Many, many thanks to all of my new subscribers following my recent post on my (soon to disappear) blog. Whether you’re a paid or free subscriber, I am very grateful that you found your way here and for your kind words about my writing. It means more than you can possibly know. I’m doing my best to get back to writing consistently, and I’ll do my best to make this newsletter worth your time.
I also want to thank those of you who have been such a great support during the past two months. You know who you are. As I wrote here and as many of you know, my very best friend in the world (besides my husband, that is) died on New Year’s Eve. In keeping with her personality, Cheryl fought like hell for 18 months against a very aggressive brain cancer. We became friends in 4th grade and, because our birthdays were only three days apart, we called each other sisters.
Navigating this world without someone who has been by your side for 44 years, whether in person or by text, is something that I will forever be figuring out how to do. I’m no stranger to loss and grief, but, well…this one is hard. Right up there with my Dad’s sudden death when I was 15. I miss Cheryl every second of every day.
Because. She. Should. Still. Be. Here.
I had this bracelet made with her handwriting. Love you sis was how we ended every phone call and this signature of hers is from a card that I referenced in her eulogy. The stone is an aquamarine, her birthstone, for March; after I ordered it, I seemed to remember that she didn’t like the aquamarine and decided to use April’s diamond instead. To me, it’s the color of the ocean, which she loved, so that works.
Then, at the end of January, my mother’s most recent husband died, and it was back to Philly (a six-hour drive from Pittsburgh) for his funeral. One bright side related to that: I took a little detour and stopped off in Gettysburg to have brunch with College Boy.
A few of my mom’s cousins, who I hadn’t seen probably since my grandfather died in 2009, came to the funeral. It was nice to see them again. I got to hang out with some of my mom’s friends, who I adore and who I want to grow up to be when I’m 80. I had a chance to have some much overdue one-on-one time with my mom. Other than running to a store when we’re visiting, I don’t think we’ve been alone together since my kids were toddlers.
So, with two deaths/funerals in a month, this year has gotten off to an interesting start. Not to mention a few other big changes happening, but those are for a different post.
— Pardon the interruption. I’m listening to my Spotify “Release Radar” playlist as I write this post, and apparently Bonnie Tyler has re-recorded “Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Which would be fine but this is SPED UP and sounds like a cover by Alvin and the Chipmunks.
What in the fresh hell? Does the world really need this? Why can’t anyone have an original thought or idea anymore? Why does everything need to be remade or rebooted?
My reading mojo seems to have returned, thankfully. I only read four books in January but February was more typical for me, with six books. I’m working on my What I Read in January and February post for y’all. One of those was so phenomenal that I’m calling it now: come December, I predict this will be my favorite book of 2023:
I think Demon Copperhead is Barbara Kingsolver’s finest novel yet, and that’s with most of her books being four or five star reads for me. It’s inspired by David Copperfield although it’s not necessary to have read this particular Dickens beforehand. (I haven’t.)
Life is stacked against Damon Fields from the very beginning. He was born en caul — still contained in the amniotic sac — to a teenage, drug-addicted mother on the bathroom floor of their trailer. (“First, I got myself born,” begins the novel.) He’s inherited his dead father’s red hair, earning him the nickname Demon Copperhead, and a life with too many odds stacked against him.
Kingsolver sets her novel in an area she understands well: Lee County, Virginia is a corner of Appalachia bordering Kentucky and Tennessee. There, everybody knows everybody, and it’s a kind neighbor family — the Peggots — who look after Demon after his mother dies on his 11th birthday. It’s a lasting connection that remains throughout Demon’s life, through many twists and turns, ups and downs, and a lifelong dream to see the ocean. I don’t want to spoil much more of the plot, but if you’re familiar with Kingsolver’s work, you know that it often features social justice and biodiversity themes. Demon Copperhead is no exception: it’s a story of generational poverty, opioid addiction, foster care, small-town life, and more.
Demon Copperhead is a brilliant, magnificent literary achievement, earning a well-deserved spot (just announced today!) on the Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023 longlist. Everything works seamlessly in this novel. Kingsolver writes characters who make you forget you’re reading fiction. You’ll forget they aren’t real people, and you will root for Demon (and others) over and over, and you will get your heart broken just as much as you laugh. The dialogue, the descriptions, the tone, the pacing — all phenomenal. I loved this book so much and if you’re an audiobook listener, I highly recommend going that route because Charlie Thurston’s narration is absolute perfection.
That’s about it for now. As I said, I’m doing my best to get back to a regular writing schedule. Thanks so much for being here.
Melissa, I randomly came across your Substack because I googled “Olena Kalytiak Davis, Resolutions in a Parked Car” and a stack of yours popped up. I just want to say I am so sorry for your loss. Sending you hugs. Also, I am going to check out this read!
All the best,
Trishina
I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear friend. A friend of mine just lent me Demon Copperhead. Everyone keeps telling me to read it. I have one chapter left of This Here Flesh. Then, I’ll start.