'Now came the part where you had to confirm your status as shiftless mendicant, and the government’s as hard-boiled benefactor.'
Ex-pat Jeffrey M Anderson is originally from San Francisco and surroundings, dropped down the coast to Santa Barbara for studies and degrees UC Santa Barbara in Economics and Russian and since that time has divided his life between California and Europe. Currently Jeffrey lives in North London and thus has become a complete ex-pat to the UK! A bit of a switch there, but then so is his book.
It is rare for a new author to make an impressive debut that takes the reader form the first page by signaling that here is a writer of substance: pay attention. Perhaps it is even more rare for that second novel to better the first, but Jeffrey has done that. He manages to tackle such subjects as that much hated 2008 financial debacle and bring humor into that dreary clime. For example, ‘The family in front of Clay were listening to a transistor radio, an analysis of the President’s speech urging Congress to approve a return to the gold-backed dollar. He sounded more angry than optimistic. This had been less than a month after the Meltdown, and the food lines had continued to grow. The disaster retained its B-movie values: the strange faces, more Felliniesque than famous, the cliché dialog, and a plot that strained credulity. Citizens shuffling forward to be fed, confused and accepting, like steers unaware of their meat pie futures. It had been such a quick fall. The knockdown blow, the world-wide stock market Meltdown. The US economy back up on one knee, like a boxer gathering his wits, and finding he had none. Not out cold, just too scrambled and lethargic to challenge gravity any more. A woman in line behind him said to her companion, “You know what this whole thing reminds me of? My divorce. That time before you give up, when you close your eyes and squeeze your hands into fists and will yourself to fall in love all over again.”
The author's synopsis distills the story best: `Lives can unravel quickly; nations even faster. In a double-punch, Clay Holloway’s wife, Madeline, decamps to Boston on a trial separation and the San Francisco company he runs is hit with crippling litigation. Next, the world economy collapses – in one day. The nation wavers between anarchy and civility; all systems are stop, Madeline now unreachable. If the country can’t be saved maybe his marriage can. Clay embarks on a perilous bicycle odyssey across a continent with broken communications, little fuel, and less confidence in its new currency or the government behind it. He grinds eastward against a shifting pageant of mountains, desert, and engaging characters until, just short of the Mississippi, a man in a ’57 Chevy materializes on the empty highway. Their encounter will change Clay’s mission—and the future of the country. Devil’s Divide is a witty, literate satire about national myth, identity, and the chaos lurking in the complexity of the modern world.’
Yes the story is interesting and demands to be finished, but the glory of Jeffrey's writing is the beauty of his prose. He is smart; his writing is smart. And he is a welcome, fast rising literary star.