GOOD TROUBLE, THE DEAD, AND THE ABANDONED MINE
There's something to be said about a story presenting itself as a Western, involving a literal ghost as a main character... and getting so caught up in the horse-adjacent narrative that you forget that it's doused in supernatural elements, from the very start. One of the main characters is a ghost! That's as much of a ghost story as you can get, and somehow that failed to get through to me. There's something to be said about that experience and my prior comments on "genre being marketing." Perhaps, being so literal with a label ("a ghost story") that it stops feeling like one? I'll think on it. [1]
Much of the anxiety I last wrote about has not settled. If anything, it only seems to compound with each chapter, as the heinous accusations of the villain and his family continue to build. Every time they need something covered up, or try to gloss over a previous calculation, the negative result is able to be spun into another crime of Kalin's. It's so darkly beautiful, in a way. Like, every time I read the name of Old Porch, I can't help but think, "you son of a bitch." There's an incredibly well done method of establishing an antagonist, all through word of mouth, internal monologues, his actions, the air of dirty legacy throughout his family and their discussions.
MZD does a great job of building a bastard.
On the other hand, however, Tom’s Crossing does continue to paint a lovely portrait of everyday people having ordinary lives, and creating their own little bits of beauty in their routines. We see Kalin's reasoning for certain choices and his patience with Landry, who can have a temper and a little bit of a meanstreak, but isn't an antagonist. We receive wisdom through Tom's words to Kalin and their labored communication. You get the sense that Kalin is continually doubting his presence, but nonetheless committing to it. There are numerous references and quotes from people discussing this whole story, completely separate from it.
In a way very similar to House of Leaves, on almost every page is the equivalent of a footnote, about some piece of art, or scholarly commentary, or "man on the street" like observations from other people in the world talking about Kalin's journey and alleged crimes. At one point, there's a quote that was apparently spoken in the 2030's, which immediately made me stop and go... "when is this account of the story from the 1980's supposed to be taking place?"
Oddly enough, at just about this point of the story, about one third through the book, two vivid instances of the supernatural (or just plain weird...) completely gripped me. [2]
These "outside" characters (people commenting on the journey but weren't involved in the story, as if they were being quoted in a newspaper or for a book) were trying to recreate a scene that was just referenced. They were debating in what kind of formation the characters were standing when Kalin had had a profound experience (whether it was a dream or something else). This recreation of the scene, and their friendly arguing over the specifics, grew an audience at their, I believe it was, high school reunion. All of a sudden, other classmates and passersby took note of what they were doing, and spontaneously donned roles in the recreation themselves... and the narrative kind of explodes into the bizarre, listing who was at that reunion, who had wandered in, or who was in town... now suddenly play-acting this trance-like march of the dead, portraying pioneers and the town’s ancestors. It was super amusing and read like a fever dream.
All of this is to say, the scene that they were recreating was one that we, as the readers, had encountered first hand: Kalin and Landry's retreat into the mountain for shelter in the cold, into a haunted, abandoned mine, and have a terrible night of rest.
Without going into the specifics, faithful readers of MZD will likely love this scene. I couldn't help but feel loose (and sometimes incredibly on-the-nose) allusions or connections to his other canon. Vibes pulling from The Familiar, House of Leaves, even The Fifty Year Sword, and Only Revolutions felt at place here. I audibly gasped and then rolled my eyes at a bit when I turned a page and saw a listing of all of the people being discussed in this dream-like encounter in a dark place. And to think that I was going to get through this book without some sort of formatting quirk. Silly me.
So, the first third of the book has been a lot of fun. When anxiety and concern sort of drove the first part, action and then disgust with the antagonist had then taken over. Now, we are seeing what kind of foes we are dealing with, and are concerned with Kalin and Landry's well-being in the mountains. We are likewise contending with their mothers back home and their attempts at assisting in the legal issues that continue to blossom, thanks to Old Porch and his fellow rat bastards.
You feel for a lot of the characters, even some of the Porch clan (to an extent), and even if a lot of time isn't spent building them up, you do get an appreciation for the many, many side-characters in the town and in the world. Notably, members of the press, the police department, and a park ranger come to mind. Their overall parts to play may be minor or eventually significant, time will tell, but the little quirks that they have shared, through action or mannerisms or speech itself, make the whole world seem alive and breathing.
I'm still toying with the thoughts previously written about, whether the world feels wide-open or smothering and claustrophobic. I think the scale of the story makes it seem wide-open, but at the same time, with all of the narrative talking about it after the fact, does allow you to feel as if the whole thing is "contained" somewhere. We don't know the whole story, and certainly don't have a grasp on it, but perhaps feeling that someone, somewhere, might, doesn't make you feel so alone in the text. [3]
It feels sort of like reminiscing about the good old days, even when you're now wise enough to know that all of those days weren't all that good.