After I read a book and let it sit and soak in for a while, there’s a game I like to play with certain texts and writers. I open the book to a random page and find a line which stuns with its beauty, weirdness, imagery, or some other facet of great writing. Often, I have to read back a page or so to place the line or passage in the larger context of the story. Not all writers pull this off, but Ben Drevlow, this time with his latest collection, Honky, published by Cowboy Jamboree Press, is an absolute master. Drevlow spins honest, strange prose like almost no other writer I know.
Honky is a true hybrid. I don’t know what the hell is it, not sure Drevlow does either. It’s billed as stories which he said started as poems which morphed into autobiographical fictional essays. On a plot level, the stories take us through two periods in our protagonist, Ben’s, life. In the first half, set in Northernass Wisconsin, we see teenage Ben try deal with his father, understand the racial dynamics of playing basketball with Black guys in a white ass culture, and manage his depression from more than one childhood trauma. In the second group of stories adult Ben is now living in Southernass Georgia with his future ex-wife, and still trying to understand racial divides whether through encounters with homeless folks on his block or conversations at the store or a professional conference.
Let’s look at some found lines, I’ll move backward through the text.
Imagine he isn’t black and I’m not white and we aren’t talking at a writing conference. We’re making sweet tender love in a hot tub full of turkey gravy.
Drevlow writes about sex, and his fumblings with it, with language that’s bawdy, honest, and (homo) erotic.
I get my white tank top with the unfortunate colloquial name soaked with sweat, my hands all greasy, my dog-bone pants all grass-stained, sand grinding around up in my kibbles and bits.
C’mon, when you find a writer who writes this way – soak it up and look for more
As far as I know, Q grew up with a dad and a mom and never lost a close friend or family member, never went to jail, and never sold drugs. It’s fucked up when those are the credentials listed to support the argument that Q was not your stereotypical black man.
Drevlow is searingly honest when it comes to race whether regarding his own blind spots or internalized racism or that of the society at large.
If you’re looking for a story where my dad explains to me why rap is degrading to women and promotes violence and toxic masculinity and I internalize his message and only listen to Christian rock the rest of my life… This is not your story.
It’s not that story but it’s so much more.
Grab a copy of Honky now as well as anything else from this amazing writer:
http://www.cowboyjamboreemagazine.com/books.html (drops on August 13th!!!)
François Bereaud is a husband, dad, full time math professor, mentor in the San Diego Congolese refugee community, and mediocre hockey player. He writes, edits, and sometimes publishes. In September, Cowboy Jamboree Press will publish his first full manuscript, San Diego Stories. Read him at francoisbereaud.com.