T.C. Boyle - When The Killing's Done

Warning: Spoilers Abound!

I just finished reading Boyle's latest novel and enjoyed it quite a bit. The story centers around the tussle between Alma, a National Park Servive biologist, and the out-of-control egotistical shard of flesh and bone known as Dave LaJoy, he the successful local peddler of hi-fi equipment created to render your inner ear a puddle of pounded membrane and soundwave-battered bone. And why is he at odds with Alma, this poor gal who only desires to rid the Channel Islands of the invasive rats and feral pigs thus restoring the isles to their more natural state? Because by chance our boy LaJoy happened upon a PETA-like flyer left behind by a customer at one his stores and for some reason the dang thing stuck, he instantly assimilated its decidedly militant cause, most likely because it was filled with anger and intolerance and yet exalted a purpose, and since he was already angry and intolerant (born that way it would seem) but in need of some kind of grand purpose - a way to vent, a method to work out his own madness - hence, his full unwavering support was all theirs whether they wanted it or not.

Midway through the novel we learn that by chance the forthright yet ultimately boring Alma (sorry but that's my final verdict) had actually hooked-up with the very non-boring Angry Dave on an innocent first date before the killing had really even started and the resulting affront to polite wine sippers (and especially their hosts) everywhere made me actually both cringe and giggle thereby generating the exceedingly rare yet always welcomed criggle. 

I think that my favorite part of the novel is the way Boyle depicts both characters back in their own natural environs and then exposes the flaws in their own thinking, Alma in a small yet deadly encounter with a poor squirrel on an onramp to the freeway, Dave in a larger (it would take something larger for a man like LaJoy) encounter with pesky raccoons digging up his new lawn and the resulting voyages he makes back out to the isles, the first to humanely allow these trapped troublesome critters to run absolutely free and the second with a group of like-minded thinkers (but is anyone here really thinking?) in hopes of cutting wire and liberating the wild pigs before they can be gunned down by Crocodile Dundee. The remains of Alma's dead squirrel and her conscientious objections fade away soon enough but the deep stains provided by LaJoy's fiasco remain forever plastered in the hearts and souls of mothers, fathers, siblings and friends.

TC must be mourning the loss of poor old Dave LaJoy who, in fact, met a very grave ahoy. When a writer creates a character as colorful and dreadlocked-dreadful as this guy it must be tough to toss him to the winds as the choppy waters froth below and then just watch him float forever away.

As the story worked towards its final conclusion I couldn't help but wonder where this might all end up. And then it appeared in my mind - how about a Steinbeck-ish closure to the tale as poor Alma, despite her obvious reservation, bends over our stricken Dave and commences to suck the rattlesnake venom from the small wound that rests just above his right ringed nipple in an effort to, at least momentarily, turn her back on her own precious cause in order to save the life of this last scandalous invader, her very own albatross and demented tormentor. I can see her now with a mouthful of the rancid venom as she watches the escaped snakes slithering off toward island destinations unknown, turning to Dave and spitting it back into his face, saying "that's a very piss-poor vintage Dave, spent engine oil - one might even say, VINEGAR!"

Well, TC had a different ending in mind, one that delivered unto Dave and his gang a more karmic wet ending, but at least the raccoons and snakes made out okay.

FWIW, my money's on those god-awful snakes.