatter with Grandfather Moon; the seething torment of rivers burdened with molasses; the life that seems utterly devoid of the tranquillity satiated by the ignorant, & an existence that is kept in the profoundly cavernous shadows of the self, unspoken to those whose boisterous cries decry an end of all things passed, though their pruned Capillaries drip downstream.

Readers may cherish the story that speaks truth into darkness even if only for the ghosts. Reprieve from misunderstanding & a hollowed existence for the fault of a shape that has been disavowed though crafted originally by a spirit whose mania romanticized the very scoundrel it created, is all but absent. Such is the nature of the tormented, invisibly apparent, tremors of sorrow.

Thank you to Celadon Books & John Vercher for the free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!