Fiction, 2021
Last year, one of my professors went on a rant about alternative history. She disagreed that it was any different from historical fiction. At the same time, I argued that it was a separate category altogether, providing space to explore the strands of potential outcomes that historical fiction was too restricted to do. The Trees is exactly the kind of alternative fiction I can get behind, where people’s worst impulses run rampant, and history comes back to life as a corpse with a vengeance.
In a small town in Mississippi, men are being brutally murdered. They’re found with barbed wire tied around their throats, genitals cut off, and most curious of all, another corpse resembling Emmett Till lies at every scene—holding a fistful of the dead man’s balls. As more bodies pile up, the local enforcement is unable to handle the situation, and two MBI agents—Ed and Jim—are called in. The characters are first introduced by their race, and a problematic categorisation of a young waitress leads to the detectives being embroiled deeper into the centuries-long social connections of the townspeople.
The Trees reminded me a lot of Disorientation, in that the most bizarre thing that could happen will always happen. Every character is a caricature in that their features are exaggerated to the point of ridicule, but Everett writes their relationships with such artistic tenderness, and such scholarly research, that they start to resemble people that you know. If the idea of cults, Twin Peaks, and your past (patterned racial violence) coming back to murder you sounds intriguing, then this is the perfect book. But beware, this is a space of deep discomfort.
Song - Strange Fruit - Billie Holiday
Film - Fargo