Group Read: On the Southern Literary TrailComments: 'The Clearing' by Louisianan Tim Gautreaux has a lot going for it, but it also contains enough niggling disconnects and imbalances in plotting and character to make me wonder if the story itself was meant for the telling. Gautreaux excels with his lush detailing of the steamy, southern Louisiana bayou lumber mill and there are many fine passages of descriptive writing -- the author's precise rendering of the workmen bringing down the final cypress in the camp is just one example among many. But, ultimately, the novel collapses under its own weight because the chief protagonists, Byron and Randolph Aldridge, keep dithering and won't or can't come to terms with the core issues in their lives. It's difficult to say what Gautreaux had in mind for the brothers. Fallible characters in a perpetual holding pattern? A study in passivity? Themes of coping and forbearance factor in the human condition, so they're shouldn't be declared off-limits to the enterprising, psychologically oriented novelist brave enough to tackle them. But what obtains when they're allowed to dominate in a long-form shoot-em-up like 'The Clearing'? My thought: That's a dog that won't hunt. Impasse #1We are meant to understand that part of the Randolph's mission in coming to Louisiana is to bring home or otherwise rehabilitate the prodigal brother Byron, the parish sheriff of mill town Nimbus, still struggling psychologically with what he saw and did as the WWI doughboy fighting the Germans on the killing fields of France. Yet, as Randolph reports to his father on his brother's condition, no plan is forthcoming for getting Byron into whatever constitutes therapy in the 1920s or, for that matter, putting him out of harm's way, back in the family home located in Pittsburgh. Following the end of the war, some bad blood has flowed between the father, Noah, and his son Byron, so reaching reconciliation may prove difficult. All of them probably desire it, yet due to the nature of Byron's intractable, disordered outlook on life, they can't quite determine how to achieve it. The author has put this issue front and center as a story element, but then permits the characters to walk away from it for most of the novel. We're adrift here.Impasse #2At the outset, Randolph believes his tenure in Louisiana is linked to the time it takes to clear the forest -- three years (it will actually take five years before the last cypress is harvested). But neither he nor constable Byron has a time-line for ending the threat of Sicilian mobster Buzetti and henchman Crouch and for closing down the Nimbus honkeytonk and pimping operation preying upon the workers. It's more a matter of containment than a test of courage: Byron thinks closing the saloon would lead to men quitting the camp for the siren allure -- such as it is -- of nearby Tiger Island. Better to keep the men close, he muses, and let them blow off steam in Nimbus where he can be sure the body count won't get too high. As a result of this thinking, though, we continue to get one violent bar and gambling incident after another, without much material change in the nature of the conflict other than an escalated threat level,temporary at its best, a charade at its worst. At one point, when Byron drags Buzetti's Tiger Creek Saloon into the swamp as a reprisal for a death at Nimbus, the matter appears to be heading towards a final showdown. Buzetti's gunmen come to the camp, looking for vengeance, but then surprisingly pull back as the parish sheriff and the mill hands put on a show of force. The next thing we know Buzetti is approaching Randolph on another matter -- allowing the Sicilian's cousin Vincente to return to his old job as the house gambling operator at the Nimbus saloon. Gautreaux here has doubled down on non-sequiturs. It's strange Buzetti has implicitly dropped the matter of the Tiger Creek Saloon destruction, stranger yet Randolph acts on Buzetti's recommendation to persuade his brother to agree to Vicente's return (Convenient, though, because this turn of events keeps Vicente at Nimbus where he will be killed later by Randolph in another episode). Once again, the Aldridges demonstrate an inability to address an overriding concern in the novel. We've seen the heavy cloud but can't get the rain. Impasse #3When the story begins, Ralph is writing to his father about the suffering mill hands, characterizing them as 'rougher' than those in other camps and infused with a sense of 'deprivation or old wrong being done that has gone into their bones'. Yet Gautreaux offers no fully-developed character that gives us a window into this psychology. We are simply being asked to accept the idea that, intrinsically, men like this, under these conditions, behave on the weekend like deranged sub-human sailors on shore leave. With a more temperate work force, of course, the Buzetti problem -- and much of the story -- goes away, or at least improves. But the mill manager makes no effort to figure out what drives the men to self-destructive behavior and makes no move to change the hell-bent, whiskey bound culture found in the camp. Rando should be smarter than this. Following an idea from the Sicilians, can someone please drop a few dollars on these benighted workers and incentivize them to boycott the bar? We're bogged down here.A Change in the WeatherSo, question is, how does this story move forward? Well, it doesn't because it can't, for some prolonged period of time. Finally the actions of three minor players -- the housekeeper May, Randolph's wife Lillian and the old sheriff Merville Thiboudeaux -- break up the roadblocks and lead to altered circumstances and a final climax. It's no thanks to the Aldridges. I liked the idea that the old Acadian lawman Merville wants to do one good deed before he dies, then steps up with a plan to interdict an illegal bootleg delivery and arrest Buzetti and his men. Still, this represents an abrupt change in point of view. The book goes to great lengths to depict the havoc the Sicilians have visited upon the lumber mill family and, in terms of story logic, they're the ones that need to instrument the action to take down Buzetti, not Thiboudeaux. Deputizing the Aldridges doesn't quite cut it.Lillian's arrival surely changes the weather of the story; she's setting up church meetings for the working men and their wives and planning to school the kids, but it's an idea which should have occurred much earlier to her husband. May makes a different contribution -- producing her infant son Walter who finds a path into the heart of his uncle and putative father Byron and starts his emotional healing that's been beyond the reach of the Aldridges since day one. You can credit this development to the grace of God or, more directly, to May's stealthy bone-jumping prowess but either way it's clear little Walter's benign effect on Byron's mental balance does not proceed organically from any Aldridge agency. Final ThoughtsAnd then again maybe all this stems from the fact I'm very impatient with deliberating, passive characters who can't take care of business in a timely manner.I certainly understand 'The Clearing' has its champions and I won't discount the possibility I've 'misread' the novel. I surely know Gautreaux can write. When I picked up this volume at the library, I also grabbed his 'Same Place, 'Same Things', an early story collection that I found technically sure-footed and so inventive and incisive I devoured it almost in a single sitting (from where I sit, it definitely warrants a five-star rating). Still, one day I'd like to have a little talk with Gautreaux's editor.Good or Not So Good, ya gotta call 'em like ya see 'em.
Bienvenue à Nimbus, concession forestière des Aldridge, un des nombreux trous du cul de la Louisiane. Bienvenue dans un enfer chaud et humide.Attention, regardez où vous mettez les pieds car il y a des mocassins d’eau qui se nichent dans les flaques boueuses. Et rien à voir avec la chanson ♫ tes mocassins et les miens ♪ car ici, nous parlons de serpents d’eau.Dans ce roman, les gars, va falloir bosser dur durant de longues années, le temps de couper tous les arbres, des cyprès chauves. Scier les troncs, les débiter 6 jours sur 7 avant de vous saouler la gueule du samedi soir au lundi matin dans le bastringue tenu par un sicilien louche ayant des cousins mafiosi.Oubliez les syndicats et les droits des travailleurs, car en 1923, seuls les riches ont des droits. Je ne vous parlerai même pas du cas où vous seriez de couleur… là, le mot "droit" n’existe même pas pour vous, hormis celui de fermer votre gueule.Sans user d’artifices, l’auteur nous décrit l’Amérique des années 20, celle qui avance à pas de géant, qui industrialise tout, qui déforeste tout… Le roman vous plongera dans un marais où les conditions de vie et de travail sont inhumaines, les accidents graves ou mortels nombreux et où le racisme, tel l’alligator dans le bayou, règne en maître.Utilisant une multitude de personnages, tous bien travaillés, tous bien distincts – certains étant même très attachants – l’auteur explore une partie des années 20, avec tout ce qu’elles avaient de démesuré niveau progrès industriel (le téléphone et les constructions à tout va, en bois). Sans oublier le traumatisme de la Première Guerre, bien présent chez un des frères Aldridge, Byron.C’est toute la vie de la concession forestière qui se déroule dans ce roman aussi profond que l’étendue des cyprès : les maladies, les accidents, le débit de boisson, la mafia qui tient les ouvriers par l’alcool, les putes et le jeu, ces hommes dépensant jusqu’à leur dernier sous dans ce bouge dégoutant.La sueur a coulée sur mon front durant la lecture, non pas que le roman était pompant, mais il est tellement puissant que j’ai été emportée dans le bayou, suivant ses méandres tortueux et boueux, j’ai pataugé dans tout cela et j’en suis ressortie bouleversée, épuisée, secouée… L’âme de certains hommes est plus boueuse et tortueuse que les méandres de ce diable de bayou !La tension est palpable tout au long de l’histoire, les salauds vous harcèlent comme un moustique la nuit, vous ne savez jamais quand ils vont frapper et c’est au moment où l’attention se relâche qu’ils en profiteront pour vous piquer définitivement d’une balle bien placée.Il y a aussi dans ce récit de l’amour fraternel, celui d’un frère cadet (Randolph) qui ne sait rien de la Grande Guerre et qui voudrait aider son aîné (Byron) à se ressaisir, lui qui a vu les horreurs de Verdun. Un père aussi, qui voulait que son fil Byron fasse la guerre, qu’il soit un héros, qu’il aille au feu et qui ne comprend pas pourquoi il est revenu traumatisé, se réfugiant dans l’alcool et le fuyant comme la peste.Tant de personnages dont j’ai partagé la vie, les souvenirs sur cette Amérique, tout ces gens que je dois quitter, maintenant, les laisser aller ailleurs, détruire une autre forêt (pour les Aldridge), reconstruire d’autres baraquements minables et continuer à se faire exploiter car une partie de ces pauvres gars, après 5 années de dur labeur, n’ont même pas mis un dollar de côté sur un compte en banque et repartent avec les mêmes frusques sur le dos.Un grand roman coup de cœur qui ne vous laissera pas indifférent, un roman sur l’impitoyable capitalisme des années 20 dans une Amérique qui se gave de progrès technique au point de ne pas réfléchir et de détruire tout le capital « arbres ». Ici, c’est pas Zorro qui fait la loi, mais les Zéro qu’on a après les chiffres, sur un compte en banque.Un grand roman presque en vase-clos, dans un décor dévasté par les crues, la boue… Une nature qui était magnifique mais qui sera dévastée car ici, on coupe les arbres jusqu’au dernier…Enfile tes bottes, prends ta scie et regarde où tu marches, des fois qu’un alligator ou un serpent te mordrais… gaffe aussi aux mafiosi, comme ces animaux précités, ils n’aiment pas qu’on les dérange dans leur petit business…Prends une Winchester à plusieurs coups et laisse-toi tenter par un verre de whisky frelaté dans le troquet. La paye n’est pas bonne, la boisson non plus, les conditions de travail sont merdiques, mais putain, tu vas lire un sacré bon roman !
Do You like book The Clearing (2015)?
Gautreaux gets down and dirty in the swamp, throwing down a gumbo of alligators, cottonmouths, coonasses, Sicilian gangsters - even a patch wearing villian. It's all very impressive for about the first 100 pages, but the swamp got bogged down after one too many bar fights and card games gone bad. A love triangle and love child makes things a bit more interesting, but never amounted to an emotional connection and the relationship between the brothers also failed for me. At times it read like a dime store Western, complete with posses and more shootouts and ass kicking I could keep up with. I feel like I've had my ass kicked enduring to the end!
—Jim Hale
This really a 3 and a half. I may have even been a four but half a star got caught up in the mechanics of steam engines and couldn't be dislodged. Set in a mining camp in cypress swamps of Louisiana, the setting is stark and violent. It sets the scene for a book full of suspense and drama and surprising tenderness. The author obviously loves all things steam and may have been a little indulgent in his descriptions of the trains and the mill but it does add to the building tension. I like the swampiness of this novel, that feeling of rising damp. The final scenes when the last tree is cut from the clearing is heartbreaking in its honesty about the environmental damage that was done. It was that violence I found the hardest to stomach.
—Angie
I fell in love with Gautreaux after reading one of his short stories in the New Yorker--he's got that Southern thing down pat, the water and the green dark and the ruin and the snakes and the violence. I decided to read everything he'd written. Now I'm not as sure as I was: I love the writing, but I'm thinking he may be better for the short-story genre. Characters are a little boiler-plated, I fear, and the plot never just wound me up and dragged me along. Still, I do love the writing. The story turns around two brothers, lumber mill owners in the mid-1920's, and the setting is a Louisiana cypress swamp that's being taken out, systematically and with an eye on the (highly profitable) end of the endeavor. There's the expected multi-layered conflict between the two brothers, a sinister threat from outside that pulls them together, and there are lots and lots of saloon fights. Lots of them. Gautreaux doesn't sentimentalize the destruction of the old-growth trees, but he doesn't let us look away from it, either. I found myself drawn to the details of lumbering more than to the human story, maybe because I think I DO sentimentalize the loss of great forests. So I'll probably still go on and read all of Gautreaux's work, but I'm not quite as much in love as I was before this one.
—Dera Weaver
