BONE BLACK

Carol Rose Goldeneagle. BONE BLACK. Nightwood, 2019.

I was looking on the cover for some clue, but the only hint is “a novel”. It seems to me more like “horror”.

This is the type of novel found in the basement rooms of men who carry automatic rifles into mosques and elementary schools. Justifications for violence as a solution to their emotional challenges. Shooters who are angry, convinced of their own superiority, rationalizing their criminal acts in whatever arguments best suit their distorted views. Living out their fantasies of revenge and vigilantism. Targeting. Entrapment. Death. Dismemberment. Disposal.

At first I respond to the title as a reference to the main character’s career as a potter, with bone black a glaze she creates for herself. And to the Saskatchewan setting, someone who knows and loves the land, including the Qu’Appelle Valley. Then, I notice the unpolished style. Almost total telling. Slip-sliding between tenses and POVs. Then I begin to think about the characters. Is this husband for real? I ask, Where is the protagonist? There is no character with whom to identify or even really to care about. The main character’s level of moral reasoning is so low as to be non-existent. The level of self-awareness is delusional. The idea that she is grieving, and that being an artist and being pregnant somehow give her a pass? Not to me.

I don’t even want to think about what a detrimental effect this story would have on reconciliation, were too many people to read it. The worst fears realized. That nothing is sacred, and that she does not even realize her desecration.