The Books: “Hunts in Dreams” (Tom Drury)

Daily Book Excerpt: Adult fiction:

Hunts in Dreams – by Tom Drury

My sister Siobhan turned me on to this writer – she adores him – and she gave me this book for Christmas some years ago. It tells the story of a family, over a particularly intense 4 day period – and one of the cool things about the book is that it switches narrative points of view. We’re inside Charles – the father – or we’re inside Micah – the young son … Lyris, the daughter – or whatever. I read one of the Amazon reviews that said: “You could call this novel warm and funny and you wouldn’t be wrong, although wry and weirdly edgy is probably closer to the mark.” I like that. It’s not angst-ridden, but it’s certainly not without its bleakness either. And Drury knows how to write dialogue – it’s quite amazing, actually – you can hear the voices so clearly. It doesn’t feel like you’re reading when you read his dialogue – it feels like you’re eavesdropping.

The excerpt below is a great example. This feels like a totally real conversation to me. And also: hmmm, how to put this. It feels like nothing is going on – at first – it’s just some banter in a tavern. But there’s an edge to it. Something is underneath. And Drury does this without saying a WORD of narration. It’s in the dialogue itself. You can FEEL it, rather than just read about it. I looooooove dialogue like that. It’s a rare rare writer who can pull it off.

Like: “when the pickled egg was king” ????

Funny!

EXCERPT FROM Hunts in Dreams – by Tom Drury

Earl the deputy stopped by the tavern a couple hours into his nightly rounds. A sign on the wall said that the maximum number of people allowed on the premises was ninety-five, but there were only seven in the tavern, counting the bartender. “How’s the old shillelagh?” he asked Earl.

“No complaints,” said Earl. “Give me a Pepsi and a pickled egg.”

The bartender uncapped a jar of brine and reached in with tongs. “I’m thinking of discontinuing these. We hardly sell any of them.”

“Not like the old days,” said the deputy, “when the pickled egg was king.”

The bartender put the egg on a sheet of wax paper and handed it over. “Why, the sidewalk would be jammed with people, each with their own egg.”

“That was the heyday of the steam-powered adding machine.”

“Now everything’s changed except the jokes.”

“Old jokes for old men.”

“All maintenance, here on out.”

“How true.”

Earl took the egg and the Pepsi to the back of the tavern and pressed coins into the metal sleeve of the pool table. The cast-resin balls rattled down the open shelf. He walked around the table, setting up trick shots. He ate the egg, which had the consistency of glue.

The young man named Follard came over and put quarters on the rail for a game of last-pocket. Follard shot from a crouch, peering over the edge of the table.

“You guys break up a party tonight?” he said.

“Not me.”

“Then who would it have been?”

Earl shrugged and sank a bank shot he had no business making.

“Well, I heard some kids got their keg taken from a party at the Elephant.”

“Entirely possible, but it’s nothing I’ve heard of,” said Earl. “And these were cops that did it?”

“So it was told to me,” said Follard.

Earl took a five-dollar bill from his shirt pocket and folded it into a sleeve, which he slid down the cue, ferrule to joint. “What am I again?”

“Little ones.”

“I can’t even remember what I am. That’s where my head is at.”

“I got a knife off them.”

“Off who?”

“The ones who told me about the party.”

“They just offered it up. Out of generosity.”

“Out of something. They don’t know where it went.”

“Well, Follard, what’d you take it for? You see, this is how you get in trouble.”

Follard reached under the table for the bridge.

“The ladies’ aid,” commented Earl.

Follard held the butt of the bridge in one hand and fitted the cue intently into the brass notch. “To tell you the truth, I don’t even know why I did it.”

“Don’t think I won’t run you in.”

“For a little jackknife? Put it this way: it would surprise me.”

“Let me see it.”

“I gave it to a girl.”

Earl folded his arms with the cue against his badge. “I ought to rough you up or something.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. Like it would be an ounce of prevention.”

“Well, she’s more deserving than the one who lost it. In a sense, I did a good thing.”

“I doubt it,” said Earl.