The influence of Cormac McCarthy is strongly, if gallingly, present in Phil LaMarche's otherwise solid debut. LaMarche opens with an epigraph from McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses, a reference to scars that seems somewhat too obvious, given the main character's bad habit. LaMarche's most significant nod to McCarthy similarly, and also pointlessly, hits the reader over the head: throughout the novel, he refers to his adolescent protagonist simply as "the boy" -- much like "the kid" in Blood Meridian. Yeah, I get it: Ted is young and inexperienced, but he's also an everyman (everyboy?). These are annoying and derivative touches LaMarche need not have used, for his book would have succeeded just as well without relying on someone's else bag of tricks.
In what is essentially a new take on the old coming-of-age story, Ted LeClare, a rising freshman at a big regional high school in rural New England, loads the rifle involved in an accident that leaves a friend dead. (The friend's brother actually pulls the trigger.) Ted's mother urges him to deny loading the gun, and so he does, thus inciting Ted's descent into self-mutilation, violence, sex, and drugs as he seeks some kind of redemption and searches for his identity in the wake of the tragedy. He becomes tied up with a right-wing gang called American Youth, whose members are almost cartoon-like in their philosophical mutterings about states rights and guns. And Ted must contend, as must the other characters, with his hometown's changing demographics. Although it is currently experiencing an economic downturn, new residents from Boston have been flooding into the town, transforming land into upscale housing developments and bringing their more progressive values with them. (I was reminded somewhat of Russell Banks' Affliction, in which a similar tension is at play in a rural New England town.)
In short it is a recipe for disaster for a fourteen-year-old -- or anyone, for that matter. Much of the book seems very run-of-the-mill, like the cigarettes Ted sneaks or his awkward sexual encounters. But his moral and psychological development has its ups and downs and surprises, but LaMarche succeeds in making it believable. LaMarche errs in drawing so heavily from Cormac McCarthy, but his potential as a serious writer shines through. I look forward to reading him as his writing matures.