Barbara Kingsolver
Harper Collins, 560 pages | Published October 18, 2022
Had Charles Dickens published his epic novels in a modern-day blog, rather than a periodical, comments would have likely ranged from, “so tragic — why is the government neglecting these children?” to “Humbug! They had better die and decrease the surplus population.” With nearly 175 years and an ocean to separate us from Victorian England, most of us find compassion for Dickens’ plucky orphans, struggling under abuse, poverty and the utter failure of adults and institutions to care for them. We are less understanding of their modern equivalents.
Barbara Kingsolver knows this, and her latest work reimagines David Copperfield in a present-day world of rural poverty and opioid addiction. Born on a trailer floor to a teenage addict, Damon Fields – nicknamed “Demon” – is tossed from stepfather to social worker to foster homes and into forced child labor. Demon Copperhead is a brilliant political statement – cleverly disguised in a narrative – that swiftly draws you in.
Disguised is, perhaps, the wrong word, as Kingsolver’s message hides in plain sight. She condemns the institutions that create and prescribe legal drugs to address very real pain, and then fail to address the opioid crisis they created. But it is Demon, not Kingsolver, who makes the case, and he does so in the unfiltered voice of a child, who knows no other world, and whose most earnest dream is simply to see the ocean. So rather than give a lecture, Kingsolver delivers a deep dive into a messy world in which young people play the hand they’re dealt, moving from bad choice to poor decision to lesser of two evils. What does hope look like for kids like Demon?
Kingsolver grew up in Kentucky and still lives on an Appalachian farm, yet her years living and working elsewhere offer perspective. She’s both an insider and an outsider to Demon’s world and writes with both distance and affection. She doesn’t sugarcoat the suffering, nor does she conclude that’s all there is. When Demon notices national newspapers cover only the poverty and addiction of his region, he says, “(e)very make of person now has their proper nouns, except for some reason, us. Hicks, rednecks, not capitalized.” And he’s right. Progressive writers and leaders are expected to respect most marginalized groups but rural America can still be treated with condescension,
even disdain.
Dickens was paid by the installment. If his novels seem overly long and his plots excessively twisty, it’s likely because of the need to offer a cliff-hanger to sell next week’s periodical. Kingsolver hews closely to her source material, and it nearly gets the better of her. Demon’s voice is the story’s through line, but even he is overwhelmed by the numerous peripheral characters and the tragedies that befall them.
The more intriguing and hopeful subplots (and their clever parallels in Dickens’ masterpiece) are buried in relentless stretches of addiction. Demon’s relationship with two teachers – a bi-racial couple from up north who encourage his gifts – is far more interesting than watching character after character become dopesick, and brief glimpses into Demon’s growth as an artist and storyteller are welcome. But bearing witness to Demon’s world is worth the ride.
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