I'll make this brief. This book is a treasure. A joy. A nearly perfect tonic to our stress-filled, anger-inducing, fearful times. You can skip the rest of this review if you like. (I know, I know: I just said this about another book. Still, I stand by it.) Just get your hands on the book, that's all I really want to say.
"Red Sky at Morning" is a coming of age book -- considered by many to be a classic of the genre, in fact -- but the main character (teenager Joshua Arnold) is a lot smarter, funnier, and infinitely more likeable than Holden Caulfield. A lot more fun to spend time with. The book is set during World War 2. As it opens, Josh and his family live in Mobile, Alabama. There's also an insufferable guest (Jimbob Buel) who never leaves and whom Joshua despises as a leech. (One day he says to Jimbob, "If Grant’s artillery had been a little sharper they might have hit your house and killed your grandfather, and stopped the whole useless line of Buels right there. Worst mistake of the war.")
Life goes on as usual until one day Dad announces, to Mom's outrage, that he's enlisted in the US Navy and will be deployed. Because their living along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico puts them at risk from enemy submarines, the rest of the family (and permanent hanger-on) will have to move to Corazon Sagrado in New Mexico, where they've spent summers. The book recounts Josh's experiences there, the friends he makes, and that hard realizations that come to him with experience. Following Josh as he navigates his way around his new school and his new town is a fun ride, filled with adventure and danger and flirtation and... just lots of good stuff -- a story very well and engagingly told.
"Red Sky at Morning" is a very funny book. I laughed aloud at Josh's description of an assembly where a self-important therapist (of highly questionable morality addresses his all-male audience with "Hello, boys and girls. I say girls because some of you, whether you know it yet or not, have a preponderance of female emotional characteristics and will someday be, if you have not already become, homosexuals. Or, as you would say, fruits." After which a sex ed movie called "Classic Luetic Symptoms, Series 13, U.S. Public Health Service is shown. Why? Because it has come to the attention of school administrators that "a few students have been... uh... anticipating the marriage ceremony and have actually been... uh... engaging in -- I know this will shock you, but I'm going to say it -- sex practices. Yes, sex practices! It's too revolting to think about, but it's the truth." (I know I was shocked!) The movie is every bit as hokey as one would expect. If you're of a certain age, you can easily envision the black and white film clicking in the projector and the stern voice of the narrator. After noting how syphilis is increasing "as fast as the population of India," he pleads for "compulsory Wassermann tests and the music, 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic,' swelled to a climax as the movie ended and the lights came on."
The humor is fun in its own right, to be sure, but it is used to serious effect. Yes, it shows who Josh is and what he's thinking, but it's also used to skewer the racism, bigotry, and pretentiousness he sees in many of the adults around him. Josh is clearly aware of how warped the racial hierarchy of the South is. "With my grades," he remarks, "I’ll be lucky to get into the University of Alabama, and all you need there is a couple of sworn statements that you’re white.”
Mom in particular has issues (more than one, in fact: she has a drinking problem that worsens as the novel progresses, driven by her hatred for Corazon Sagrado and its population). Sometimes what she says is just patently ridiculous: "Do you know that she’s Jewish?” [mom says] “I thought her father was the Episcopal minister,” I said. “He is,” she said. “That’s just the point. That’s the first thing they do, become Episcopals.” “Well, if they’re Episcopals, how can they be Jewish? I mean, if you switch from being a Baptist to being a Methodist, you’re not a Baptist any more.” “I don’t care how Episcopalian they pretend to be. I don’t care if one of them becomes the Archbishop of Canterbury.” At other times, her remarks cross the line from risible to deplorable. She's a hard person to like.
Other adults too are targets of Josh's/Bradford's scorn. The afore-mentioned therapist, for example (what a piece of work he is!), and a guy named Cloyd who fakes accidents so he can sue people and who threatens to shoot boys who take advantage of his daughters. (About those daughters... Josh goes on a date with one of them. "It's pretty up here, isn't it?" I said, making some of the brilliant drawing-room repartee for which I am famous on three continents. "If you're gonna try to make out, you better not talk," she said. "I don't like a lot of conversation."
And then there's a local eccentric -- a big donor to the school, and so someone who must be indulged -- who each year speaks to the students about Native Americans and their "traditions": “Once [she tells them] the Indians were a proud race, and the arrows in their quivers were many. They trapped the tender rabbit in their snares and hunted the wily buffalo.” “Oh, come on,” one of the Indians behind us whispered. “I got a couple of Guernsey cows that are wilier than a goddamn buffalo.”
There are, of course, numerous adults in the book who are goodhearted; unsurprisingly they tend to be the people whom Mom looks down on. And Josh's friends are a hoot: "As Marcia put it, his balls were in an uproar, an expression she’d evidently picked up in her father’s Episcopal Bible Class." Another friend, Steenie, son of the town's obstetrician, shares fantastic stories about his own medical expertise and combat training. And Chango, whose real name is Maximiliano Lopez and who is not at all what Josh (and the reader, for that matter) takes him to be.
I could go on. "Red Sky at Morning" is filled with interesting people and situations, with a big heart and a laudable sense of right and wrong. It's not all funny set pieces and sardonic asides; there is a serious purpose beneath the story, and dark realities show themselves more than once, sometimes to devastating effect. But in the end it really comes down to this: I loved the book. It's funny and touching, a joy to read. It made me feel better every time I picked it up. I can't recommend it highly enough.