Billy
Coffey is a storyteller, one of the best writing today. Even more, he’s a natural
storyteller, the words seemingly rolling right on to the page. To read a story
by Coffey is to sit in a diner, preferably somewhere in South, and listen while
waitresses refill coffee cups and slide a bit of lemon meringue pie across the
table in your direction. And the stories do come.
Coffey’s
first novel, Snow
Day, told the story of a man facing the loss of his job when it snows,
giving jobs and loss of jobs a brief respite. It’s a day when he will learn
what’s truly important, simply by considering the stories of the people he runs
into.
His
second novel, Paper
Angels, involves a man recovering from an injury in a hospital, and a
visitor arrives to help him sort through a box of what looks like utterly
worthless things. But each thing has a story, and the man watches his own story
unfold as the box is sorted.
And
now there’s When
Mockingbirds Sing. It’s ambitious. It goes beyond, well beyond, the
weaving of interrelated stories of his first two books, to become a unified
story, a large story with a large theme. Through the characters in the town of
Mattingly, Coffey lays open the questions of what is faith, what is doubt, what
is prophecy, and what happens when they collide in the lives or people.
Tom
and Ellen Norcross and their daughter Leah have moved to Mattingly, both to
seek reduced pressures from Tom’s counseling workload and to repair a marriage
that is not doing well. Their daughter Leah is a quiet child with a stutter,
and with something else – an imaginary friend she calls the Rainbow Man, who
inspires here to paint extraordinary pictures.
Leah
says the Rainbow Man has told her to give the first picture to Barney Moore,
who cares for his stroke-paralyzed wife Mabel. Barney sees numbers painted on
the picture, bets the numbers in the lottery and comes up a winner with $250
million. When he announces what happens at church, life in Mattingly begins to
blow apart, and Leah finds herself both sought after and reviled. Her one
friend, Allie Granderson, sticks by her, however (and the character of Allie is
drawn so well that she threatens to steal the story at times).
Then
Leah paints another picture, one no one can figure out. But it is a sign of
something that’s coming, something bad, and everyone’s lives will be changed
because of it.
While
Leah (and Allie) sit at the center of the story, Coffey has drawn a fine
supporting cast – the legalistic deacon, the pastor impressed with his own
success, a father who rejects faith because of the damage he believes it’s
caused in the lives of the people he counsels, a mother who in her loneliness
is turning to alcohol, the small-town sheriff. Together they move toward what
the Rainbow Man has told Leah will come.
It’s
an ambitious novel, and it works, and works well. Coffey has aimed at large themes,
and hit them with a practiced eye. These are bedrock themes, especially for
people of faith, and Coffey doesn’t duck the hard questions. He’s written When Mockingbirds Sing strong and true,
and we tackle the hard questions with him.
Photograph: Northern Mockingbird,
courtesy Birder’s
Lounge.
4 comments:
What a thorough, thoughtful review. Not only of Mockingbirds but of Billy's scope of work. As much as I loved Snow Day and Paper Angels, I think Mockingbirds is the first book that demonstrates Billy's talents for character and plot building.
Fine review, Glynn.
I so admire this new novel of Billy's, how he deftly handles his characters (Allie's my favorite) and uses symbolism to make a point without heavy-handedness. The town and the weather, both well-drawn characters, serve the symbolism well, and Billy's use of passage of time frames the story beautifully.
Terrifical review for a great novel. I don't know what to add to this, but to second all of what you, miss Katdish, and miss Maureen already said.
Blessings.
good review, mr. young.
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