I’m compelled to compare LaValle to Stephen King, especially the domestic novels. Like King, Victor LaValle ably mines the struggles of ordinary families, and intertwines extraordinary circumstances, via supernatural horror and gristle. He does this to emphasize bitter realities—a palimpsest of fractured Maurice Sendak fables, with strained domestic life that ironically underscores rather than distracts from everyday family problems. What I like better about LaValle is that he does it without platitudes, but still executes a fantastical morality tale. Or is it a cautionary tale? I don’t want to reveal what the reader will discover inside these pages.
It starts with the love of a Ugandan immigrant, Lillian Kagwa, a statuesque beauty, and a white parole officer, Brian West. They meet in NYC, marry, and have a son, Apollo. But, unfortunately, Brian leaves—vanishes—when Apollo is just a child. Lillian’s love and formidable endurance carry on, raising Apollo with commitment and strength, albeit with a few mistakes. But it was difficult being a single mother in New York in the 70s and 80s.
After Brian vanishes, Apollo has a specific and recurring nightmare about his father, which introduces the dreamlike, supernatural elements of the book. Complete with steamy clouds and vapor, his father both frightens and promises him with his presence and absence. There was also the day that Brian leaves a gift—a box of memories—at the door, which just ratchets up the immediacy of the subsequent dreams.
Tucked in the box among the various memorabilia is a children’s book by Maurice Sendak. Outside Over There, which Brian nightly read to Apollo when Apollo was a wee child. If you are familiar with this tale (not as well known as Where the Wild Things Are), then you have a jump start on the narrative’s parable—or a parable of a parable. I was not familiar with it, so the gradual reveal was another nugget of surprise for me.
Apollo becomes the main protagonist of the story. He become an antiquarian book dealer, naming his business Improbabilia, and traverses all the NYC boroughs and sometimes beyond in order to seek out great finds. He meets, falls in love, and marries the lovely Emma Valentine, and they have a son. The birth scene alone has cinematic optics.
As the tale settles on Apollo and Emma’s life with baby Brian, the suspense escalates with the creepy chill of things that go bump in the night—or broad daylight. LaValle keeps the narrative propulsive with a superb plot and rich characterizations. The 400+ jumbo-sized pages never feel cumbersome, because you’ll be too busy turning them with relish. The climax is both classic and contemporary, with ancient myths and modern technology fused together. But LaValle has utter control of his themes—of courage in devotion to family, and the lengths we will take to protect the people we love. I felt fatly satisfied when I finished this extravagant tale.
Random fact: Interesting that Maurice Sendak features in another book being published this year, Julia Glass’s A House Among the Trees, a very different kind of book than LaValle’s. But it is intriguing to me, this fact of Sendak in both novels.