LAY YOUR ARMOR DOWN

In this stark Southern gothic, two Mississippi grifters grapple over the fate of a strange and elusive little girl.

The mercenary-like Burdean and vulnerable Keal first encounter her in a church where extreme violence has taken place—dead bodies sprawl on the ground around still-running vehicles. They find the girl, who is speechless, next to a frail old woman Keal just encountered wandering through the woods in the middle of the night muttering nonsense—a woman “lost in head and heart and soul” whom he has seen in clairvoyant nightmares so intense that he does all he can to avoid sleep. The grifters, who have been hired to deliver the girl to unseen culprits for unstated reasons, find someone she will talk to when they take her and the woman back to the woman’s house. The girl tells Cara, a victim of physical abuse who periodically drops by the house to look after the woman, that she [the girl] is “part of the hand of God.” “I believed something was wrong in the night and there is still something wrong in the night and it has gathered itself in the flesh and blood of that girl,” Cara muses. Plenty of blood gets spilled in this bleakly intense, darkly atmospheric novel—by shotgun, by raging wolf, by speeding car, by Cara’s 6-inch wooden crucifix. In full possession of what the man who hires Burdean and Keal calls “grim poetry,” Smith evokes “a dark so absolute that the light seemed to suck away into nothing,” the trickery of consciousness and the precariousness of living in “a world that offered no explanations.” For all that, Smith somehow locates hope in hopelessness, meaning in meaninglessness. To reverse something Keal says, when you care about the world, there is much to unravel, and doing so is part of being human.

An eerie, transfixing page-turner.