The Maid's Version by Daniel Woodrell is the maid's version not told by the maid. Here is an extremely short novel (around 160 pages) that is best read in one sitting if at all possible. I did not read it in one sitting and I sincerely wish I would have. The novel is sophisticated and almost poetic in its telling.
Alma is a strong woman who scares her grandson who eventually becomes to one to tell her story. Alma's theories and obsessive tendencies have led to a rift between herself and her son, and we find out bits and pieces of what caused this alienation between the two later on throughout the book. The book finally culminates in revealing the truth behind Alma's theory and we can feel satiated and freed from the restlessness we get from the format of the book.
The theories and obsessions of Alma are all relating to a dance hall explosion that killed her scandalous but beloved younger sister and countless others who were just out having a good time. The question the book poses is "who did it?" and "why did it happen?" Alma's theories hinge on one of her sister's torrid love affairs with an affluent member of society. Whereas Alma's low station in life as a maid whose family is severely poverty-stricken make her more irked at the supposed ease of those she works for, the truth is that those with money and power are actually the more guilt-ridden and miserable members of the Ozarks society.
Alma's son, John Paul, is not close to his mother and often shuns her and tries to keep his own son from being moved by his grandmother. Unfortunately, Alek, John Paul's son, originally frightened of his eccentric grandmother, becomes intrigued by her story and the stories of his father's family. Finally his father in a weakened state of recognition and acceptance puts a shaky hand on his son and says "Tell it. Go on and tell it." And so we start to hear the story of the Dunahew's, particularly Alma and her three sons, as well as her now dead sister who she grieves over doggedly.
Alma hated that she fed another man's children before she fed her own. On page 18 of this brilliantly poetic novel we get an overbearing sense of the class and socioeconomic issues that face Alma and those like her. We blatantly see the class discrepancies as Alma is forced to hide her employers' leftovers to bring home so her children can eat their scraps. Life in the Ozarks is not glorious and it is mentioned a couple times (or hinted at) that those on the bottom of the barrel must constantly work to earn whatever little they can. Alma was a mother-figure to her younger sister Ruby, a girl described as a woman who had known "poverty from birth but been blessed with pizzazz and understood early that life was a fight and she couldn't win even one round if she kept her best hand tied behind her back." She made her 'living' from loving men and discarding them when they bored her. Unfortunately the brute that she fell in love with was Alma's employer, and a man who Alma comes to abhor for what she believes to be his crimes. Alma's poisoned mind against this man comes to poison the minds of a few of her family members as well. The question comes to be throughout the novel ... was it this man who blew up the building that Ruby was in or was it one of the other unsavory and sometimes down-and-out characters of the small Ozarks town?
Once the disaster itself struck, the town came together in its grief. "The town was represented from high to low, the disaster spared no class or faith, cut into every neighborhood and congregation, spread sadness with an indifferent aim." At this point people of different classes come together, sing hymns, and Arthur Glencross, Alma's employer, sits his family next to hers in a gesture she'll never forget, but soon her suspicion of him will lose her her job with his family and her reputation in the town.
The town of West Table where she lived would grow tired of her accusations and her scorn, and so would her son, John Paul. After the loss of her two other children, the only one she had left to her would forsake her for the love of others who took him in when she was lost. She was "considered to have become crazy, her brain turned to diseased meat by the unchecked spread of suspicion amidst a while simmering and reckless hostility, a caustic sickness ..." When Alma was deemed uncivilized and crazed enough to be sent to a work farm, her son John Paul was abandoned and his anger and fierce determination became his only way to survive. John Paul's son is the one who recounts his family's tales and the other laments of the poor is this nonlinear story told to us in fragmented snapshots. The book reads as a million puzzle pieces thrown in the air, only to somewhat come together in the end.
The Maid's Version pulled me into a world I was not used to and into a town drenched in disaster which caused the unraveling of a woman who was once strong and unwavering. I would suggest it, but for myself it might call for a second read so I can gather the stories and details that I missed the first time around. This, as I mentioned earlier, is a very sophisticated piece of writing. You can tell that Mr. Woodrell has an incredible amount of skill, charm, sorrow and passion in his heart to write such a story, although I would not consider this to be a story. It is a retelling - an outpouring of the heart and a cleansing of the soul. It reminds me of the somewhat off-kilter book Me and the Devil by Nick Tosches ... although I kind of hated that book it also did not really tell a story with a clear beginning, middle, end and complete with a climax and rising/falling action. This book has no rising or falling action ... it just is. The disaster happened and we're left with figuring out those who were involved with it and those whose last moments disappeared inside a dance hall.
This struck me while I was reading it as a book that I would have read in college, or maybe in one of my literature classes I took in high school for college credit. It is full of passages and themes to be analyzed and would have fit in my disasters class in sociology at Augsburg College. In my disasters class we read a book called Everything In Its Path by Kai T. Erikson. In my opinion, it is the true story version of what happened to the people in The Maid's Version. In The Maid's Version a small town riddled with poverty is deeply affected by a dance hall explosion killing so many loved ones and leaving those behind with unanswered questions and longstanding frustrations. In Everything In Its Path we hear the true accounts of the destruction of community in the Buffalo Creek Flood. The back of the book describes it as this:
"On February 26, 1972, 132 million gallons of coal-black water mixed with solid mine wastes burst through a makeshift dam and roared down the Buffalo Creek, a narrow mountain hollow in West Virginia. One hundred twenty-five people were killed, and 4,000 out of the local population of 5,000 lost their homes. In the months and years that followed, the survivors of the flood experiences both a form of trauma induced by the disaster itself and a form of trauma that resulted from the loss of a tightly knit, nourishing community."
I would suggest if you're in the mood for a sociological novel that analyzes a real natural disaster, this might be a good accompaniment to the fictionalized tale of a disaster wrought by mankind in The Maid's Version.
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Buffalo Creek Flood Disaster |
I would recommend this novel as it puzzled and enchanted me in the most depressing and grievous way. Daniel Woodrell, the author, also wrote the acclaimed novel Winter's Bone, which was turned into a film and starred Jennifer Lawrence. It was nominated for four Academy Awards. I'm supremely tempted to compare this fragmented novel to his others, and so Winter's Bone is not only now a film which I must see, but also another book I must add to my list.
The Maid's Version harassed me, tormented me, and was captivating and marvelous. It is a dark story, simple in all reality, but filled with such complexities that my mind was boggled at the story snippets I was receiving page by page. Although it is a small book it packs a big punch with unparalleled relief at the end as it simply does just that ... it ends - with no fluff afterward, just the truth. At times I felt empty only to feel Alma's behavior become vindicated at the end.
Up next I'm debating between starting the Hunger Games trilogy and whipping through them quickly with delicious zest or diving into a book recommended to me by Scott's mother, Jody, called Orphan Train. I'll let you know my choice soon. Also ... isn't fall just the best time to read books? Simply the best.
Keep reading!