Phil LaMarche’s debut novel could initially be mistaken for a Bildungsroman, a novel about a young boy’s growth into maturity. But our protagonist, known only as “the boy”, never reaches maturity. He remains suspended amid the social detritus of Middle America – firearms, intolerance, puritanical values – and extremely vulnerable.
Unlike Holden Caulfield from The Catcher in the Rye, this boy is not repelled by the “phoniness” or barbarism he sees in the world around him. But then, following a firearms incident at his home, he draws the attention of a sinister gang, dubbed American Youth.
The gang members are practised liberal-baiters, tearing up condos, “finking on folk who booze”, and protesting against protests. “Kill a Commie for Mommy” is one of their slogans. Yet the boy struggles to hold on to a notion of right and wrong, which is understandably difficult, as he inhabits a place where guns, ammo and hunting accessories are the familial glue.
LaMarche’s sensitive characterisation renders the boy frustratingly real at times, especially in his inability to take heed of good advice, and the novel is rich with social commentary.
But the author’s light touch is lost on the American Youth. All that whooping and high-fiving? Simply no need.
