I’ve always been a devotee of Barbara Kingsolver (see prior writeups of Unsheltered and Prodigal Summer), but had largely assumed the crowning achievement of her illustrious career would be 1998’s The Poisonwood Bible. Enter 2022’s Demon Copperhead, a novel of similarly stunning breadth and power and even more immediacy.
Demon Copperhead is a retelling of Charles Dickens‘ David Copperfield, but don’t let that give you pause–I last read Dickens decades ago, and familiarity with his works is in no way a requirement to dive into Kingsolver’s far more contemporary novel, which is set in Appalachia during the initial waves of the opioid crisis–most likely the 1990’s and/or early 2000’s.
Demon–named for both his attitude and his reddish, kinky hair–spends much of his youth moving in and out of various foster homes, searching for a chosen family and enough stability to build an adolescence free of imminent risk, with only occasional success. A sports injury diverts him into a dependency on opioids, and the accompanying social groups do nothing to help him recover. There are a constellation of secondary characters–adults who care, adults who don’t, peers who care for Demon, peers who look to manipulate him, others in whom Demon places unwarranted faith. In other words, a thickly believable social context, especially for late adolescence.
The novel slows down once Demon is taking pain killers–a reflection of the state of addiction that, I think, works as a narrative device, but is striking in comparison to the somewhat breakneck prior plot. That, and the preternatural sophistication of Demon’s younger voice may be obstacles for some, but I think they are well worth overcoming.
The power of Demon Copperhead is the depiction of rural America, of the struggles and challenges of its people, and of the immense humanity of deeply flawed characters. It’s a masterpiece, very strongly recommended.