Every once in a while you read a book that you absolutely love – seriously, it may be the best thing I’ve read all year – and have no one to recommend it to. Cry Father is not a book for everybody. It’s not even for most people. I’m honestly not sure who it is for. Because who wants to admit to loving a bloody, drug-induced, alcohol-fueled novel featuring animal cruelty?
I do, apparently. I know some of you may have grown up reading wholesome books like Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables. And you may love them. Odds are they taught you all about great literature and how people should behave and the proper way the world should function. Not me. I loved Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and Goosebumps (and I already professed my love for the show Are You Afraid of the Dark?). And those taught me to appreciate gnawing and blood and wendigos… They are the perfect gateway literature to novels like The Devil All the Time, Donnybrook, and Cry Father*. If you didn’t like those, you might as well not even pick this one up, despite its literary perfection.
Patterson Wells, professional debris clearer and watcher of human misery, is miserable. He lost his young son years ago and hasn’t been able to move on. Instead, in a diary of sorts, he writes letters to his dead son. Because he doesn’t want to let go. And when the diary doesn’t provide enough solace, he drinks. Drinking is more effective anyway. Patterson meets Junior, the wayward sociopathic son of his neighbor, with the intention of not getting caught up in his madness. Instead, he finds himself dragged deeper in the drug runner’s antics.
This novel is not for the faint of heart. It’s brutal, heartbreaking, and beautiful. It’s as bloody as it is poetic. Set in Colorado, it perfectly depicts the city’s seedier side of dive bars and environmental issues, as well as the mountains and the mesas. There are drug cartels, women tied up in bathtubs, and death. There are regrets, mistakes, and vast amounts of physical and emotional pain. This novel is the story of fathers and sons and the way they can destroy each other. It’s brilliant and the best thing I’ve read all year. Read it if you can.
“When I sit in the cabin, you’re what I can’t see in the darkness through the window. You’re in everything I see and don’t see. Nobody gets to resolve that. We’re all everything we’ve lost. Just as my fuckups as a father came, in part, from losses before you. Nothing ends, nothing heals.
Not that I’d have it any other way.”
So here’s to everyone who may enjoy a novel that features a woman tied up in a bathtub, a man gnawing another man’s arm, and a matte black 1969 Dodge Charger. And dead people. Lots and lots of dead people. Cheers and happy reading!
So what do you do when you have a great book that may not appeal to a wide audience?
Any time you get a book with copious amounts of alcohol and illegal substances, food is hard to come by. The best I’ve got is “They have frozen pizzas in the back, too,” Patterson offers. “But you have to order a drink.” So pizza it is. While the subject matter of the book is everything is wrong with the world, this pizza…this pizza is everything that’s right. Spinach and bacon and cheese. Yum.