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book coverBroke Heart Blues

by Joyce Carol Oates

New York: Dutton, 1999

369 pages


Dust Jacket Blurb

One of our most incisive chroniclers of the human condition, Joyce Carol Oates has, with unerring skill, peeled back the fragile layers of ordinary life in contemporary America to illuminate the region she has carved out for her own: the secret geography of the heart, mind, and soul. In her newest novel, the acclaimed author of We Were the Mulvaneys and My Heart Laid Bare explores our never-ending hunger for heroes, the myths we create to assuage our loneliness, and the profound price we pay for our desires and dreams.

"John Reddy came to us out of the west.
John Reddy, John Reddy Heart. . ."

In the heat of a languid July, fresh from Las Vegas, John Reddy Heart drives into the quiet upstate town of Willowsville, New York. Eleven years old, piloting a traffic-stopping, salmon-colored Cadillac, he arrives with his stunning mother beside him, his grandfather and younger siblings in the backseat. His mysterious past has been left behind, but his legend is about to be born.

His mother is Dahlia Heart, a blackjack dealer of dubious reputation who always dresses in white. She has come to Willowsville to claim the rambling mansion left to her by one of her wealthy suitors. But it is John Reddy already growing into a heartbreaking hybrid of James Dean, Brando, and Elvis who will claim the town itself. It is John Reddy who will arouse the desire of Willowsville's teenage girls and the worship of its boys; the fear and envy of its men, and the yearning of its women. And it is John Reddy who will capture the town's soul forever on the night a prominent citizen is shot dead in Dahlia Heart's bedroom—and a statewide manhunt sweeps Willowsville's rebel outlaw into the realm of a living myth.

Over the course of thirty years, from the sixties through the nineties, Broke Heart Blues charts the rise and fall—and ultimate call to reckoning—of John Reddy Heart, through the myriad voices of those who find in him their whipping boy, savior, dream lover, and confessor. At once a scathing indictment of the cult-like nature of fame and celebrity in America, and a deeply moving meditation on human need and longing, it is a powerful and provocative achievement by one of modern fiction's most important storytellers.


Excerpt

bel airNo matter how many times John had seen the Glass Ark, he was never prepared for its strange glittering beauty.

The Ark was a shock to the eye. Then it was a shock, or at least a puzzle, to the mind: what did it mean? why did it exist?—not a single ark, in fact, for Aaron Leander had added to his original vision, but five arks of approximately the same size. Why had an aging man with no prior interest in art, or in craftsmanship, devoted so many years to piecing these fantastical structures together out of discarded bottles, glassware, strips of shiny metal, tin-foil, "gilt," stones collected from the beach? How did Aaron Leander Heart, who'd been a problem drinker until the last decade of his life, have the skill to create such elaborate, intricate designs? Had his vision really come from God?—but what was "God"? When they'd all lived in Vegas, John's rakish cowboy-styled grandpa had applied himself to poker playing and gambling schemes that rarely worked out. He'd been something of a ladies' man. He'd had an Old Testament temperament (as he liked to boast) but no religion—"Belief is for suckers, kid. The game is, to be what the suckers believe."

Reviews

  • Kirkus Reviews, April 12, 1999
  • Booklist, May 1, 1999, p1559
  • Library Journal, May 15, 1999, p127
  • Publishers Weekly, May 17, 1999, p55
  • Christian Science Monitor, June 24, 1999, p20
  • Seventeen, July 1999, p92
  • Wall Street Journal, July 16, 1999, pW4
  • Atlanta Journal-Constitution, July 18, 1999, pL12
  • Washington Post, July 18, 1999, pX03
  • San Francisco Chronicle Book Review, August 1, 1999, p1, 6
  • Times Literary Supplement, August 1, 1999, p21
  • New York Times Book Review, August 8, 1999, p26
  • New York Review of Books, August 12, 1999, p22-23

Epigraph

. . . Life is a dream a little less inconsistent.

—Pascal


Page address:
http://jco.usfca.edu/works/novels/broke.html

 
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