From Publishers Weekly
"I got handed lemons, too, y'know—but I learned how to make lemonade with them.... No one ever told me I had to add sugar but that's life for you. It ain't sweet." That's the jumbled and unforgiving logic that drives Flock's (
But Inside I'm Screaming) second novel, a punishing Southern family drama that tries to achieve
To Kill a Mockingbird–grade poignancy by heaping tribulations on its child narrator. The novel starts off sweetly, with the smalltown antics of Carrie, a scrappy Scout-like eight-year-old who's always accompanied by her younger sister Emma. Carrie dreamily darts back and forth between her rough-and-tumble present (abusive stepfather, unloving mother) and the happy memories of her dead father, creating a bittersweet picture of her life in Toast, N.C., spiked with colorful Southern language and some feisty supporting characters. But journalist Flock soon loses control of her meandering story and this Southern slice-of-life disintegrates into narrative chaos. The action moves "slow as a crippled turtle," as Carrie's Momma would say, and down-home charm fails to camouflage the creaky, roundabout chronology. After nearly 300 pages of rambling drama, the twist at the end is revealed so haphazardly that it will probably bewilder readers more than surprise them. Sugarcoated it ain't, but instead of delivering profundity, Flock's tough love turns poor forsaken Carrie into a caricature.
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From Booklist
Carrie, an eight-year-old narrator wise beyond her years, lives with her six-year-old sister, Emma, her mother, and her stepfather, Richard, in a small North Carolina town. Carrie fondly remembers her Daddy, a carpet salesman who was killed in a robbery. Richard is his opposite: an often-unemployed alcoholic who abuses Carrie and Emma as well as their momma. But they are dependent on him as he moves them across the state when he finds a sawmill job. With a seemingly indomitable spirit, Carrie perseveres, making friends at her new school, avoiding blows from both parents whenever possible, and seeking solace with an elderly neighbor who senses her isolation and introduces her to guitar picking and target shooting. Various other adults see the signs of abuse but never take the steps necessary to stop it, leading to a violent denouement that seems preordained. Deftly capturing the hidden thoughts of an emotionally bereft child, Flock's haunting second novel, reminiscent of Kaye Gibbons'
Ellen Foster, is not soon forgotten.
Deborah DonovanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
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