by Chris Whitaker ★★★★★
Perhaps my most anticipated book of 2024, after We Begin At The End was my runaway Best Book of 2021, I was fortunate enough to get an ARC and a sneak peek at the newest from author Chris Whitaker.
The novel opens in 1975, in a small Missouri town. We're introduced to Joseph "Patch" Macauley, a 13-year-old boy who fancies himself a pirate, due to his being born with just one eye, an idea introduced and encouraged by his mother as a way to stave off some of the inevitable bullying he faced growing up. He has a singular best friend, a girl his age named Saint Brown, big glasses, big brain, awkward yet plain beyond notice, who lives alone with her grandmother. The two outcasts find refuge in each other's friendship and comfort in a world in which both feel lost more often than not.
Patch is walking alone to school one day when he hears a scream from the woods. Without hesitating, he sprints to the source to find a balaclava-clad man in a struggle with Misty Meyer, his classmate and, not to mention, the most beautiful girl in school. Like any good pirate, Patch carries a dagger on his person at all times, and springs to Misty's defense. But a 13-year-old is no match for a fully grown man, and while Misty is able to run to safety, Patch is stabbed with his own dagger before being abducted.
The police search the scene, and after the inevitable flurry of small town activity in support of the search, the clues dry up as the search turns up empty. The find Patch's blood and his eyepatch, but no body is ever found, but the likely reality beings to set in. Other priorities take precedence for the police, but not for Saint. She knows that Patch is still out there somewhere, that she'd feel it in her core if he wasn't, and she never gives up trying to find him.
Because the abduction happens in the first few pages of the book, Whitaker builds the foundation of Saint's and Patch's friendship through memories and flashbacks. Like he did in We Begin at the End, he creates endearing characters on the cusp of early adulthood who have dealt with more than most their age but still retain some of the innocence of childhood. I'll share one passage from the very beginning of their friendship, which has all of the sweetness and humor that will make you love these two. Background for the scene: Saint sent invitations to the girls in her class, offering to show them her beehives (she's a burgeoning beekeeper and honey farmer); Patch intercepted an invitation and crudely replaced the recipient's name with his own. He arrives at the gate to her yard, and the following exchange takes place:
"I'm here about the honey," he said, and stared past her as if he were seeking out a jar for himself.
"Oh."
"I received this invitation, which I believe is good for a sample, and perhaps a tour of the facility."
He was clearly an imbecile.
He noticed the hive and let out a long whistle. "Manuka, right?"
"Manuka honey is produced in Australia and New Zealand."
He closed his solitary eye and nodded, as if he were testing her.
His arms were more bone than flesh, and his hair long. He smelled faintly of mud and candy and carried grazes across his knuckles like he'd been pulled from a fight, and he wore a leather belt looped twice at the waist, and in it was tucked a wooden cutlass.
She might have told him to leave, but then he smiled. And it was the first time another kid had smiled her way since she had arrived in Monta Clare. And it was a good smile. Dimples. Neat teeth.
"I've heard it's the finest honey this side of..."
"I worked a whole six months on the hive," she said. Though clearly afflicted, he was the first kid to show real interest, and so she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the Langstroth, took her moment and shone, dazzling him with bee facts he quickly claimed to already be aware of. Sometimes he chimed in with absolute nonsense.
"And these are pure bees?" he said.
She pretended not to hear.
When they came to the honey house, his eye widened at the shelves. Two dozen jars, some glowed golden.
She handed him one, told him to wait as she headed into the kitchen to fetch a spoon, some crackers, a stack of napkins, and her honey apron.
Saint returned to find him sitting beneath a butterfly bush, the jar half-empty and his hand caked in honey.
She marched toward him, placed her hands on her small hips and glowered.
He looked up at her as honey ran from his chin. "Tell you what, I'd say this is the sweetest thing I ever saw...and then I saw you, Becky."
"Who the hell is Becky?"
He scratched his head, leaving a deposit of honey at his hairline. Then he reached for the invitation.
"Becky Thomas is the girl that invite was meant for," she said.
"Well...then who put my name on it? Maybe fate intervened. Cupid aimed his bow." Patch made an O with the forefinger and thumb of his left hand, before penetrating it with the index finger of his right.
"What was that?" Saint said.
"I see the older kids doing it. I believe it's Cupid's arrow sticking right into my heart."
There are definitely some similarities to We Begin at the End -- "Patch the pirate" vs. "Duchess the outlaw"; deep friendship among childhood outsiders with Patch and Saint, just like we saw with Duchess and Thomas Noble; a mother who struggles with her own demons and thereby can't fully care for her son in Patch's mother Ivy, just like we saw with Duchess's mother Star; a kindhearted police chief who goes out of his way to help these kids in Chief Nix, just like Walk -- as you can see, it felt more than a little derivative initially (which wouldn't necessarily have been the worst thing). But while some of the archetypical characters are redundant, the plot and personalities deviate quite a bit, This is a novel that explores an entirely new space, and does so in a brilliant way.
The novel is sprawling, spanning 1975 to 2001, and it tackles a ton of difficult topics, including child abduction and abuse, rape, and abortion rights, to name a few. It's a heavier read because of those topics, but Whitaker still sprinkles in levity throughout (as evidenced by the passage above), a critical element in helping the reader get through the weightiest of parts of the book. We Begin at the End was a wall-to-wall high-5-star book for me; this one dipped a hair lower at times, mostly because of the challenging subject matter.
I was a bit concerned at one point about where the plot was going; however, the final hundred or so pages pull everything together beautifully. There are a series of coincidences that are just this side of believable, but it all totally worked for me, and those rocketed the novel to a wholly satisfying conclusion. Bravo to Chris Whitaker for once again creating characters I'll remember forever and again claiming an early spot atop my Books of the Year list. He has crafted a well-plotted novel that tackles a number of difficult topics, but from the darkness emerges a story that is ultimately uplifting, even if the path to get there is difficult. Very highly recommended.