Book Review: THE LISTENER by Robert McCammon

THE LISTENER by Robert McCammon  (Cemetery Dance Publications, 2018)  Hardcover, 332 pages. ISBN # 978-1-58767-613-0 

 

Summary from the Goodreads website . . . . 

 

1934. Businesses went under by the hundreds, debt and foreclosures boomed, and breadlines grew in many American cities. 

 

In the midst of this misery, some folks explored unscrupulous ways to make money. Angel-faced John Partlow and carnival huckster Ginger LaFrance are among the worst of this lot. Joining together they leave their small time confidence scams behind to attempt an elaborate kidnapping-for-ransom scheme in New Orleans.

 

In a different part of town, Curtis Mayhew, a young black man who works as a redcap for the Union Railroad Station, has a reputation for mending quarrels and misunderstandings among his friends. What those friends don't know is that Curtis has a special talent for listening... and he can sometimes hear things that aren't spoken aloud.

 

One day, Curtis Mayhew's special talent allows him to overhear a child's cry for help (THIS MAN IN THE CAR HE'S GOT A GUN), which draws him into the dangerous world of Partlow and LaFrance.

 

This gritty depression-era crime thriller is a complex tale enriched by powerfully observed social commentary and hints of the supernatural, and it represents Robert McCammon writing at the very top of his game.

 

My review on the Goodreads website . . . . .

 

    Subtitled A Novel of Suspense, THE LISTENER is an engrossing tale of depression-era crime in Louisiana with compelling characters and supernatural themes. It’s not frightening, but the callousness of several dark characters and the inhuman treatment of its’ most luminous and sensitive protagonist is disturbing. 

 

    Nevertheless, THE LISTENER will most likely find itself pigeon-holed within the horror genre, due to the reputation of Robert McCammon (five Bram Stoker Awards for horror), and the publisher (Cemetery Dance, noted for works of horror). In fact, it has been nominated for the 2018 This Is Horror Awards and other similar recognitions.  It’s not a problem being considered a horror novel, all things considered. It’s just that perhaps this worthy novel will miss the attention of a broader audience because of those associations. 

That would be unfortunate, since this is a great book that should be read by as many as possible. 

 

  The fourteen-page first chapter is a masterpiece of economical writing. Within it, McCammon paints such a colorful portrait of the deep south of 1934 America that you will understand exactly what it felt like to live and survive in those hard times. By the end of the chapter, you’ll be throughly immersed in the story, and already hosting ill feelings towards a character after his cruel, criminal act.

 

   Actually, I was hooked after that killer figurative first paragraph: 

 

    “The Devil can be a man or a woman. The Devil can be a hard spring in the seat of a car, a gnat in the eye, or the whack of a wooden baton on the iron bars of a jail cell.  The Devil can be a flash of lightning, a swallow of bad whiskey, or a rotten apple slowly decaying a basketful of good ones. The Devil can be a belt across the back of a child, or a cardboard box of cheap paperback Bibles swelling up in the hot rear seat of an eight-year old faded green Oakland two-door sedan held together by rust and wires.

Which, today, the Devil was.” 

 

  In a beautiful final chapter that is both sad and joyous at the same time, the Devil metaphors return, this time in the words of a preacher at a funeral service.  

 

McCammon does in a few words or sentences what it requires paragraphs for other authors to achieve. He immerses you in his world, interspersing historical details and letting you into the heads of his characters so deeply that you understand everything, and then live through it as the pages turn. It’s the absolute best kind of history lesson.

 

   Along with the concise and evocative tale of depression days New Orleans is a thoroughly engaging story of children being kidnapped and the efforts to return them to their family. McCammon also manages to mix in some subtle social commentary on the gap between haves and have nots, the lengths to which some people will go when pushed, the racial inequality of the Deep South during that era, and the power of belief. The supernatural element, the ability of some to “listen” to others thoughts and learn to communicate this way, is central to the plot but its’ more like ice cream. This story would be killer, regardless of how McCammon chose to tell it. Highly recommended.