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trilobiter's review
4.0
Middle America is kind of a spooky place. If all the gritty poetry and photography is to be believed, it is constantly on the brink of falling out of the present into an apocalyptic timelessness of lost glory and liminal existence. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that it always appears to have just done so. At least that's how it looks from out on the west coast.
I like how this book handles the experience of life on the plains from so many perspectives, weaving them together in a way that almost constitutes a memoir. It's easy enough to visualize the whole thing as a novel in which all of the characters have yet to realize they've been dead for years. A fascinating effect for a rather gloomy, yet enjoyable, read.
I like how this book handles the experience of life on the plains from so many perspectives, weaving them together in a way that almost constitutes a memoir. It's easy enough to visualize the whole thing as a novel in which all of the characters have yet to realize they've been dead for years. A fascinating effect for a rather gloomy, yet enjoyable, read.
nick_jenkins's review
5.0
Reads like the voiceover of a Terrence Malick film. That's a compliment.
Sherwood Anderson and James Wright (maybe some Philip Levine, too) are probably the closest literary analogues, however, and Fairchild more than measures up. Fairchild's line is so natural, so common, yet so taut and tempered.
Sherwood Anderson and James Wright (maybe some Philip Levine, too) are probably the closest literary analogues, however, and Fairchild more than measures up. Fairchild's line is so natural, so common, yet so taut and tempered.
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