Smonk
Tom Franklin’s SMONK can be described as a Gothic Western, one which I found to be more miss than hit. And I love Westerns.
The title refers to one E.O. Smonk (the E.O. stands for Eugene Oregon), a rapist. In the year 1911, Smonk is on trial in the town of Old Texas, Ala. The author really never clarifies the reason for the trial, which looks to be a setup just to kill Smonk. But Smonk figures this out and lays waste to the whole town with the help of a brand-new invention called the machine gun. On his escape, he takes the baliff’s son with him as a hostage.
The story then switches gears in a major way, with the introduction of Evavangeline, a teenage whore in a neighboring county who is so flat-chested, she is mistaken for a man throughout the book – the first time being when a group of Christian deputies break in on her and a customer. We follow her adventures being incorrectly thought of as a male by men who want to have sex with her and by cowboys who try to rape her.
Meanwhile, Smonk leaves the kid on his own, giving him a knife and telling him to go away. Having heard of an orphanage where the kids can have sex and do whatever they like, the kid takes this deal. He and Evavangeline meet at the orphanage, which is really a white slave trade operation, in which the husband-and-wife team running the show steal ‘n’ sell the kids for high prices.
The book is all over the map, with long passages about Evavangeline’s past and Smonk hiding out from the law. Once it comes back to the town of Old Texas and we learn its dark secret, I could not have cared less. Had Franklin stuck more to the story and plot instead of simply having characters disscuss bodily functions every chapter, SMONK might have emerged a winner. The town’s so-called “secret” isn’t even shocking – just disgusting, involving women so deluded by one of their town elders and his bizarre visions. Other mysteries are revealed to tie it all up in a little package, but this just makes it more farcical, in my opinion. Franklin tries hard to establish a mood of creepiness; it’s just not the right kind of creepiness. –Bruce Grossman
[...] We here at BOOKGASM like to review books that we are already inclined to like. It’s a philosophical thing, really. While it’s fun and easy for me to review a book about, say, gardening, just to make fun of the hobby, the end result is very little of value is passed on to people who might actually enjoy such a book. All the more sad, then, is Bruce Grossman’s assessment of Tom Franklin’s SMONK, a noirish Western that Grossman says is all about ill-conceived weirdness that never really gets under his skin. Much like this column. [...]
I couldn’t disagree more with the review. I actually wonder if the reviewer even read the book or just skimmed over it and took DIY Cliff notes as a couple of the plot points cited as examples are completely wrong.
What I found most unique about the book is that it’s a western (or “southern” if it pleases the author better) that takes a decidedly and unforseen gothic turn for the last 50 pages. It’s The Outlaw Josey Wales with a Tales From The Crypt twist. A nice surprise to say the least.
I loved Franklin’s other works as well (Hell At The Breech and Poachers) and recommend this along with both of those.
I did read the book and I never just skim the books. I just did not enjoy it as much as you did. As far as the last 50 pages. Thats not really a Tales From The Crypt twist since those are more gotcha type affairs. Not lets throw in a bizzare twist of sex to excite the readers.