Oil People, the debut novel from David Huebert (Chemical Valley, Peninsula Sinking), follows a two-pronged narrative structure to tell a gothic-tinged tale of greed, thwarted love, madness and environmental devastation. In May 1987, 13-year-old Jade Armbruster lives with her parents and older sister Angie on what’s left of the Armbruster estate in Lambton County, Ontario, the site of Canada’s first oil gusher (established by ancestor Clyde Armbruster in 1862). Also on the property is the Canadian Petroleum Legacy Museum, which the family owns and operates. Business at the museum is sporadic at best and their drilling business, decades past its prime but which still produces a small amount of oil each year, is, like the house, ramshackle. Unfortunately for Jade, her parents are engaged in an ongoing dispute about whether or not to sell up and leave (her father wants to; her mother, who grew up on the estate, does not), and their raised voices provide a nightly backdrop to her attempts to sleep. The novel’s second narrative thread, set in the 1860s, depicts Clyde Armbruster’s discovery of oil in Southern Ontario and his subsequent partnership with savvy speculator Arlyss Mayweather to bring the discovery to market. These bare-bones elements support a story that encompasses all manner of eccentric behaviours, betrayals and afflictions. Jade herself is an oddity: her left eye has an extra pupil, a trait she shares with her mother’s long-dead sister, Poppy, who at age fourteen perished in the fire that burned the south wing of the Armbruster home, the remnants of which still stand. The story of Clyde Armbruster is, depending on your point of view, one of single-minded determination or unhinged obsession. Without the help of electricity or motorized apparatus, drilling for oil in the 1860s was a laborious process, and Clyde drilled deeper than anyone thought possible to reach the oil he was sure lay below. Clyde’s discovery wreaked instant ecological havoc when the gusher burst forth unconstrained, spewing raw oil across the surrounding woodlands, streams and farms, contaminating the earth and devastating wildlife. Regardless, Clyde himself stayed on site, devotedly toiling in the oil fields. However, long-term exposure to the chemicals thus unleashed affected his brain and caused his behaviour to grow increasingly erratic and unpredictable. And more: the chemical exposure likely rendered him unable to impregnate his wife, Lise. This was a problem because Lise was desperate for a child, and when she turned to the Mayweathers—Arlyss and his wife Dorothy—for help, it added an enticing wrinkle to Armbruster family lore. Toward the end of his life, after Mayweather bought him out of the oil business, Clyde was consumed by another obsession: birds and taxidermy, the dusty and disturbing evidence of which is strewn throughout Jade’s home. In 1987, Jade’s family is fractured. With her parents at odds about the family’s future on the property, Jade’s sister Angie has become a radical environmentalist, no longer bothering to conceal her disgust with the family’s toxic legacy and encouraging her journalist boyfriend to write an environmental exposé for the local paper. Jade herself is undergoing the confusing emotional and physical transformations of puberty, and at the same time has developed a crush on schoolmate Marc, whose family runs a pig farm. But Marc seems to have allied himself with Jade’s best friend turned nemesis Thea Mayweather, whose family, more than a century later, remains well off from the proceeds of Arlyss Mayweather’s business acumen. Events come to a head when a spill from a chemical plant unleashes a toxic blob into the St. Clair River (note: this actually happened), where Marc and Jade had gone swimming. And all along, Jade has been monitoring the progress of the sludge oozing slowly but steadily into the basement at home through a crack in the wall, a situation that seems to herald the novel’s catastrophic dénouement.
Huebert’s febrile narrative makes for a jittery read. Throughout, the author’s prose retains the restless, pulsating qualities that make his first two collections of short fiction so memorable and a delight to re-read. It seems reasonable to assume though that Oil People will inspire some degree of ambivalence in the reader. The quirks and obsessive behaviours of the characters who inhabit the poisoned and poisonous terrain of this novel draw us in and repel us in almost equal measure.
This is a minor caveat. In his first novel, David Huebert writes with great urgency as he presents his singular vision of a world in peril. He is not afraid to tell us how we got to where we are, and that alone is commendable. But he goes further, by providing a potent and eloquent warning that complacency will not see us through the current environmental crisis.