Dorothy Allison (1) (1949–2024)

Impressive, depressive, ultimately unsatisfying. This is the story of a young girl’s coming-of-age in a family of “white trash” in which most of the men have been in jail at least once, and most of the women have been victimized by men in one way or another. I grew up with Northeastern PA/NY mountain versions of the Boatwrights. Some of them were just as crazy-mean-ignorant-lawless as many of Allison's characters, but a lot of them were likeable when they weren't being mean, and many show more of them were just plain decent folks. I liked a couple of the aunts in this book, but could not drum up any sympathy for the narrator, or her mother, another main character. I thought at first it was because I couldn't understand their motivations, but it's more than that. Although I believe this novel is at least semi-autobiographical, and was probably therapeutic for the author to write, the first person narrative is oddly detached and unemotional. There is neither joy nor hope, anguish or despair---just resignation to a lifestyle that ultimately denies the humanity of all its participants. I am also disturbed by any story line that moves the reader to root for a violent outcome; despite the main character’s apparent lack of outrage at her abuser, I found myself wishing somebody would KILL the S.O.B. No good can come of that feeling. Ultimately, I found the mother’s behavior unbelievable, not because I don’t accept that there are women so evil, so desperate or so helpless that they can allow horrible things to happen to their children, but because I did not understand how this particular woman could tolerate the circumstances of her daughter’s life when it was in her power to change some of them. show less

Dorothy Allison’s Bastard Out of Carolina is my current new favorite book, and I don’t say that lightly. On Goodreads, I have a “my favorites” list, but I rarely add books to it. Last year I read 48 books and added 2 to the “my favorites” list, so this is big, guys.

Bastard Out of Carolina is the story of Bone, an illegitimate (I hate that term) Southern girl who wants nothing more than for her mother’s allegiance to lie with her, rather than with Bone’s abusive stepfather. show more From the time she is a small child, Daddy Glen abuses her in every way possible — emotionally, verbally, physically, and sexually. Rather than divorcing Daddy Glen, Bone’s mother foists her daughter off on various aunts to keep her out of the house and out of harm’s way, leaving Bone feeling abandoned, punished, and angry. But Daddy Glen’s abuse continues to escalate throughout the novel, leading to a harrowing ending.

To me, characters are the most important aspect of a novel, and Bone was definitely in my Top 10. She was so honest, and so complex and hurt and strong. I love emotional books, especially ones where you are really rooting for a character who is struggling within herself. Because not only did Bone feel anger toward her mother and stepfather, she also had internal struggles: feeling as though she was “bad,” poor, trash, etc. and didn’t fit within either her immediate or extended family.

I also really appreciate a strong female “cast” in novels, and this book had just that. These women were very real — they struggled with families, illness, poverty. I especially liked Bone’s aunt Raylene, a lesbian who formed a foil for her straight (and often men-dependent) sisters. She was strong and cared for Bone when Bone’s mother could not.

I was captivated by this novel. It wasn’t particularly fast-paced, but it felt as though it was, because Bone’s internal conflict was ever-changing and intense. The last thirty pages were so incredibly heartrending I could hardly put the novel down, even after I had finished it. It was one of those books that I wanted to lament and exclaim and gush over with other people (and I proceeded to highly recommend it to several friends). show less

there is so much more to this than i remember. the really awful abuse scene doesn't happen until near the very end, which means the rest is, like, 'i can probably live with this' abuse, and makes mama's love for bone more easy to believe. i remember carrying distrust for mama so was surprised when for most of the book she behaves pretty supportively, and i could believe she never knew the abuse was happening, or that it hadn't stopped, or that it had gotten as bad as it did. which is just a show more statement about me and her and about how we slowly accept things worsening without putting up a fight, like that frog in the proverbial pot of increasingly hot water. because if i was reading this for the first time i never would have thought that mama would have left bone after seeing what glen did to her. but really, she hadn't done nearly enough until then, so i should have seen it coming.

what a story about this family, that people consider to be poor white trash, but that (mostly) stand up in community for each other, support (mostly) each other through everything terrible that happens to them, whether the situations are their fault or not.

"Mama smiled, joked, slapped ass, and firmly passed back anything that looked like a down payment on something she didn't want to sell."

and i think the quote the entire book is built upon, the question this book was written to answer, or leave unanswered, depending on how you read it: "Could she love me and still hold him like that?" (4.5 stars)

from sept 2015:

this book is breathtaking. in the breadth and depth of the story and content as well as the writing. i wish i wasn't rushed to finish it because i want to read this one slowly; it deserves to be read slowly. it is so full of emotion (mostly pain, but some hope) that it should be read and sat with, and i didn't really get to do that. but i so appreciate what she has done here - shining a light on abuse and violence in a way that was so important when this was written. she shows such a personal story of living with violence, but also how the community supports and fails the people in it. how inescapable certain things seem - and maybe are - but also the potential people have.

i don't know what i want to say. this book is powerful and beautiful in all the ugliness and so hard and necessary to read. there are only (can i say that?) a few parts that were brutal (although in my memory of it, the entire book was this way, so they are awfully tough and they are memorable) to read, but oh there is so much heartbreak here. as a reader invested in the characters you want so badly for certain things to happen, but as a reader who wants the truth you know that it can't turn out that way. and it wrecks you.

"Mama smiled, joked, slapped ass, and firmly passed back anything that looked like a down payment on something she didn't want to sell."

"Moving gave me a sense of time passing and everything sliding, as if nothing could be held on to anyway. It made me feel ghostly, unreal and unimportant, like a box that goes missing and then turns up but you realize you never needed anything in it anyway."

"'They want you, oh yes, they want you. Till they get you. An't nothing in this world more useless than a hardworking religious fool. It an't that you get religion. Religion gets you and then milks you dry. Won't let you drink a little whiskey. Won't let you make no fat-assed girls grin and giggle. Won't let you do a damn thing except work for what you'll get in the hereafter. I live in the here and now, and I need my sleep on a Sunday morning. But I'll tell you, Bone, I like it that they want me, Catholics and Baptists and Church of Gods and Methodists and Seventh-Day Adventists, all of them hungry for my dirty white hide, my pitiful human soul. Hell! None of them would give two drops of piss for me if I was already part of their saggy-assed congregations.'" (5 stars) show less

It was suggested that I read this for a Philosophies of Nonviolence class I'm taking at the moment. Part of me is pretty upset it took me 20 years to get around for this masterpiece - the other part realizes now is the time, as things tend to be.

Where do I start? The writing, wow the writing. Part of me wonders if I should ever pick up a pen again. Achingly beautiful in all the terrible, incredible ways that humanity IS. I understand, too, why this book has been banned in so many places - show more the truth hurts, indeed it does - but it needs to be heard. This is not an easy read. It's not beach reading. It's the kind of book you need to set aside for when you have a place of comfort to retreat to. You'll need to put it down and pick it back up again. You'll need to stop and write. And maybe go for a very, very long walk in between chapters.

I know the Boatwrights. I understand them.

Her website opens with these words:

Understand me.
What I am here for is to tell you stories that you may not want to hear.
What I am here for is to rescue my dead.
And to scare hell out of you now and then.
I was raised Baptist, I know how to do that.

I was raised Baptist, too. Everything, everything, everything about this book.

Also - the afterword? It's an entire class on fiction. Yes it is. show less