mblanke's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.75
Content Warnings
Graphic: Self harm, Murder, Body horror, Suicidal thoughts, Pregnancy, Violence, Physical abuse, Grief, Sexual harassment, Gore, and Gun violence
Moderate: Death of parent and Child death
Minor: Adult/minor relationship and Alcoholism
punkrockingnerd's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
It's good, but it could've been better. What was advertised as a gritty, realistic slice-of-the-criminal-life in the bayou ended up swerving into magical realism territory, and I guess that wasn't what I was in the mood for while reading this. You get to know a few characters, but I feel that if the world-building had been limited to a realistic bayou, that would've allowed more character development instead of having to focus on learning about new rules along the way.
Once I was reading it, I was usually hooked and finding it difficult to put down, but I had a hard time picking it back up again after taking a break. I don't know, a lot of the tragedy didn't feel justified or relatable, so I don't think it'll stick around in my memory for long, but it's a solid Southern Gothic if you're looking to read some good titles in the genre.
Once I was reading it, I was usually hooked and finding it difficult to put down, but I had a hard time picking it back up again after taking a break. I don't know, a lot of the tragedy didn't feel justified or relatable, so I don't think it'll stick around in my memory for long, but it's a solid Southern Gothic if you're looking to read some good titles in the genre.
raforall's review against another edition
5.0
Star review in the December 2019 issue of Booklist Magazine
https://raforall.blogspot.com/2019/12/what-im-reading-boatmans-daughter.html
Three Words That Describe This Book: lyrical, haunting, complex characters
https://raforall.blogspot.com/2019/12/what-im-reading-boatmans-daughter.html
Three Words That Describe This Book: lyrical, haunting, complex characters
laurenbookwitchbitch's review against another edition
3.0
I liked everything about this book (the atmosphere, the mythology, the ambiance, the characters, the plot,) everything about it..except the writing. Is that possible? “The Boatman’s Daughter,” is a Southern Gothic tale for the ages. Madmen, witch women, whispers in the water, a baby born with webbed feet, a slowly crumbling cult. A girl determined to seek the truth. It is a creepy read that thrums with mystery and the horror of a land and it’s people exploited. I only wish the author knew how to write a concise sentence.
naokamiya's review against another edition
5.0
Where was this all my life? I think calling this "plotless" or "meandering" like I've seen some accuse it of are kind of missing the mark on this book, not only because it pretty clearly has a plot and an extremely strong emotional core within that plot, but also because story isn't really the main draw of this novel. The primary interest Andy Davidson seems to have with this tale, alongside his characters, is in the textural, a sensory starburst of imagery and feelings that construe the Texarkana swamp these characters live in as a force of nature and central figure in itself. I open this book and on every page I can smell the sawdust of Miranda's basement, hear the buzz of cicadas humming in my skull, taste mouthfuls of stale southern whiskey and feel the slick film of swamp water on my ankles as I wade through this highly stylized yet completely enveloping world. This emphasis on setting is obviously not new, but the way Davidson's lush prose brings Texarkana to life on every single page is no doubt deliberate and necessary to bringing the swamp to the forefront not only as setting but as character. The result of this painstaking attention to detail even extends to sensory minutiae, and this place feels genuinely primeval, less like somewhere that could ever possibly exist in America and more like an otherworldly jungle the characters just happen to exist in and one that will exist long after they are gone.
And sure, you could reduce this all to a cliché storm of southern gothic tropes if you want, and there's no disputing almost all of the images and feelings Davidson conjures here have been conjured elsewhere. There's brutal crimes, there's old witches cackling in the bayou, there's characters with stylized names like Billy Cotton and Miranda Crabtree etc. But even setting aside my own opinions on clichés (I don't really care about them nor frankly find the term "cliché" to be useful as critical analysis at all), how much do tropes really matter here when they're highlighted by this much lovingly detailed care to crafting this setting? This book could only have been written by someone who lives and breathes southern gothic, the genre clearly this book's lifeblood and heart, by a person who is from this setting and clearly cares about it. Despite, or maybe because of the attention to detail, Texarkana here feels like it's portrayed with hushed reverence, and that is the soul of southern gothic, this spirit of the south that can only really be understood by those who understand that culture and background firsthand. "Cliché" is a dismissal that can be applied to anything, and if it really has to be used, I'd much rather see it accused of something else that's much less lovingly crafted than this book is.
I've waxed philosophical about setting and textural detail, so what about the plot itself, then? As I said earlier, it's fairly straightforward, being a mud-slathered crime thriller with exciting elements of the supernatural and Russian folklore intermingling with the southern heat and haze. This clashing of separate aesthetics and cultural mythos could have been jarring but it works against all odds, and is just like the rest of the book informed entirely by this care for the setting. The inciting incident (outside of the prologue) doesn't even happen until like 120 pages into the book because the first third is spent building up the novel's mythology and character through these details - Miranda's arc as an adult doesn't start until this point, but the thing is the setting's arc - remember, another character - starts before hers does. I can see why people would be frustrated with these choices, but to me it only works in the novel's favor and goes a long way into enveloping me into the storm of betrayal, familial love, brutal violence and demonic forces that comprise the main stretch of the story.
But an unexpected highlight of "The Boatman's Daughter" is also what it has to say about femininity and masculinity. Women are portrayed as non-sexualized, completely independent and capable (mostly channeled through the incredibly strong arcs of both Miranda and Iskra), but also there's a reverential admiration for femininity here in a way that suggests women are more privy to the spiritual than men ever can be and understanding of the world in a way that men cannot break or take away from them. This works especially in the highly Pagan context of the novel, and especially through Iskra (whose Russian heritage and Pagan beliefs are at the forefront of her character) seeing as these marginalized spiritual beliefs have commonly been used by men in power to justify the torture, enslavement, and demoralization of women, especially through the excuse of Christianity.
As far as the men go, toxic masculinity and male ego are the driving forces for antagonists Charlie Riddle and Billy Cotton, and it's interesting how they both represent a sliding spectrum of this particular evil - while Riddle's brand of toxic masculinity and misogyny is more outwardly frightening and aggressive, Cotton's is petulant, fragile and pathetic, one of empty and frail delusions of grandeur channeled through toxic men in power's eternal excuse of "godliness". And John Avery acts as a counterbalance to them both, a generous man forced into horrible situations by these same abusers, doing what he does for the same reasons Miranda does and a reverent love for his family. Men's potential is key here, for the amount they have is as limitless as women's, and only needs to be unlocked for the greater good of themselves, others and the world.
And I would be remiss if I didn't talk about Miranda, the woman who is as integral to this story as the world around her. She is a woman who understands the world and its injustices because of how cruelly her own innocence was lost at a young age, and though she is complacent to these systemic cruelties at first simply because this has just been her life to this point, it's ultimately her own moral conscious and the love she has for others that leads her to question if this system is really as unbendable as she has been told. Through the love she has that she embodies both through the love she has of her late father and the love she has of Littlefish and Iskra and the girl, she comes to realize that this system of enslavement - of women, of Pagans, of anyone this criminal hegemony wants to selfishly lord over - is not an eternal law of the universe, and she works against it actively once she realizes this. Miranda's driving motivators are relatable, considering what moves her is love for her (found) family and desire to keep them safe, but regardless of how common a motivator that is for protagonists, what it says, both about her and human empathy as a whole, is beautiful - that caring for others is ultimately caring for oneself, breaking the chains that bind you simply by recognizing the importance of the people in our lives and how our loves and relationships inform one another. It is through this avenue that Miranda in the end
I'm not too surprised this novel has a middling rating here - even with the breadth of diversity at work here, not only in theme but aesthetic, character, setting, tone, etc., it's pretty wholly dedicated to a niche, but with this niche it does something beautifully and breathes life into its scenery and characters the way so much genre fiction tries to get right but just doesn't. There is a lot of complexity at work in this book and if you read it and found it boring or too grounded in genre, I urge you to revisit it - this is not only a rich aesthetic experience but a beautifully told story with a lot of things going for it beyond its surface level existence as a supernatural crime thriller. This one definitely means strongly to me and I look forward to experiencing this story again and again.
All her love poured into the boy, a torrent, cutting new shapes and surely filling them like a river flooding its banks.
"DO YOU SEE YOUR PATH?"
"I do."
"WILL YOU WALK IT?"
"I will."
And sure, you could reduce this all to a cliché storm of southern gothic tropes if you want, and there's no disputing almost all of the images and feelings Davidson conjures here have been conjured elsewhere. There's brutal crimes, there's old witches cackling in the bayou, there's characters with stylized names like Billy Cotton and Miranda Crabtree etc. But even setting aside my own opinions on clichés (I don't really care about them nor frankly find the term "cliché" to be useful as critical analysis at all), how much do tropes really matter here when they're highlighted by this much lovingly detailed care to crafting this setting? This book could only have been written by someone who lives and breathes southern gothic, the genre clearly this book's lifeblood and heart, by a person who is from this setting and clearly cares about it. Despite, or maybe because of the attention to detail, Texarkana here feels like it's portrayed with hushed reverence, and that is the soul of southern gothic, this spirit of the south that can only really be understood by those who understand that culture and background firsthand. "Cliché" is a dismissal that can be applied to anything, and if it really has to be used, I'd much rather see it accused of something else that's much less lovingly crafted than this book is.
I've waxed philosophical about setting and textural detail, so what about the plot itself, then? As I said earlier, it's fairly straightforward, being a mud-slathered crime thriller with exciting elements of the supernatural and Russian folklore intermingling with the southern heat and haze. This clashing of separate aesthetics and cultural mythos could have been jarring but it works against all odds, and is just like the rest of the book informed entirely by this care for the setting. The inciting incident (outside of the prologue) doesn't even happen until like 120 pages into the book because the first third is spent building up the novel's mythology and character through these details - Miranda's arc as an adult doesn't start until this point, but the thing is the setting's arc - remember, another character - starts before hers does. I can see why people would be frustrated with these choices, but to me it only works in the novel's favor and goes a long way into enveloping me into the storm of betrayal, familial love, brutal violence and demonic forces that comprise the main stretch of the story.
But an unexpected highlight of "The Boatman's Daughter" is also what it has to say about femininity and masculinity. Women are portrayed as non-sexualized, completely independent and capable (mostly channeled through the incredibly strong arcs of both Miranda and Iskra), but also there's a reverential admiration for femininity here in a way that suggests women are more privy to the spiritual than men ever can be and understanding of the world in a way that men cannot break or take away from them. This works especially in the highly Pagan context of the novel, and especially through Iskra (whose Russian heritage and Pagan beliefs are at the forefront of her character) seeing as these marginalized spiritual beliefs have commonly been used by men in power to justify the torture, enslavement, and demoralization of women, especially through the excuse of Christianity.
As far as the men go, toxic masculinity and male ego are the driving forces for antagonists Charlie Riddle and Billy Cotton, and it's interesting how they both represent a sliding spectrum of this particular evil - while Riddle's brand of toxic masculinity and misogyny is more outwardly frightening and aggressive, Cotton's is petulant, fragile and pathetic, one of empty and frail delusions of grandeur channeled through toxic men in power's eternal excuse of "godliness". And John Avery acts as a counterbalance to them both, a generous man forced into horrible situations by these same abusers, doing what he does for the same reasons Miranda does and a reverent love for his family. Men's potential is key here, for the amount they have is as limitless as women's, and only needs to be unlocked for the greater good of themselves, others and the world.
And I would be remiss if I didn't talk about Miranda, the woman who is as integral to this story as the world around her. She is a woman who understands the world and its injustices because of how cruelly her own innocence was lost at a young age, and though she is complacent to these systemic cruelties at first simply because this has just been her life to this point, it's ultimately her own moral conscious and the love she has for others that leads her to question if this system is really as unbendable as she has been told. Through the love she has that she embodies both through the love she has of her late father and the love she has of Littlefish and Iskra and the girl, she comes to realize that this system of enslavement - of women, of Pagans, of anyone this criminal hegemony wants to selfishly lord over - is not an eternal law of the universe, and she works against it actively once she realizes this. Miranda's driving motivators are relatable, considering what moves her is love for her (found) family and desire to keep them safe, but regardless of how common a motivator that is for protagonists, what it says, both about her and human empathy as a whole, is beautiful - that caring for others is ultimately caring for oneself, breaking the chains that bind you simply by recognizing the importance of the people in our lives and how our loves and relationships inform one another. It is through this avenue that Miranda in the end
Spoiler
comes to finally accept the loss of her father, and through this acceptance, acceptance of herself and her own place in the world, her path.I'm not too surprised this novel has a middling rating here - even with the breadth of diversity at work here, not only in theme but aesthetic, character, setting, tone, etc., it's pretty wholly dedicated to a niche, but with this niche it does something beautifully and breathes life into its scenery and characters the way so much genre fiction tries to get right but just doesn't. There is a lot of complexity at work in this book and if you read it and found it boring or too grounded in genre, I urge you to revisit it - this is not only a rich aesthetic experience but a beautifully told story with a lot of things going for it beyond its surface level existence as a supernatural crime thriller. This one definitely means strongly to me and I look forward to experiencing this story again and again.
All her love poured into the boy, a torrent, cutting new shapes and surely filling them like a river flooding its banks.
"DO YOU SEE YOUR PATH?"
"I do."
"WILL YOU WALK IT?"
"I will."
joliekaye's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0
lush505's review against another edition
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
laurelinwonder's review against another edition
3.0
Okay okay, this was not quite what I was looking for, but I think I'm in a weird reading slump, so know that the story is 4 stars, my personal, crabby old lady experience was 3 stars. There were some dark themes at work here, that were a nod to "The Devil All the Time" for me, but also not as strong. Take this with a grain of salt, I have wandered into the realm of extreme horror in recent reads, so my bar is very high. I will say that if you are a parent, maybe skip this one for what happens to babies. That did sucker punch me, but having a kid changes how you see the world. So if you want something like "Winter's Bone" and a bit of a dark Bayou ride, this is great, unless you are feeling very particular at the moment.
prophecygir1's review against another edition
4.0
Evocative, lush, atmospheric. Sadly, any actual supernatural or magical elements that were introduced felt a little underdeveloped or underutilized; I’m not quite sure how to articulate the missing piece I felt while reading, but I found myself wishing there was more to bridge the mystical lore and the human evils driving most of the story. In some ways, the magic felt more like deus ex machina. More often than not the element felt more like an outlier, I’m not sure how much the story actually benefitted from it.
Otherwise, the prose is exquisite, immersive, the characters unique and fascinating, and there are a couple of unexpected revelations that I enjoyed. I thought the book was mostly well-paced, although it wrapped up rather abruptly.
Otherwise, the prose is exquisite, immersive, the characters unique and fascinating, and there are a couple of unexpected revelations that I enjoyed. I thought the book was mostly well-paced, although it wrapped up rather abruptly.