Claire Vaye Watkins

The grit in [Battleborn] is born of barren desert sand. The brutality stinks like the stale musk in the sealed up Vegas casinos, two days of body odor and three packs of cigarettes. To protect against the searing sun and the flashing neon, you must narrow the eyes in consuming these stories. But consume them you must – devour or be devoured is the pledge of Clair Vaye Watkins.

Hemingway said that a writer has to endeavor to just write one true thing each day. For some, that truth is show more dangerous, and Watkins falls into this category. All the stories here are sore and bruised affairs, bloody, either in the flesh or in the spirit. But they all ring of Heingway’s truth. The truth that must be midwifed in fiction, because reality is too stark, too close. The lost man, writing to another man whom he doesn’t know beyond the leavings of a car wreck on a deserted highway, finding the loneliness in his own life measures up better than that he imagines in the other’s. The young girl who contributes to the rape of her friend, finding release in the pain of another. A young man’s obsession with a whore that distracts him from the death of his friend. And the violence in an old west gold rush camp where a man fights to save his brother, learning that his own redemption will come at a cost.

Not every story in Watkins’ collection bleeds so openly like those. The book leads with a creative fiction riff on her father’s connection to Charles Manson, and it reads a little too close to promotion than the others, like an attempt to get the reader’s attention so they settle back and listen to her other work. A couple stories that focus on friends and lovers and wives and husbands feel much colder than the sizzle of the others. But on the whole, Watkins is a voice to be reckoned with. Read her, if you will, but hang on for dear life.

Bottom Line: Vivid and brutal, a force to be reckoned with.

4 ½ bones!!!!! show less

Southern California has been rendered a wasteland by a constantly moving dune sea known as the Amargosa. Ray and Luz are some of the few hold outs, refusing to be evacuated to the work camps that refugees are sent to. Depending on each other, they carve out a life needing and being needed and this is enough for them. But when they rescue/kidnap a young girl named Ig from the abusive group of adults she is with, Ray and Luz realise they must try to get Ig out, to find a way to get to the lush show more lands denied them. This involves traversing the Amargosa and facing down its mysteries and madness.
Apart from making you consider the environmental damage being caused by mankind, the novel makes you consider the gullibility of the desperate, the corruptive nature of power, and the force of the survival instinct. It is compelling and thought-provoking as it asks the what ifs of our future. This is a beautifully written novel comprised of deeply evocative language, interesting characters and a chilling premise. I would recommend it to both individuals and reading groups as there is plenty to discuss here. show less

This book was pulling me to it as soon as I read that glorious title. Best title of all time? Claire Vaye Watkins is a boss. I knew I would love this book. It must take some guts to write auto-fiction -- autobiographical fiction! Watkins puts it all on the page. A few short chapters on postpartum depression swings into the backstory of her family to show how a Claire exists, what resulted in creating a Claire -- her dad just happened to be in a cult -- Manson's. (There is actually a real show more book describing that time, written by her dad Paul Watkins.) Not just a cult, but all the little things that make up a history and a life. I think the cult aspect just anchors some truth and keeps you guessing what else is real. I know this is "fiction" but there are so many parallels to the life of the writer that it is hard to separate fact from fiction. (And I had a lot of fun listening to author events with Watkins on Youtube to find out what was real. The tattoo that names the book on one of Claire's old boyfriends? REAL.) But no matter what the truth might be, the sentences are a treasure. There is a cynicism that is usually just my jam... suppose the darkness chose Watkins? Wherever the darkness is involved, I love this book. Just the way Watkins crafts sentences, with the darkness, if I may, laced with humor, the casual dropping of facts, I will read and probably admire whatever Watkins happens to write. It's a mood. Also, I think I just really love a flailing female character and even if this were not supposed to be an autofictional main character, to hold added interest in guessing what was true and what was not, I think I would have loved this book. I wonder if Watkins herself would find this book fitting this lovely list? I do. https://www.goodreads.com/list/show/153374.She_s_Not_Feeling_Good_at_All_Catastr... I think this is the sort of book where there are bonus points involved if you are anywhere close to the age of the writer. She was born in 1984. (Oregon Trail gen!) ALSO, Rilo Kiley lyrics by page eight?!?! This is indeed a book for me. I would set this on the shelf beside:
'Look How Happy I'm Making You' by Polly Rosenwaike
a couple of books by Miriam Toews
'The New Wilderness' by Diane Cook show less

This is so filled with self-loathing that I expected to end up feeling more sympathy for Claire (her name in the book is her own name) than I did. Objectively she is a sympathetic character. Claire was raised by mentally ill unprincipled addicted parents whom she loved, and both of whom died both too early and well after they ought to have done. In the wake of chaos she created a self utterly unconnected to everything in her past. Then she broke, and she broke the people she should have show more loved and protected. Then she returned to her self -- ashes to ashes, dust to dust, middle of nowhere crazy hippie life to middle of nowhere crazy hippie life, and at some point from brokenness to some form of wholeness. She knits together a dismal disturbing past and a conventional present, the particulars of which are defined by others. This book definitely subscribes to the theory that depression springs not from chemistry but from living a life at odds with what drives us. And so she found her center, but at what cost? Though many a man has left his family to find himself, to find a greater truth, starting with Odysseus, I expect more from women. There, I said it. That might be anti-feminist, but I don't think so. I don't want feminism that encourages woman to sink down into the narcissistic suck of white American manhood. That does not move us foreword.

I always have difficulty with autofiction, not knowing what is real and what is fantasy. But here it worked. For me autofiction done best uses fiction to get to truths a straight recitation of fact would not reveal, and I think Watkins did that. She is a wonderful writer, and she tells a story (her story?) that touches on larger truths. I think Watkins achieves that "larger truths" goal here in part simply by using autofiction. I know that sounds confusing, but the way I see it the major point of this tale is that you need not make choices. You live in tune with your inner voice and exclude nothing. You can be a partner and a slut (I use that term in a non-pejorative sense), a mother and a self-involved loner, an artist and an academic, a narcististic shitheel and a generous friend. So if the larger truth is that one need not make choices, that one action does not in anyway predestine the next, the use of autofiction - not choosing between fiction and non - highlights that. It truly serves the point of the book.

I enjoyed the read, The writing itself is beautiful, the story compelling (if also off-putting) and often quite amusing, and there is a real sense the author accomplished exactly what she set out to do. That is a lot. But boy do I feel sorry for her ex-husband and daughter (FWIW I think she does too.) If you need a main character you are going to end up liking I suspect you should steer clear. This one will never understand that her version of love only feels good to her and completely disregards the needs of the poor people she purports to love, and therefore isn't love at all. show less