In an interview with Ezra Klein on his podcast, Barbara Kingsolver said she wanted to write “the great Appalachian novel.” She conceded, however, that the notion “probably sounds ridiculous.”
In particular, Kingsolver said she wanted to write about the fact that the people who live in Appalachia “are the most resourceful Americans you’re probably going to find anywhere.” Kingsolver, who was raised in rural Kentucky and now lives in rural Virginia, said she wanted to explore the shame she had internalized from her choice of a place to live.
“How many people well-meaning people have asked me, ‘how could I live there in the middle of nowhere?’” said Kingsolver. “People, this is my everywhere. This is my everything.”
Later in the chat: “Everybody looks down on the country people and the country people sort of absorb that. You can’t help but absorb it. So when I set out to write my great Appalachian novel. I was paralyzed with self-doubt because, I mean, my starting point was that I wanted to write about the opioid epidemic, which is become a huge assault on our culture, our families, our communities. It’s devastated so many of the good things about this region that we value and that we love. And so I wanted to write about these kids who’ve been damaged and this place that’s been damaged, and it seemed like a really hopelessly sad story. Plus, it’s about people that I didn’t feel the outer world cared about. And so I just really, I spent a couple of years walking around and around this story, trying to figure out how to break into that house because I really felt sure nobody wants to read it.”
Well, Kingsolver was wrong. At least, she was wrong about the interest in her topic—not her take on the people of Appalachia. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction and 85,000+ ratings on Amazon (4.6 stars).
There’s so much to like about Demon Copperhead but one of the main things is that it’s so breezily readable. For a 546-page epic, it goes down fast. It’s episodic, a la Dickens, but the character flow is organic, unforced. Demon’s voice is engaging and his struggles are real, particularly when it comes to the challenges of the foster care system and the brutality of OxyContin addictions. Kingsolver’s empathy for addicts comes pouring out of the story. She is non-judgmental, plays it straight.
Here is Demon, somewhat early on, looking back on the power of addiction: “I had roads to travel before I would know it’s not that simple, the dope versus the person you love. That a craving can ratchet itself up and up inside a body and a mind, at the same time that body’s strength for tolerating is favorite drug goes down and down. That the longer you’ve gone hurting between fixes, the higher the odds that you’ll reach too hard for the stars next time. That first big rush of relief could be your last. In the long run, that’s how I’ve come to picture Mom at the end: reaching as hard as her little body would stretch, trying to touch the blue sky, reaching for some peace.”
That’s as good a passage about the feeling of addiction, and a description of its power, that I’ve ever read. (Kingsolver also read that section on Klein’s podcast.)
Kingsolver is a deceiving writer. Her style is unassuming and keen-eyed. The text is full of specificity. And energy. If you have any doubts about tackling this book because it looks too heavy, squash those notions. Here’s the beginning of Chapter 34:
“A lot of firsts that school year. First scrimmage, first JV game, first tackle, first passing yards made. First school dance, with an eighth-grader girl that was dead serious about it. So, my first real date, evidently. Angus and Sax went together dressed as Planet of the Apes, loser of their grade contest (Sax) being the human on a leash. This is Homecoming mind you, not Halloween, so. Not a date. But Angus took mine over, ordered the corsage from Walmart, took me to Goodwill where we found this dope white suit from the sixties. In my size, unbelievable. I’ve grown into my hands and feet by this point, and I’m pushing 6 feet. Thank you, Mattie Kate.”
Mattie Kate is the housekeeper who worked for football Coach Wingate, where Demon lived while he was being developed as a potential football star. There are plenty of characters to keep track of, but Kingsolver gives them juicy nicknames (again, a la Dickens) or colorful descriptions so they are easy to track. U-Haul. Fast Forward. Waddles. Mouse. If you know David Copperfield (it’s been decades since I read it) you’ll have a great time with what Kingsolver did with her names. For instance, Uriah Heep becomes Ryan Pyles.
The “resourcefulness” of Demon is apparent in his stubborn ability to survive. He’s smarter than he acknowledges, and very observant. In Demon Copperhead, bad things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people, too. Many around Demon are not so fortunate and literally or metaphorically drown. You can’t help but think about the failure of our institutions around child welfare, the foster care system, adult welfare, and drug abuse. But Demon finds his talent, develops a passion, and puts it to use. Hello, the power of art. And love. Every great novel, and this is one, is a love story in the end.
Demon Copperfield was written with passion for Kingsolver’s very personal reasons. The execution is a thing of beauty—and something we can all admire.
Demon Copperhead: A Novel
4.6 | 123,686 ratings
Price: 35.43
Last update: 01-11-2025
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