Brian Brett
is one of those writers hanging out on the edge of fictional
possibility, and
while he occasionally slips over, the trippy journey is never dull. Coyote: A Mystery, his new novel,
ricochets around the conventions of narration and blows most of them up.
Coyote is a
legend – an eco-terrorist who has snuggled down on a fictional
What’s
compelling about Coyote, however is the eco-terrorism. Brian gets
Coyote to
recount his past (animal liberations which result in the deaths of
animals, for
example) plus other acts of sabotage which attract the press but
apparently not
much change. It’s impossible to know whose side Brett is on here; he’s
taking a
hard look at everyone and no one comes off unscated. At one point, he
even
takes on himself and the style/arrangement of the novel: “I’ll give you
love
and murder, and the ecology of life as we know it – you and I – awkward
and out
of tune with the world, angled like arrows entering water.” Brett
frequently
uses the motif of lying and storytelling, so readers are constantly
having to
look at their feet to check their placement on the ground. He succeeds
beautifully in a constant process of unsettling.
Coyote must
be read with a completely open mind about the possibilities of fiction.
It
works backwards and forwards in time, and it loops around crazily. It
has
devastating wit, and what makes that wit even more arresting is the
lack of
clarity about where the bar is aimed (I think this technique is planned
perceptively.) Brett’s novel may totally grab you, or it may infuriate
you, but
it will definitely make you thing – about love, about ecology, about
writing.
Coyote was hard to put down, as much for its language as its plot.
Candace Fertile, Monday
Magazine.