“He’d become an ingrown toenail, his own sex cutting into himself.” --from the novel.
I’m curious, I admit, about tattooing among the young, the bikers, the vets, the yuppie hipsters—and The Skin Artist takes me there thanks to Bill, a middle-aged business man with a failing marriage, who, having lost his job and scored (or about to) with a well-inked stripper, wakes up from an Xtreme drunk to discover a butterfly getting buzzed into his chest by a Tantric sex guru. It gets worse from there. It also gets better. And then worse. You’ll just have read it. I did. Let me restart this thing.
Who was it said that writers all end up sounding like the county they come from? George Hovis hails from Gaston County, North Carolina, as do the preponderance of characters in his novel The Skin Artist. Of late, though, George Hovis lives and teaches at the northern reaches of Appalachia in Upstate New York, where the terrain surely reminds him of home and grounds him in the earthy lives of his Gaston County citizenry. Most are multi-generational families dug into the wooded mountains, whether on inherited land or in broken trailers and poverty, though the principal characters, uprooted, seek their various fortune, escape and salvation in nearby Charlotte. The Queen City has its own forms of impoverishment in urban sprawl, upscale apartments, sketchy neighborhoods and piled up skyscrapers. Looming over everyone’s prospects, a watchtower of the world-capitalist economy, the sixty-story NationsBank building. Thus the novel opposes worlds-apart settings a few miles from each other, both predatory in different ways, both the scene of people struggling to make authentic lives against impossible odds.
Backwoods Gaston County is the haunt of Bill Becker’s ancestral family, the family that his lover Lucy never had but imagines marrying and settling into, though not with Bill. He had left his wife (as we’ve said), succumbed to alcohol and other intoxicants, and fallen for Lucy’s tattooed body, the masterpiece of Niall, guru of tattooing as prophesy, character analysis, and fate. When Lucy accompanies Bill home for a visit, she attracts the gaze of his younger brother, Wesley, the good brother who stayed home to care for their parents and grandparents. Equally smitten with Lucy, Wesley is poised to risk everything on becoming one flesh with her. But Lucy has ambition for her own skin artistry, to pull herself up from the skin trade, and neither Bill nor Wesley can follow her, even at a distance.
There’s much more to Bill’s fall from grace and Lucy’s redemption, and the drama all comes to a head at a Fourth of July cookout deep in the sticks involving too much homebrew, a jealous husband binge-watching homemade sex tapes, and, of course, the heirloom pistol.…that’s some party you don’t want to miss. I swear, I can’t keep up with these people, but it was worth trying.
Whatever’s in the moon shining above the waters of Appalachian North Carolina that produces an elect company of writers the likes of George Hovis could involve a distillation that puts a glorious fire in the belly of prose so good it ought to be illegal.