Redhead by the Side of the Road

Redhead by the Side of the Road

Previously, Vinegar Girl, by way of introduction, other than by literary street credit. Heard the author’s name, like, a lot. See her name in laudatory book reviews, terms like “classic,” and big displays in the stores.

“He’d liked how she hadn’t amped herself up at the sight of him. No sudden flash of teeth or zippy tone of voice.” Page 37.

Ah, the course of true love?

“He hated it when women expected you to read their minds.” Page 66.

It is unfair that a woman can write like that, but not a man.1

Family. It can be such a tough subject, to be the outcast, the prodigal son, at once, and the patriarch, too.

  • There was, at one time, one unfortunate woman, I was sort of dating, and I dragged her back to my family for a holiday. Poor woman, never had a chance, took her as a buffer, like throwing a perfectly good Christian to the lions, for the sake of entertainment.2

Family, huh.

“He liked his family a lot, but they made him crazy sometimes.” Page 92.

All the time? Never mind, rhetorical.

There was nothing particularly outstanding with the characters, the setting, the way the narrative unfolded, and the setting itself, other than an obvious intimate love of the immediate surroundings, and the chaotic nature of that outsider child, the putative protagonist. Less of hero, and in my mind more closely aligned with an anti-hero type, but then again, nothing remarkable.

Reading, though was a thoroughly pleasurable. The balance, the cadence, the imagery evoked, and the way it felt, and wry observations about manhood, family, and expectations. The set-up is just unnerving enough to spoke all males, and maybe all people, of a certain age. Nightmare or dream come true?

Impossible to know, just a slim little volume, a lazy day’s read, and pleasurable without being too overbearing, or fraught with symbolism, and thankfully, devoid of obvious political commentary.

Vinegar Girl made a lot more sense as the timbre, the gently loved, worn-out landscape of the neighborhoods, the environments, and their people? Fits like comfortable sweater on a cool fall night.

Redhead by the Side of the Road

Redhead by the side of the Road


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  1. Joke time!

    Men complain that women don’t arrive with an instruction manual, but women point out, men never read the instructions.

    Sexist humor, sorry. I’m old — I could care less.

  2. It’s just a pointless aside by me.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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