Arkansas

There are the days: the dappled grounds, the aimless yard work, the hours in the booth giving directions to families in SUVs. And then there are the nights, crisscrossing the South with illicit goods, the shifty deals in dingy trailers, the vague orders from a boss they've never met. Sooner than Kyle and Swin can recognize how close to paradise they are, in this neglected state park in southern Arkansas, the lazy peace is shattered with a shot. Night blends into day. Dead bodies. Crooked superiors. Suspicious associates. It's on-the-job training, with no time for slow learning, bad judgment, or foul luck.


Over the last few years in crime fiction stories, regardless of medium, there has been a trend that has tended towards protagonists/antagonists that aren't at the top of the organization but instead are of the middle-management variety. The position of these characters has illustrated wonderfully the bureaucratic morass of large organizations, and the Willy Loman-esque delusions as they grind away the day taking shit from higher levels that often go unseen. Except where as Loman kept going until the bitter end, unable to escape his rut, the careers of these mid-level men will most likely end abruptly and in death. Arkansas is an interesting, and well written, addition to this trend, without being beholden to it.


One of the more interesting things that Arkansas does is set up an interesting dichotomy in the two leads, Kyle and Swin. One of them brings street smarts to the table and the other brings book smarts. The totally different skill sets that they represent, and how their paths even came to cross, make for an interesting partnership. At different times the application of these two skill sets (sometimes together sometimes apart) ends up being the nucleus in this relationship.


Johanna is a fascinating character that never even for one second casts an eye towards the too many cliches that female characters in crime fiction are often relegated to, in this case the criminal's old lady. She is idiosyncratic and a little maddening. Incorporating some parts of both Kyle and Swin's influence she sometimes makes decisions based on her head and at other times her gut. She is tough and vulnerable without either one being exaggerated.


Froggy's sections are interesting because they are presented in the second person perspective. His character is basically invisible to the other characters, a name only, boogey man that operates his network through underlings to maintain buffer zones and the distance of the second person "you" affords the reader the same level of distance as Swin and Kyle. In other novels we have seen the interspersing of third and first person perspectives as a means to drive up the tension but the effect here is different since he could literally be anyone. The reveal of who he is is handled well and it snaps his sections into clearer focus.

There is a great moment, stylistically speaking, near the end where the second person perspective shifts mid-section to the first person perspective. The abrupt shift from "you" to "I", as Froggy becomes any one of us as a part of his efforts to secure a new identity was a tiny stroke of brilliance, and a great finish.


Arkansas is a strong debut novel by John Brandon coming from the never dull and always interesting McSweeney's with complex characters whose multiple facets contain conflicting sides of their personalities that come together to in the telling of a wonderful book. The use of language in Arkansas is precise, intricate, heady and approaches brilliance at times. Brandon is a talent to watch.


--Brian Lindenmuth