Reed's Promise by John Clarkson
When I started this book, I did not expect it to make my favorites list. I thought there was a pretty good chance I wouldn't even like it. I didn't check it out because of it's plot or the author or because it seemed interesting. I checked it out because it's on a shelf in front of one of my favorite spots to sit at my local library. My name is Reed, and this was called Reed's Promise, so after 3 or 4 weeks of it staring at me, I grabbed it.
So it's about Bill Reed (who is generally referred to as Reed, not as Bill), who, on the first page of the book, gets into a really bad motorcycle wreck. He loses one of his legs & it takes some time for him to recover.
His employee Irwin Barker finds him at his usual spot in the park - where he sits by a pond and gets drunk after he's finished his morning workouts. Irwin got a letter from John Boyd Reed - Bill's "retarded" cousin. The letter is cryptic, as his cousin has Down Syndrome and was trying to communicate something but did it with imagery rather than words.
So (Bill) Reed sets off on a quest to find out what's going on with his cousin, whom he hasn't seen for about 4 years. Johnny Boy's dad died a few years back, and he has no other family except Reed.
I don't want to spoil the plot, but we learn pretty early on that the institute where Johnny Boy is kept is ... very concerning. We learn this more quickly than Reed does.
So the book is basically about Reed trying to take care of his cousin when faced with an institution that wants to keep him out, in a small town that doesn't want him around.
This book reminded me of One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest - a book I read in high school but do not remember well. I didn't like Cuckoos Nest. I remember it being dark and depressing. THIS book is not just a depressing tale of people's time in the institution.
This book is a fairly easy read. None of the language is too complex, the story isn't hard to follow, the characters are not hard to keep track of. I like that the scenes are generally described with some detail and clarity, but also fairly simply. I've struggled with some other books that are too elaborate in their descriptions and vocabulary, and it can make it hard to picture things. That was no issue with this book.
But I think what really drives this book home for me is its attention to very human details. Here's one such passage:
Reed had been sitting for most of three hours, having stopped twice for gas. Now, suddenly upright, he felt the blood rushing into his stump. He grabbed the stump with his left hand, lifting at the hip, trying to keep the stump level, but it was too late. Phantom pain hit him, feeling as if someone had lashed his nonexistent left shin with barbed wire. He hissed and winced, pulling his stump higher, holding it up, trying to stop more blood from rushing into it. He sat back down in the drivers' seat, waiting for the weird pain in a non-existent part of his body to subside. He yearned to rub the shin that no longer existed. Instead he rubbed and massaged his stump. After about three minutes, as the circulation slowly returned to his stump, the pain ebbed away. Only then could he get upright on his crutches and retrieve his wheelchair and bag out of the trunk. Reed went through the routine of assembling the chair and gathering his belongings, intent on finishing before anyone else pulled into the parking lot.
I just really enjoyed this style. I connected with it. I understood it.
Now, the book isn't perfect by any means. It was published in 2001, and I'm not really sure what the culture around the word "retarded" was at that time, but I understand it to be insensitive today. It wasn't generally used in the book as anything negative - just the word that you used to describe such people.
It also did something that most books I've read by white people do (actually I'm just assuming John Clarkson is white. I don't know) - characters seem to be default white, and when a character is not white, the description is more race-based than visual. Reading books by black women taught me that there is really so much more to a person's appearance than being "Black" or "Mexican" or what have you. Like, duh. But I hadn't realized before how nice it is when a book actually describes someone's skin tone - something authors should do for white people too, because we also come in different shades and tones.
The book seems to take a good human position though. Nobody is painted as being lesser by the tone of the book. The BAD characters of course think the "retards" are barely human. But the book seems to view the patients at the institute - and Bill Reed, the cripple - as people deserving of care and wellbeing.
This author also describes people's body sizes, which I find a little ... I don't know. It sets a visual scene, and it doesn't seem to be judgemental or cruel, but it might skirt the line a little.
And there's a curious thing with the narration. The people at the institute call John Boyd Reed "Johnny Boy" and John Boyd does not like it. This is established early on. Reed does not use this nickname, and challenges the people who refer to him as "Johnny Boy". But also the narration generally refers to him as "Johnny Boy".
It's interesting, and I'm curious if the author intends some deeper meaning or reflection to this point, or if it's just ... a decision that had to be made, and it just landed the way it did.
There's also some romancing that I'm a bit critical of. But, ah well I'm done. I do love this book. It's not my favorite favorite by any means. But it is a favorite. My favorite favorites are all N.K. Jemisin books I love her go read her. (Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse is also close to the top)