Brutally honest, one of those books that you start reading and instantly know it's going to be the best book you've read all year -- maybe in the last five years. Think a Frank Bascombe outlook on life meets John Cheever and a lot of unaware self-loathing, then you'll have your Peter Jernigan.

David Gates is a little arrival for me, but someone I'd have no problem putting next to Carver or Joy Williams. Jutting sentences, beautiful prose, dreary imagery and the best part -- it feels too real. Absolutely loved this novel and would easily recommend it to anyone who wants to ride an emotional roller coaster for a few days (oh, and it's pretty funny too). ( )

After Peter Jernigan's wife dies in a bizarre accident on the 4th of July, he drifts through a year of heavy drinking, largely ignoring his teenage son. Shortly after the first year anniversary of his wife's death, he meets and moves in with the mother of his son's girlfriend. She is what is called a "suburban survivalist"--she lives off the grid, heating with a wood stove, largely surviving by eating the rabbits she raises in her basement, growing a vegetable garden, and dumpster diving.

This book was described as "darkly funny," and I also somewhere heard it described as an adult Catcher in the Rye. I found it very sad, although I had a hard time connecting with it. It was not a book that grabbed me.

2 1/2 stars ( )

This novel is a swirling miasma of melancholia. In the beginning Jernigan is lying on the floor of a dilapidated trailer with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his hand. In between ingesting large quantities of gin, he recounts how he got to this lowly state. A beautiful masterpiece of sadness. ( )

I'm interested in the theme of alcoholism as it affects families. But this was just an interminable slog. ( )