~ The Outlaw Album, by Daniel Woodrell ~
Having read the review of Woodrell’s Winter’s Bone and then eagerly devoured the novel, I sought out more from this author, and managed to get my hands on his 2011 collection of short stories, also set in Ozark country.
It has been pure Woodrell from the get go: tough, uncompromising, stark beauty, life pared right back, down to bare bones. As always, his writing is powerful, visceral, layered. The very first line of the first story starts with
Once Boshell finally killed his neighbor, he couldn’t seem to quit killing him.
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Of course, given this is Woodrell, there is no euphemism or metaphor or allegory here, it means exactly what it says – Boshell murdered his neighbor – shot him, in fact. And then he goes on ‘killing’ him in different ways for a few days. The power of the writing is such that instead of reeling in horror at the murderer, the reader sees from behind Boshell’s eyes, comprehending the motivation for the repeated acts of violence. The next story similarly leads the reader to sympathise with – even if not quite condon – violence perpetrated to right great wrongs, which have no recourse to justice otherwise. It is not that the reader needs to sanction violence against a serial rapist, but deep down, where it is red and bloody, one can hardly suppress the nugget of satisfaction at this comeuppance and rough justice.
Sanctified violence, if indeed such a thing exists, is the theme of this collection. Woodrell speaks to something dark, something at the edges of each of our civilised selves. His stories are about brutality, but not cruelty. His tragedies are quiet, unhistrionic, but no less tragic for all that. His humour is sharp and dark:
My arms ached already from the thought of digging his new home, for I was thinking he would soon be in it.
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I do not pretend to understand all the stories; One United for instance, is a baffling story where a chap calls Sleepy seems to threaten a family for no reason. The regional dialect is always delightful, even if baffling.
“Their cheese hardly melts” (151)
“They haul ’em warm, anyhow.” (152).
It is not clear to me what these exchanges mean, but it is all part of creating the ambience of Ozark country, and bringing it so vividly to life. Woodrell’s descriptions are a feast; an extended quote might provide a feel of his cadences and vocabulary:
Sleepy’s eyes look like he’s napping all the time. It’s easy to think he’s drowsing even when he looks straight at you, as his eyelids have been lame and droopy since he was born missing a needed muscle or something, so they don’t ever open wide or shut tight. when he blinks, there’s a tiny rounded twitch over the eyeballs, but no real flapping of the lids. He’s got various rough habits and rattler eyes, and his air of menace is sincere and fetching to certain sorts There have been plenty of road-house gals who swooned for him, surrendered to his complete scariness, but none he kept long. Some gals went away of a sudden at night and left behind everything they owned that wasn’t on them. Abandoned undies might flap from our clothesline for weeks.
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In the last story, Returning the River, Harky is about to be returned to jail, ‘the slams’, and his ‘baby brother’ joins him for a few last hours or even minutes of freedom before he is caught, hunted down, after setting their neighbour’s house on fire. Both brothers seem to think this is normal life, they don’t attempt to escape but they do play games with the police. This is the culture in a nutshell – violent with its own rationale, uncaring of consequences but willing to pay the price in full, never asking if they can afford it, no complains or attempts to weasel out. And family ties holding strong, whatever the person has done.
A slim volume, but hard hitting. Woodrell’s writing is like the whisky his characters always seem to be drinking – potent.
The Outlaw Album, by Daniel Woodrell. Little, Brown, 2011.
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