Assumption

The first thing you need to know is that I am a sucker for that particular kind of good writing that doesn't draw attention to how good it is. Which is to say that I am a fan of Percival Everett's writing, which is not only exactly this kind of writing, but is also humane and compassionate in its characterizations. Each character is presented with such compassion that they feel complex and real. Which is to say that before I even opened Assumption, I was all in.

Assumption follows Ogden Walker, deputy sheriff in a largely empty rural county in the mountains of New Mexico. He loves fly fishing, visits his mother a lot and doesn't really like his job, but it does allow him to live where he wants to live. When an elderly woman is murdered show more moments after Ogden last spoke to her, it seems he'll have to do some real police work, as the case turns increasingly violent.

Assumption reads as though it's a standard noir-style crime novel. It's gritty and violent, but Ogden himself is a steady, if not particularly enthusiastic, lawman who treats the people he encounters with respect. As I read, I fell into reading it as something it only appeared to be on the surface. While Everett here demonstrates that he can write a perfect genre novel, that isn't what he's doing and, eventually, he tips his hand and upends his entire narrative. We're all familiar with an unreliable narrator, but this takes it further. I'm not sure yet what to make of what Everett does here. I plan to give it all time to settle and then reread the novel, in view of what I now know. show less

Percival Everett is playing with our assumptions about the rules of narrative and genre, as usual. This looks like a fairly ordinary noir detective story, following the work of a sheriff's deputy in a small town in New Mexico as he investigates a series of difficult cases, but we gradually start to realise that all is not as it seems. Facts refuse to mesh together into neat, logical structures, characters refuse to settle down to being good guys or bad guys, and it is all intriguingly disturbing. Perhaps the decor of the American South-West is a bit too much like what we expect it to be, but there's plenty in the complex characterisation and in Everett's dry, throw-away lines to keep us amused as our faith in the unchanging certainties show more of crime-fiction is demolished, brick by brick. show less

Ogden Walker is a deputy sheriff in New Mexico. He isn’t a detective but he is often involved in the process of investigating crimes, and here, that usually means murder. We see Ogden in a number of largely unsatisfactory investigations over the course of a few year. Unsatisfactory in that they rarely lead to closure for him or for us. His last case is especially unsatisfactory in that it looks like we don’t seem to know Ogden at all despite all this time we’ve spent with him. Perhaps we are having our assumptions disabused as the title might suggest. But given that this is a Percival Everett novel, there is almost certainly something else going on.

Everett’s writing is never less than compelling. No matter which genre he turns show more his hand to, he both captures its essence and finds something new. I enjoyed following Ogden’s quixotic investigations. There was something sad and wistful about him and his colleague Warren. So perhaps I was especially ripe for having the rug pulled from under my feet in that final section. It’s hard to know what to make of that.

Always worthy of recommendation, but be warned, there is a sting in the tail. show less

Ogden Walker is a deputy sheriff in Plata, the small desert community in New Mexico where he grew up. He’s on the likable side of stoic, and stumbles through his job as best he can with the promise of fly fishing on the weekends. But there’s trouble in Plata, in the form of three crimes, possible interconnected, that spiral rapidly out of control toward the novel’s startling conclusion.
Everett has a wonderfully terse style: he says as much by omission as he does with his brisk prose. This is a fine piece of writing for fans of both literary fiction and police procedurals, and you’ll be desperate to talk about it once it has revealed its secrets.

Low-level despair seems to be Ogden Walker’s default emotion. He’s a reluctant deputy in rural New Mexico, in beautiful and forsaken country. As the product of a now-deceased black father who moved to the area because there were fewer white people, and a white mother – to whom he’s still close – Ogden has a touchy relationship with the local residents.

He’s also not convinced this is the job, or life, for him: “I find pot growers and throw sticks for my dog. I don’t know much about movies. I just found out about Craigslist this morning.” Despite that, Ogden, Deputy Warren Fragua, and the sheriff, Bucky Paz, make a good and intuitive team. One of them often shows up when they’re needed most. Fly fishing and tying are show more Ogden’s only forms of pleasure.

When murders starting occurring Ogden stirs from his existential funk. “Nothing makes people more interesting than their being dead. Sad, but true.” The pace picks up and never flags. Things aren’t what they seem and the story doesn’t conform to convention. That’s part of what makes it so good, and readable. show less

Assumption is a one wild ride of a literary thriller/mystery novel. That last page is a real stunner! No spoilers here. Let's just say that the ending is truly shocking.

Comprised essentially of three novellas within one novel, Assumption follows follows Ogden Walker, a deputy sheriff, and misfit, fly fishing loner, through three criminal cases that emerge in a small town in New Mexico. In the first, a trigger-happy old woman is found murdered shortly after Ogden confiscates her gun. The situation at the outset feels sort of like a reverse “locked room” mystery, as the blanket of snow around the woman’s residence reveals only one set of footprints—Ogden’s—while she appears to have vanished into thin air. Later, she’s found show more dead beneath a trapdoor in her floor.

In the next story, a woman shows up who says she’s from Ireland and trying to track down a female cousin in the area. Ogden is tasked with helping her find this “missing” relation. In the course of asking around, the two of them stumble across a fatally wounded woman, an event which eventually sets Ogden on the trail of a one-handed man who he suspects of killing prostitutes.

The last story involves investigating some meth heads and leads to some shocking revelations.

The ending plays with your assumptions. Everett carefully plants the seeds, the clues, among the seeming conventions (you might call them cliches) of his detective novel. Pay attention to Ogden Walker as you read this novel. Sure he is a loner. But do other things seem off? Ultimately, readers come to suspect that perhaps Ogden doesn’t know himself and that neither do those with whom he works and lives.

This was a masterfully written detective novel written in a manner that reminded me of a cross between Flannery O'Connor, Elmore Leonard, and James M. Cain. The prose is dry and often witty and there are clues scattered throughout. Everett summons his New Mexico Noir environment in spare, dry prose that harks back to hard-boiled predecessors like James M. Cain. Not many writers can lay claim to be considered on par with such writing legends.

I'm eager to re-read this book again, so I can follow the clues and spot all the things that didn't add up. show less

A sheriff's deputy investigates a series of crimes in a small desert town that disrupt his little remaining faith in humanity in three loosely connected stories.

Here is a book that kept me thinking -- almost obsessing -- about it long after I had closed the covers. The title is Assumption, and in these stories, the characters' assumptions keep getting proved wrong, leading the reader to finally question his/her own assumptions.

The main character, Deputy Sheriff Ogden Walker, is a bit inept at his job and feels lonely and disconnected as the only black man in a tiny town in the New Mexico desert. The novel provides a terrific sense of character; we too know that there's something wrong in Walker's life, but like Walker, we can't quite show more put our finger on the trouble as we bumble along with him through his cases. The desert setting, used to great effect, amplifies Walker's sense of isolation and disconnect. And then the author pulls the rug out from under us.

It's a clever novel, something new and different for crime readers, and definitely a candidate for a future reread. show less