It was the ghosts, folks. It was the ghosts that made me do it. They made me change my mind and go with 2 stars instead of my original 3. It’s just that they were such a big part of this book. If they had been smaller and kept their mouths shut, I would be handing you 3 stars. I wanted to be closer in stars to my gushing friends, but that just didn’t happen. I didn’t like this book, period. And of course, I have a Complaint Board to prove it.
I did like a few things about the book, so let me start with the Joy Jar:
Mesmerizing language. For a while, it took me to a cool place and created a strong mood.
Intense family. I was interested in the family. It’s biracial, with a junkie mom, nice kids, kind grandparents, and a dad who just got out of prison. They are poor and they live in the deep South.
He said, she said. I liked the format of having two narrators who alternated chapters.
Jojo was a nice kid. One of the main characters, a 12-year-old boy named Jojo, was super well-drawn and sympathetic.
An intense car ride, punctuated by a lot of puke. (Yes, seldom do you see the word “puke” in the Joy Jar.) There was a harrowing road trip, which had me twitching with interest and fear. Nearly half the book took place in a claustrophobic car full of sweat, vomit, and tension. Inside were two poor kids and three drug-addicted adults.
But my Complaint Board is way fuller. Here goes:
Sure, I’ve always wanted to hear the gory details of a goat being slaughtered. The very first scene, POW, a grandpa is showing his grandson how to kill and gut a goat. Seriously. I had to skip pages, it was so graphic. The boy then carried goat parts into the house where these parts would be cooked and served for din din. This scene threw me for a loop and I became very wary of what I was signing up for. I will say that that was the only slaughter scene, but still…what a way to start a book! I know the author was going for authenticity—yes, they are ruggedly poor people who eat goat—but I do think the story would have been just fine without this scene.
Get real. They would if they could, but ghosts just can’t get real. Okay, I try to like ghosts (and occasionally I can), but here they chased me right out of town. I just can’t shut up about these annoying ghosts, can I? They are major characters here and I just wanted to shove them out of the book. They took up a lot of space. There were two of them (one for each main character) sitting in the back seat of a car or just walking around outside--in general getting in the way of the real people. And of course, there were entire conversations that took place between the ghosts and the main characters. To make matters worse, the ghosts sometimes had their own chapters! “Oh no!,” I yelled, as I saw the ghost’s name head the chapter. I wanted to get back to the real story. Real people. (Never mind that they are characters, lol, not real people.) Hm....if it had been a ghost who slaughtered the goat, would I have been less upset? Lol, you have to wonder.
I like the scenery, but can we talk? This is where the language did a little overkill in the mesmerizing department. Rich language often turns into work for me when a lot of it is used to describe scenery. I prefer dialogue, internal monologue, and drama.
Character clichés. Except for Jojo, the characters just seemed to be stereotypes: the junkie mom, the kind granddad. I didn’t feel any attachment.
A little woo-woo makes me weary. Besides the ghosts, which were bad enough, there were magic herbs and an overall woo-woo feel. Let me out of here.
Where did these big words that begin with “i” come from? Here we are in the rural south with little education, and occasionally big words--SAT vocabulary words with 4 or 5 syllables—come out of the characters’ mouths. Twelve-year-old Jojo, his junkie mom, and even a ghost uttered one of these three words: inexorably, indomitable, immolating. What? I don’t even use these words. In fact, I had to look them up! And there were several other sophisticated words and sentence structures. An editor should have been checking the authenticity of voice better.
Drama in the car. Quite a tense car ride (and except for the ghost squeezed below the seats, I liked it). I don’t want to give anything away, but based on the tone and content of the story, I thought things were going in a different direction than they did. In a way, this seemed anti-climactic. (Hand covering mouth so I don’t reveal anything.)
The name game. Again, an editorial nit. The mom always called her toddler by Michaela; her twelve-year-old son called her Kayla. Toward the end, mom was suddenly using Kayla instead. This seemed like something the editor missed.
Crawling along. I found it slow going for most of the read. Looking at page numbers is always a bad sign.
As I said earlier, this is a book I desperately wanted to love, if for no other reason than to be part of the crowd. I do think the writing is brilliant; it’s just not my cup of tea. I liked Ward’s earlier award-winning book, Salvage the Bones, better, though it still only earned 3 stars from me. I’m pretty sure I won’t try Ward’s next one.
Thanks to NetGalley for the advance copy.