Ducks, Newburyport
Peeling apple after apple for the tartes tatin she bakes for local restaurants, an Ohio mother wonders how to exist in a world of distraction and fake facts, besieged by a tweet-happy president and trigger-happy neighbors, and all of them oblivious to what Dupont has dumped into the rivers and what’s happening at the factory farm down the interstate ― not to mention what was done to the land’s first inhabitants. A torrent of consciousness, narrated in a single sentence by a woman whose wandering thoughts are as comfortably familiar as they are heart-rending in their honesty, Ducks, Newburyport is a fearless indictment of our contemporary moment.
Author: Lucy Ellmann | Publisher: Biblioasis
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Rating: 5 / 5
“Chuck, my shoebox full of Chuck’s letters in the attic, Malone, Molly Malone, the fact that the Ohio State Fair has piglet racing, piglet racing, Piglet, boarlets, a hundred billion chickens, Chiclets, “Buck up”, the fact that after Chuck, I still believed in people getting together, but after Frank, not so much, the fact that Leo cured me, the fact that Leo makes me feel better about everything, Paris, hummingbirds, baguettes, symbiosis, osmosis, two-car garage, the fact that it takes guts to love somebody and I just lost my courage there for a while, panthers, pearl tea, bubble tea, the fact that Stacy used to like them when she was younger, tea bubbles, not panthers,”
Ducks, Newburport is, without a doubt, the most creative and interesting book I have read in a very long time, perhaps ever. The premise of the book — 1,000 pages written in one sentence — sounds like it would be obnoxious, but it’s absolutely not. It’s surprising, and engrossing, and heartbreaking, and emotional, and genius. And I enjoyed literally every page. I’m not surprised it was shortlisted for the Booker Prize. I am, however, shocked that it did not win.
The style of the quote I included above is how nearly the whole book is written: a single stream of thoughts and word associations, written as a single run-on sentence, broken up by commas and “the fact that.” Through this monologue, we learn more and more about our narrator and her life. Her stream of consciousness is broken up every once in a while (perhaps every 50-75 pages, although it’s not uniform) by short bursts of narration (this time written in short, declarative, powerful, punchy sentences) about a nearby mountain lion and her cubs.
The reader spends all 1,000 pages rooting for the narrator, wanting desperately to hug her, cheering her on, wondering how the mountain lion comes into all of this. And by the last page, the reader is reeling, bursting, applauding, and feeling just all the emotions.
The narrator is very socially conscious, dwelling on climate change and gun violence and animal abuse and all sorts of things about society today. And she doesn’t have a lot of self-esteem, but through all this we come to know her as a fierce, loving, protective mother who deserves a lot more credit than she gives herself. I read an interview with Lucy Ellmann once where she basically said, yes, I am trying to shock you with all this stuff, and no, I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable. Lucy, you succeeded, and you are a genius.
I read 15 pages of this book a day over several months, and that format worked pretty well for me. I highly recommend it to absolutely anyone who appreciates creativity in writing, who is looking to be moved, or who is looking for a literary challenge in 2020. Ducks will ask a lot of you, but it will reward you for your time and effort, I promise.