Shiner, by Amy Jo Burns, is written in a lovely, lyrical style that reads like magical realism at many points. But gritty topics circling gender roles, poverty, loyalty, and faith root this book – set on an isolated Appalachian mountain – in the very real world.
A synopsis:
An hour from the closest West Virginia mining town, fifteen-year-old Wren Bird lives in a cloistered mountain cabin with her parents. They have no car, no mailbox, and no visitors-except for her mother’s lifelong best friend. Every Sunday, Wren’s father delivers winding sermons in an abandoned gas station, where he takes up serpents and praises the Lord for his blighted white eye, proof of his divinity and key to the hold he has over the community, over Wren and her mother.
But over the course of one summer, a miracle performed by Wren’s father quickly turns to tragedy. As the order of her world begins to shatter, Wren must uncover the truth of her father’s mysterious legend and her mother’s harrowing history and complex bond with her best friend. And with that newfound knowledge, Wren can imagine a different future for herself than she has been told to expect.
There is a sort of ethereal fog that settles over much of this book as Burns brings us into a world of mountain and mining folks who keep to themselves and worship at the feet of a snake handler.
At odds with this are the teenage city kids and their cell phones who the unschooled Wren sees on infrequent trips to get groceries in town. This more obvious us vs. them dynamic is echoed in all the ways Wren’s own family and small community set themselves apart from each other with secrets and regrets.
Careful plotting and multiple perspectives help to slowly unearth heartbreaking truths, and though tragedy seems heaped on tragedy here, it’s a beautiful thing to watch Wren decide who she will be outside of all she’s known.
I read this as part of a book club, and though I’m sure some will find the themes and tone heavy, there’s a lot to pore over and discuss as a group.
BOOK:30 