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336 pages, Hardcover
First published June 30, 2020
“You ever get the feeling,” she said…”that somebody else already did all this shit? That we’re, like, just watching it happen?”--------------------------------------
Short, thin, with narrow shoulders. The head just a little too big for that slight body, skull-like, all forehead and cheekbones, narrow as a trowel at the mouth.First, let’s get something clear straight away. While there is a sci-fi-ish element extant in Nine Shiny Objects, this is not really a sci-fi novel. We never really get more sci-fi than a newspaper account of Kenneth Arnold’s seminal saucer sighting. The only actual extra-normal element is a bit of fantasy in the final chapter, and a bit of dream work. The novel is a linked-stories narrative of historical fiction. Just so’s ya know.
If she had a choice, if she’d learned anything tonight, she would never speak to any of them again. But she knew, here, too, that this wasn’t how things would work out. She would find a way to call Stacy, and later find a way to ask Wolfboy’s forgiveness. And inside she would hate them both a little for knowing her too long, for not letting her change, not letting her find out who she really was. What she was, what she wanted to be, or what she wanted others to see in her was that song “Pretty Vacant” by the Sex Pistols, just emptied out and gone, as if someone better than Ted or Chris or anyone ever asked her, that’s what she would say and if they laughed, she would beat them to the ground like she had Wolfboy. Or she wouldn’t. Of course she wouldn’t.1982, Debbie Vasquez is playing Ms. Pac-Man at the Crazy-Eight Arcade in Waterbury, CT. Her friend Nathan, aka Wolfboy, invites her to a party being held by Brain-Dead Ted. (She’d rather dig her eyeballs out with sporks.) But Nathan’s brother’s band will be playing at the party and she’s got it bad for them. Her father is/was a rock star, so music permeates, but he was not much of a father. She’s got issues, which manifest in her being tough-as-nails. She has very push-pull relationships with her friends. Debbie lives with her mother, and has not yet found her dream, but grows a piece over a tough night of experiencing and remembering.
I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. In the late ’80s a mall was built in the next town over, and at its center — as far as I was concerned — was this dark arcade where I would occasionally run into people I knew from school or others of my age from nearby towns. I feel like in my pre-teen imagination the place was a kind of salon for dorks like me. Of course, I’d only have 15 or 20 minutes to roam around wasting quarters while my mom was looking at shoes or something. But it’s buried deep in there, and through that memory I discovered the character of Debbie, who is much cooler than I ever was, and much tougher. - from the Bookweb interviewIn 1987, Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan were talking treaty, the former trying to hold the wolves at bay over his Perestroika and Glasnost policies, the latter contending with his Robert Bork failure and Iran-Contra scandal. Jack Penrod has troubles of his own.
Originally, he’d pictured retiring at fifty-nine to be filled with travel and projects around the house. Instead he’d spent most of his time puttering from room to room and getting on his wife’s nerves. She wasn’t used to him being around all day…what he really wanted to tell her he couldn’t put together in words. Something about how he missed her so desperately, how it seemed anymore they were strangers passing on a sidewalk, how he’d started to itch with this feeling that he’d wasted all his life doing next to nothing.His dead brother keeps appearing to him, alive as you or me. He is not, sadly, visible to Jack’s long-suffering wife, who had thought her husband was done with this delusion years before. It seems Jack’s brother has a mission, a twelve-step-like need to make at least some amends. The late brother had not led the most exemplary life, although he did hold the family together after their parents left, when the brothers were teens. There was a particular apology he needed Jack to give for him. Road Trip! Jack speaks of the past with the partner of the apology recipient.
As she spoke about it all, he began to see it in his mind, and as it formed, he felt a warm glow at the base of his neck. Here was a dream, yes, and the two of them, connected to it only by hearsay, frolicked in its possibilities. A town was more like a family, spreading out in all directions, changing its neighboring towns like falling dominoes. The vision of this better place seemed so easy to make true, and he had to stop himself from reaching out and taking her hand in his. To his surprise they had already become friends.There are two seminal events from which the rest emanate like shock-waves from a blast, the UFO sighting in 1947 and a Tulsa-like pogrom years later. They serve to tie the tales together, giving the hum of historical background sound a structure. Cults come in for a bi-polar look. The Seekers of the 1940s may have had some nutty canon, but they were a benign, hopeful group, forward-looking, cheerful, friendly, warm. A very different sort of cult forms around a rock star, based on hedonism and nihilism. That musician is another character who gets minimum direct screen time, but whose influence permeates the stories.
The image I kept in my head as I wrote and revised was of a painting with a foreground and background. In the foreground are these characters in each of their stories, but looming behind them is this shared background…this structure allowed me to create a sense of characters flowing through history, absorbed in their personal lives even though we (readers, I mean) can see and understand that history, those bigger shifts happening around and to them. - from the Vol. 1 Brooklyn interviewCastleberry has given his characters range, even if we only see them for a ninth of the book, and a smattering beyond. They question their lives, their futures, and their pasts. There is, however, a character who appears in person or by reference in most of the stories, Zelig-like, whose goal seems to be to make the most misery for the most people, to pour buckets of cold water on the fires of passion, to spark fires where the potential exists to cause a conflagration, to lie, deceive, and worse, much worse. He embodies the antithesis of hope, the line you may not cross. Castleberry gives him a human form, and banality to boot, although I wondered in reading if he may have hopped off one of those 1947 saucers, if it had come from a hostile civilization.
He looked up into the deep vastness above, hoping for a shooting star to arc earthward, something he could take home as a sign. But there was only the chill in the air and the big country around him, floating loose, unmoored, starved for meaning.