Gospel Singer

by Harry Crews

[jamiereadthis]

I’m debunking the theory that your first Crews is your favorite. Or, at the very least, I’m proving myself the exception to the rule. Every Crews I’ve read has been a steady hike uphill, starting with A Feast of Snakes, on to A Childhood, and now, the latest but certainly not last: The Gospel Singer.

It’s A Feast of Snakes meets Darin Morgan’s “Humbug” meets The Apostle, and that’s just where I’m trying to come up with a sentence that, had I told it to myself before I ever opened the cover, would have given me a hint of just how much I might love this. It still falls woefully short of doing the book justice. It’s a mix of freaks and geeks and saints and sinners that only Harry Crews can write.

And that’s leaving out the part where it’s my favorite story structure, too. Where you take pass after pass at the story, and each pass through a different character’s eyes adds layers you couldn’t have imagined at first. Shapes you wouldn’t think possible, until they’re only the shapes that make profound and perfect sense.

At this rate, the only thing I’m wary of is how much I might like which Crews I read next.