lessons in great writing: voice & Perspective
Barbara Kingsolver just won the Pultizer in fiction for Demon Copperhead, a modern reimagining of David Copperfield set in the Appalachian mountains of Kentucky. Premise: Before Demon was born, his Dad died; his mother died of a drug overdose when he was a child, sending him into the foster system under the protection of exploitative or conditionally supportive adults.
It’s a well-deserved prize. She masterfully brings Demon to life as a witty, heartbreaking, and raw narrator. Here’s just one gorgeous passage that shows the specificity Kingsolver has developed in Demon’s voice. You’ll see Demon’s wry observations of his social services caseworker excoriate the collective values in his region (and in the U.S. generally) as manifest by budgets and spending, and in doing so, igniting my own passionate feelings:
“Maybe some kids are told from an early age what’s what, as regards money. But most are ignorant I would think, and that was me too. If you had a job, you had money. If you didn’t have a job, you had your food stamps or EBT card and basically, not money. Now I know, if you finish high school, that’s supposed to be a step up, moneywise. College is another step up. But the main thing is, whatever you’re doing, who is it making happy? If you are making a rich person happy, or a regular person feel rich, aka better than other people, the money rolls. If it’s lowlifes you’re looking after, not so much. And if it’s kids, good luck, because anything to do with improving the life of a child is on the bottom. Schoolteacher pay is for the most part in the toilet.
“So Miss Barks is working her little heart out for the DSS. And hitting the books at all hours because she pretty desperately wants to live in her own tiny apartment, and for that she needs to climb up the paycheck pole to first-grade teacher. That’s how they pay you at DSS. Because DSS pay is basically the fuck-you peanut butter sandwhich type of paycheck. That’s what the big world thinks it’s worth, to save the white-trash orphans.”*
Can we just bask for a moment in Kingsolver’s beautiful writing here? The clarity of voice is completely loyal to her character. She illuminates a ubiquitous crisis from the vantage point of a kid at the center of it. It’s a social commentary, but you’re fully immersed in the perspective of the kid. You see his world as he sees it.
And now: My ignited feelings.
These scathing paragraphs (which I condensed a little for space) capture exactly how I feel about so much public spending in the U.S. It’s a major reason I left the church I grew up in. You can say you value something, or care about something, or send up your thoughts and prayers for something, but will you spend some of your limited financial resources to protect or nourish it? I can’t hear your words over the din of your wallet.
Remember the explosion of praise for teachers and public school personnel during the first lockdown year of the pandemic? Our teachers are essential workers! I never realized how hard teachers’ work is! Our society will crumble without our public schools! Heartwarming videos of teachers going to great lengths to help their students flooded my instagram feed.
Then restrictions were lifted and kids went back to the classroom and teachers are now working harder than ever, not only teaching core subjects but handling children’s trauma, families’ degraded financial situations, receiving extra work load because of budget cuts and staff shortages. The praise faded away as quickly as it sprouted and didn’t translate into one extra cent being reallocated toward public education. In fact, our NYC mayor slashed public school spending when he took office in 2022.
But it’s worse now, because no one can still pretend we don’t know what teachers and schools do. The pandemic stripped away any pretty facade masking our true values in this country: education (for all) isn’t worth proper funding. But arise a military need? Bada bing, bada boom, we cough up the cash.
You know the writing is effective if you recognize truth in it, or see yourself in some way, that it calls up feelings and experiences from your own life and makes your blood boil.
So all this to say, go out and pick up a copy of Demon Copperhead—a charging story with dynamic characters, damning social commentary, and mighty fine writing.
*Kingsolver, Barbara. Demon Copperhead. New York: Harper, 2022. Pp 165-6.