Suder

‘Everett has mastered the movement between unspeakable terror and knockout comedy’ The New York Times David Larson can never go home. His parents are dead. His sister and her hippie husband, staunchly anti-war, won’t even have the newly returned Vietnam veteran in the house. So Larson takes his chances on the road, travelling west from Georgia until he breaks down in the nowhere town of Slut’s Hole, Wyoming. There he finds lodging with Sixbury, a one-legged sexagenarian widow, and her disabled son. Their ersatz family is complete when Larson takes in Butch, a Vietnamese girl abandoned at the highway rest stop where he works, but at the edge of this tableau lingers the ineluctable spectre of violence. Blending the grotesquerie of the Southern Gothic with the Western’s codes of frontier justice, in Walk Me to the Distance Percival Everett renders a vivid and haunting landscape of the American badlands, where cruelty is the lingua franca.