The Poison Flood by Jordan Farmer (review)

Abstract

Reviewed by: The Poison Flood by Jordan Farmer Randi Adams (bio) Jordan Farmer. The Poison Flood. New York, N.Y.: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 2020. 288 pages. Hardcover. 4. Through the first-person narration of Hollis Bragg, guitarist and secret songwriter for a popular mainstream band, Jordan Farmer presents a story of murder, environmental destruction, music, love, and identity. The Poison Flood, Farmer’s second novel, is hyperfocused on a week-long string of events that take place in a small West Virginia town. Hollis’s unique perspective is informed largely by the outsider status he has incurred due to his hunched back. The plot of the novel lurches forward when Hollis’s self-inflicted reclusivity is shattered by a fan and an environmentalist zealot just as a chemical spill leaves the county’s water poisoned and the region in crisis. The dangers Hollis faces in relation to the contamination and the violent fallout force him to reckon with his sense of self, his relationships with women, and the isolation and anonymity he has been hiding within. [End Page 104] As is common in Appalachian literature, The Poison Flood exhibits a self-awareness of Appalachia’s role in American consciousness. Hollis, unsurprised by the lack of aid following the contamination, tells the reader, “In many ways, we’ve always been on our own, addressed only when the rest of the country requires our resources or needs something to mock.” Farmer expertly parallels this exploitation on a micro-level as we see the county, full of people who have mythologized Hollis as a monster, come to rely on him for his unspoiled well water. It is a poignant metaphor for a cruel and all-too-true reality. In some of his most beautiful prose, Farmer continually links Hollis’s body with place, furthering this metaphor. The novel’s most obvious antagonist is essentially an eco-terrorist which creates a dramatic sense of tension within the narrative given the plot is largely driven by an environmental disaster. It is an interesting choice by Farmer, who could have easily given the story a perfect martyr. Instead, via Victor’s violent zeal, Farmer asks the reader to interrogate their own sense of right and wrong. Yet Victor falls flat as a character. Perhaps he is too much; a voyeuristic and explosive persona in a uniform of a cowboy hat and spurs. Or perhaps he is not enough; with almost no background story, his zeal seems unearned at times. Victor’s believability especially falters in comparison to the novel’s other malicious extremist, Hollis’s father–the Reverend. Victor becomes a caricature of a villain, almost to the point of the unbelievable, making it difficult to see him as a true threat. While the novel is, on the surface, crime noir with an environmental consciousness, at its heart, it is a love story and a reckoning with identity. Music is a driving force for Hollis, but at an early stage in his life, it is secondary. He begins [End Page 105] making music because of and for Angela, whom he meets as a teenager. The pair bond over guitar lessons and Angela becomes Hollis’s escape from his abusive father and from the loneliness he faces. Music becomes a larger part of his identity later in life, after he leaves The Troubadours, the band he and Angela founded. Hollis derives much of his self-worth through his relationships with women–Angela, Caroline, and eventually, Rosita, using music as a means to foster these relationships. Even in catastrophe, even in potentially fatal situations, Hollis’s mind returns to the women in his life, his relationships with them, and their considerations of his body, or what he imagines as their considerations. In the most dire situations, Hollis ultimately wants to be desired and loved– something to which everyone can connect. It is in these moments, Hollis’s most vulnerable admissions, that Farmer’s candid, honest, and, surprisingly, tender storytelling functions at its best. Hollis’s relationship with his disabled body is in a continuous state of change. While it does lean toward resentment and apathy, Farmer makes it clear that perfect acceptance of one’s physical...