Order THE YEAR OF THE STORM here
Fourteen was the year my mother and sister disappeared, the year I lost my mind. The year I learned secrets that will stay with me until I am no longer able to think of them.
And fourteen, most of all, was the year of the storm.
I feel like Southern Gothic is one of the last great literaty tradition, a remnant from an era where publishing was about something else than marketing strategies and number crunching. Today, the game is all about genre, target audience and trying to keep the man pleased, so that drains a lot of the magic out of literature. Pardon my old man rant, but I get enthusiastic about Southern Gothic literature. I love it. Plus, I'm in the right headspace to enjoy it nowadays, but that's another, longer story. THE YEAR OF THE STORM, by John Mantooth is a Southern Gothic coming-of-age novel about coping with loss. My favourite thing about it is that it doesn't give a flying fuck about what coming-of-age novels are supposed to say. It's kind of an anti coming-of-age, like CATCHER IN THE RYE, with supernatural elements and a more sympathetic protagonist. Who wouldn't want some?
Danny was fourteen when he witnesses his mother and his autistic little sister walk out and disappear into a powerful storm. Left alone with his father, he struggles to adjust to a life without them and refuses to give up hope that they are coming back. When a beat-up Vietnam veteran named Walter Pike shows up on his doorstep, claiming to know where his mother and sister have vanished, Danny clings to this news like a life raft. He would pursue the truth no matter what his father and his best friend Cliff have to say about it. But what is the truth exactly? What does Walter Pike have to offer? In certain cases, the truth is so damned bizarre and extraordinary that it requires a little bit of faith. When reality is keeping you in the dark, surviving requires you to believe in things you cannot understand.
Coming-of-age is not exactly an original theme in Southern Gothic fiction. Hell, it's one of the most popular tropes in literature. Kissing your childhood goodbye, shedding your innocence like a protective cocoon and becoming an adult is a story that resonates within us all, because we've been through it and we always love to see somebody gracefully go through the same ordeal. THE YEAR OF THE STORM throws an interesting monkey wrench in the convention: why would it have to be this way? What if the children within is the best part of us? The protagonists Danny and Walter are constantly confronted to mediocrity, to the abuse of other people and keep themselves centered with the memories of people they loved and the thin sliver of hope that they'll see them again someday. They're not exactly rational about it, but they live in a world where rationality means resignation. Even if I'm a pretty rational person myself, I can get behind that philosophy: it's not because something isn't explained and understood that it doesn't exist.
''I say that we climb this tree and get in position because Sarah and Rebecca are going to be here in bikinis. And Rebecca's like twenty. Let that sink in for a second.''
I shook my head, I'd been a part of Cliff's schemes before.
''I'm going to pretend you didn't just shake your head and roll your eyes,'' Cliff said. ''Two words: Golden. Opportunity.''
I shrugged. I felt tired and completely uninvolved even if there might be an opportunity to see female flesh.
''You ever stop to think that me and you are just lusers, Cliff?''
''Of course we're losers, but we're losers with binoculars. Is there a problem?''
I'm always wary of liking novels with teenage protagonists, because they feast on the concept of bullying to create tension and antagonism with the same gracefulness than a competitive eater stuffing wet hot dogs down his throat. It's never pretty. THE YEAR OF THE STORM features several scenes of bullying, yet manages to keep its dignity in that regards. I'm not sure I fully wrapped my head around why it's working in this novel and not elsewhere. I don't think the word ''bully'' or ''bullying'' was ever actually printed on the pages of THE YEAR OF THE STORM and it's a novel about two men rejected by the world, caught in-between realities so I suppose there is a sense of purpose to John Mantooth's use of bullies, here. If anything, it's evidence that Mantooth refuses to be didactic with his fiction and writes scenes to create moments first and foremost. THE YEAR OF THE STORM has the purity of intent of good art. It used themes that I openly dislike and manage not to antagonize me.
I really liked the boldness of THE YEAR OF THE STORM. It's both a reverse coming-of-age novel featuring the drama of becoming an adult and a mysterious, gracefully written Southern Gothic story about the unexplained powers of nature. No matter what books or television or the internet will tell you, it's an absolute tragedy to become an adult. It's the most tired of the dead tired clichés in existence, but both child and adult should coexist in the same person. A novel that reminds you of this great fucking platitude without coming off as completely corny is a successful novel to me and that's what THE YEAR OF THE STORM did. It's a clever, original and unique novel that eschews precise labeling because it doesn't fit any precise mold. It has the timelessness of novels that understand literary tradition.