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Our Happiness — Tom Jenks
An accidental killing and a crumbling marriage animate this stunning debut novel in the Southern Gothic tradition.
“A sheriff's car, unmarked, the color of putty, flashed along the fence row, cruising by. We could see the roof and hood, the the grill, the bumpers and wheels, the whole car at moments in the open spaces but, at this distance, not the man inside. I imagined whoever was in that car was looking for me, and one day it would pull into our lane and drive through the barnyard up into the woods and they'd start unpiling the stones. And then I'd run. I'd run so far no one could find me. I'd change my name from Carl Freeman to Charles Furmin. I'd change a digit in my social security number and get a job in the kitchen of a diner and make new friends. I'd call Kath from pay phones but she wouldn't answer. I thought about that all the time. I watched the cop car go by and remembered I had once sat handcuffed in the backseat of such a car on my way to a place called Beaumont. I would spend a hard year there for a barn fire I set, but that was before I turned eighteen and has all been erased and there's no record of it anywhere.” -- From Our Happiness
“Told in lyrical flashbacks . . . reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird and highly recommended.” -- Library Journal
“[Tom Jenks] expertly devises parent-child relationships [and] demonstrates a descriptive knack. . . . The rustic experience springs alive here.” -- Publishers Weekly
“A sheriff's car, unmarked, the color of putty, flashed along the fence row, cruising by. We could see the roof and hood, the the grill, the bumpers and wheels, the whole car at moments in the open spaces but, at this distance, not the man inside. I imagined whoever was in that car was looking for me, and one day it would pull into our lane and drive through the barnyard up into the woods and they'd start unpiling the stones. And then I'd run. I'd run so far no one could find me. I'd change my name from Carl Freeman to Charles Furmin. I'd change a digit in my social security number and get a job in the kitchen of a diner and make new friends. I'd call Kath from pay phones but she wouldn't answer. I thought about that all the time. I watched the cop car go by and remembered I had once sat handcuffed in the backseat of such a car on my way to a place called Beaumont. I would spend a hard year there for a barn fire I set, but that was before I turned eighteen and has all been erased and there's no record of it anywhere.” -- From Our Happiness
“Told in lyrical flashbacks . . . reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird and highly recommended.” -- Library Journal
“[Tom Jenks] expertly devises parent-child relationships [and] demonstrates a descriptive knack. . . . The rustic experience springs alive here.” -- Publishers Weekly
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