A review by joaniemaloney
Universal Harvester, by John Darnielle
3.0
Having thought so dearly of [book:Wolf in White Van|20575425], I was hoping and expecting to love this. I mean, you have such an intriguing premise, taking place in this very specific time and place that's now firmly in the past. A young man works in a video rental store in a small town, and life goes on as it does, until one day, one customer, and then another, tells him with their returns that there has been something recorded over their rented VHS tapes. He takes them home to watch and finds unsettling footage of these home videos spliced in the middle of these movies, with anonymous figures and a violence thrumming underneath the surface. The most disturbing thing of all may be the fact that the few landmarks that can be spotted, makes it clear that these videos weren't filmed very far from where he lives.
This alone is a really solid idea for a thriller. Anything could come from this. That said, I wasn't expecting anything to spiral too out of control because I figured the style and pacing would be similar to Darnielle's debut, so I wasn't disappointed with how it all unfurled, for the most part. I think if you had picked this up randomly, read the summary and saw the cover (which is amaaaazing, by the way), and wasn't familiar with his writing, then maybe you would expecting something darker, more violent, so I don't blame readers for being let down. I so loved Part 1 and how it was all brewing, with the eerie atmosphere and the mystery of this footage appearing out of the blue, trying to figure it all out, and it was all so neatly contained in a way that if this was a novella of just that first part, I would've been perfectly fine with all that was left unsaid and unsolved. It's only two novels but I find that Darnielle has such a knack for beginnings and setting up all these threads for the utmost possibility in the past and present of his characters. That's so, so difficult to do, especially in the shorter formats (~200 pages or so novels) that he chooses to work in (so far).
But what tugged at my heart, and made me realize I wasn't continuing to read solely for the solving of the mystery, was that this story wasn't only about this possibility of horror and destruction, but grief. That was in fact the violence that was being inflicted. It was loss that broke everything, and the healing that did and didn't come that tied it all together, in all the messiest of ways. I loved the way the father and son relationship between Steve and Jeremy was told after the death of the mother, Linda. Very quickly, and almost in a painfully casual manner, you get the past:
These two really stood out for me. The dialogue wasn't necessarily about what was being said, but what was unsaid. It wasn't done in an overtly stoic way in the manner society seems to expect men to be, hiding their feelings, but with such tenderness because they were both so aware of how they could hurt each other, and trying to protect the precious bond they still had. I think every scene of them had the potential for heartbreak in the way that scars from such losses don't truly heal. An example of this:
And almost immediately after this scene, as we're allowed to live in Jeremy's thoughts for a while as he's trying to figure out his directionless life:
I don't think I'm too disappointed if I have some more time to think about it, because the writing is as good as I remembered it, and the familial relationships (not just Steve and Jeremy) are drawn up so delicately but with such strength in their bonds, that this is more like a 3.5 stars for me, even if I had very high hopes for this to deliver on its potential. I got a bit lost in the world for a while, with the various characters and the past and present coming and going, so honestly I don't know what sort of an ending could've satisfied me, but this one didn't. I just wanted more. The juggling of the moving parts was quite impressive though. For a slimmer volume, it didn't feel that way because it made me read very closely - there would always be an unexpected turn of phrase or a change in tense that was so subtle if you didn't pay attention, and when you did, the surprise was worth the effort.
I'll definitely be among the first to read his next novel. I'm totally on board with whatever his next idea is. The way he writes lingers on with you, and I enjoy the melancholy so very much.
This alone is a really solid idea for a thriller. Anything could come from this. That said, I wasn't expecting anything to spiral too out of control because I figured the style and pacing would be similar to Darnielle's debut, so I wasn't disappointed with how it all unfurled, for the most part. I think if you had picked this up randomly, read the summary and saw the cover (which is amaaaazing, by the way), and wasn't familiar with his writing, then maybe you would expecting something darker, more violent, so I don't blame readers for being let down. I so loved Part 1 and how it was all brewing, with the eerie atmosphere and the mystery of this footage appearing out of the blue, trying to figure it all out, and it was all so neatly contained in a way that if this was a novella of just that first part, I would've been perfectly fine with all that was left unsaid and unsolved. It's only two novels but I find that Darnielle has such a knack for beginnings and setting up all these threads for the utmost possibility in the past and present of his characters. That's so, so difficult to do, especially in the shorter formats (~200 pages or so novels) that he chooses to work in (so far).
But what tugged at my heart, and made me realize I wasn't continuing to read solely for the solving of the mystery, was that this story wasn't only about this possibility of horror and destruction, but grief. That was in fact the violence that was being inflicted. It was loss that broke everything, and the healing that did and didn't come that tied it all together, in all the messiest of ways. I loved the way the father and son relationship between Steve and Jeremy was told after the death of the mother, Linda. Very quickly, and almost in a painfully casual manner, you get the past:
'The gutter wasn't going to fall right off if they waited until daylight to fix it: Steve knew it, Jeremy knew it. But they also both knew to keep busy in winter if they could. Mom had gone off new Highway 30 into a telephone pole in the snow six years ago, in 1994. Jeremy'd been sixteen.' (p. 6)
These two really stood out for me. The dialogue wasn't necessarily about what was being said, but what was unsaid. It wasn't done in an overtly stoic way in the manner society seems to expect men to be, hiding their feelings, but with such tenderness because they were both so aware of how they could hurt each other, and trying to protect the precious bond they still had. I think every scene of them had the potential for heartbreak in the way that scars from such losses don't truly heal. An example of this:
"It's always going to feel strange without Mom," Jeremy said.
"Do you think - do you think it'd be all right with your mom?" Steve said, miles high in the darkness now, airless, trying to acclimate himself to the cold.
"Well, sure," said Jeremy. "I mean, sure. She'd want you to meet somebody, I mean. She was like that."
'It was true. It was one of the things Steve missed most. Linda knew what was best for him, and whatever was best for him was what she wanted, too; she'd always seemed happiest if she could put him at ease. There are people who talk to their loved ones in prayer, who seek guidance and hear something in the gap between asking and the subsequent silence, but Steve Heldt had never been one of those people. Linda was buried in Nevada Municipal Cemetery. He was certain of it. He had seen her lowered into the grave.
"I want to do right by your mother," Steve said.
Baylor scored again. Jeremy wished his mom could send some sign to Dad from somewhere: from the stars, from a dream, from down in the soil.
"You should be happy in your life, Dad," said Jeremy. They left it there.' (p. 58-59)
And almost immediately after this scene, as we're allowed to live in Jeremy's thoughts for a while as he's trying to figure out his directionless life:
'Besides: there was Dad. Jeremy felt like it was time to make room for his father. It was a strange feeling, thinking about Dad like this, as a person whose life might be distinct from his own. The two of them had shaped the space they lived in around his mother's absence; they'd made it a comfortable place you didn't have to think about too much. It was a known quantity, a knowable outcome. In local terms, that was its strength, but some nights at dinner Jeremy looked at his father and felt a sadness he couldn't quite name.' (p. 60)
I don't think I'm too disappointed if I have some more time to think about it, because the writing is as good as I remembered it, and the familial relationships (not just Steve and Jeremy) are drawn up so delicately but with such strength in their bonds, that this is more like a 3.5 stars for me, even if I had very high hopes for this to deliver on its potential. I got a bit lost in the world for a while, with the various characters and the past and present coming and going, so honestly I don't know what sort of an ending could've satisfied me, but this one didn't. I just wanted more. The juggling of the moving parts was quite impressive though. For a slimmer volume, it didn't feel that way because it made me read very closely - there would always be an unexpected turn of phrase or a change in tense that was so subtle if you didn't pay attention, and when you did, the surprise was worth the effort.
I'll definitely be among the first to read his next novel. I'm totally on board with whatever his next idea is. The way he writes lingers on with you, and I enjoy the melancholy so very much.