Dodgers – Bill Beverly

Normally I’m one of the first to bemoan the internet behemoths and their algorithms, but sometimes I just have to concede that there are some benefits to this Orwellian world we find ourselves in. It was one day before I went on holiday, I didn’t want to read anything already on my kindle, I was sick of the sight of the spines on my ‘to read’ pile and I didn’t fancy lugging a library book to continental Europe.

So I actually looked into the books Amazon was recommending for me.

Obviously there’s the self-published crime that I’m sure nobody reads, but mixed in there were a few decent looking novels inspired by my ongoing interest in rural noir. One caught my eye, for no other reason than I’d not heard of the book or author but the novel had won a number of awards after it’s 2016 release. One of the reasons I’d probably not came across the author was that it’s his first, and so far, only novel.

I guess what got my attention was that it was slipped in with the other authors I’ve picked up recently – William Gay, Micheal Farris Smith and James Crumley amongst others. I’m on the lookout for gritty crime novels set in an America that at once seems to be both criminal and honest. Outlaw communities that have a sense of honour and a belief in a sort of natural justice. Maybe it’s an America that doesn’t exist, but sitting here on my sofa in England there’s a romantic idea of a relatively untouched rural America that doesn’t seem to be modernising at the same pace as the rest of the west.

Think music by Hank 3, books by James Lee Burke and TV series like Ozark. This is where I’ve lost myself over the last few years.

So, Bill Beverly and Dodgers?

He’s white and the characters are black.

My first thought was to double check the reviews of the book incase I’d stumbled onto a politically correct manifesto masquerading as a novel. That would certainly explain all the awards. Relieved I found no evidence of that. Instead I found this quote of his:

There’s a whole tradition in American writing and film that mixes the crime narrative with almost a sort of romanticism.

That’s pretty much what I want in a book at the minute. Beverly collects beer cans and teaches American literature at Trinity Washington University so he seemed worth a punt.

The book itself has been described as The Wire crossed with Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. Black urban criminals taking a life-changing road trip through the Midwest.

The adventure is told from the perspective of East, a 15 year old gang banger from LA who has lost his bosses crack house in a police raid. Chastised and keen to redeem himself he accepts a job, as part of a team of four, to carry out the killing of a witness. For security there’s to be no mobile phones, no real ID, and each of the team members will only meet the others on day one. To avoid leaving a trail the killing will be carried out as part of a five day road trip in a van. No planes, no hotels and all bills paid in cash.

The four man team are actually boys. East, the exuberant Michael, tech wiz Walter, and East’s estranged younger brother Ty – a loose cannon and cold blooded killer.

Just before they leave, their crossed-legged, meditating drug boss says:

Don’t make no friends.

What follows is a journey that from the outset seems doomed. There’s four young criminals, stuck in a van together, trying to avoid attention as they pass through white rural communities where any type of black face attracts attention. Beverly creates characters with real depth and a humanity that makes for a compelling story – although I assume in real life the kind of kids who would kill a stranger for a few dollars would probably be one step up from rats.

In many ways that’s why I enjoyed this book so much. Whilst the morality of the proposed crime is never really questioned, the direction of each of the participants lives is central to the story. That’s why other reviews have described Dodgers as a coming of age story. That’s evident in the setting – a road trip – but also in the difference in the communities that the boys are used too. There’s a clear contrast between the lives of these urban blacks and the whites in the University towns and rural communities that they pass through. Lifestyles that the group can ignore, mock or take as inspiration.

Tensions build, violence erupts and East has to keep the team together to carry out a killing that he’s increasingly uncomfortable with. All the while trying to understand his impulsive and amoral 13 year old brother. There’s a constant, but subtle, reexamining of each of the characters lives. Micheal is the loudmouth who will probably talk himself into an early grave, Walter aspires to take his drug dealing from the ghetto to University and Ty will inevitably end up dead or in jail before he reaches adulthood.

Amongst this East has to question his return to LA. To a life of crime, a hopeless mother, an absent father and nights spent sleeping rough. For the first time his eyes have been opened to new possibilities. He’s sat and made polite conversation in a small town cafe, ate dinner with elderly whites and learned the satisfaction of earning honest money through honest work. Most importantly he’s ignored his bosses command to not make friends. Instead he’s built a strong friendship in an unlikely setting, based on trust and loyalty, virtues in short supply in the van.

The question then becomes whether or not East can help to kill a man and through this deed tie himself to his gang and ultimately to the larger criminal network behind them. It’s a powerful story, well written and a great find.