Bradley Denton - Blackburn

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From Publishers Weekly
Denton 's third novel (after Buddy Holly Is Alive and Well on Ganymede) takes the overworked serial-killer concept and wrings from it a striking depiction of middle-American despair, betrayed innocence, and transcendent hope. Jimmy Blackburn is a roaming murderer with an idiosyncratic moral code: he kills only those he feels deserve to die. His victims include cheating auto mechanics, bullying bosses and a thieving encyclopedia salesman. In intervening chapters, Denton traces Blackburn's childhood in small-minded small-town Kansas, in a home haunted by an abusive father, a world prescribed by casual cruelties and repressive, untrustworthy authority. Denton doesn't settle for facile connections between Blackburn's early years and his criminal turn, playing his life off against some Norman Rockwell vision of an America that never was. He portrays Blackburn's childhood not as unusually bleak or cruel, but as an all-too-common experience, so it's the reality of a mundane world-not some exceptional horror-that produces Blackburn the killer. And Blackburn himself is no simplistic figure of evil; he retains a sympathetic innocence, a stubborn hope, throughout his doomed journey, and his end yields a surprising sense of redemption. Denton 's hand never falters as he shows us an America of petty injustices and vanished dreams, where a sensitive Kansas boy can grow into a killer.
From Library Journal
Abused and unloved, Blackburn is a true victim of circumstance who devises his own strict moral code to guide him in all matters including whom and what to kill. On his 17th birthday, Blackburn shoots a cop who has just killed a dog in the town church. He then embarks on a career as a one-man eliminator of those who mistreat and prey upon others. Using stark, unadorned prose, Denton (Buddy Holly Is Alive and Well on Ganymede, Morrow, 1991) has created a modern-day parable illustrating the shades of good and evil and the meanings of life. Sometimes humorous but more often heart-wrenching, Blackburn delivers a knockout punch to rigid, self-satisfied thinking everywhere. Excellent.

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"Yes," Jimmy's mother said. "Yes, they did." She started to close the door. "Sleep tight, honey."

" 'Night, Mom."

"Good night." The door closed. The room was black except for yellow lines marking the door.

As Jimmy lay waiting for sleep, he heard Dad come home and say he was sorry. Jimmy listened hard, holding his breath, but didn't hear Mom answer. That made him mad. She should say something. Dad didn't like it when she didn't say anything.

Jasmine started crying then, and Jimmy heard Mom hurry to Jasmine's bedroom. But Jasmine only screamed. She was probably seeing monsters again. Stupid three-year-old brat. She would make Mom and Dad start fighting again.

And she did. It was worse than before. There was yelling and crying. Then something made of glass broke.

Jimmy put his head under the covers and started praying. He didn't pray in a poem this time. He prayed straight to Jesus and asked Him to make Mom and Dad stop fighting.

The yelling became louder. Mom was almost screaming like Jasmine. Jimmy realized that he wasn't praying properly. He got out of bed and knelt again, putting his hands together with the fingers pointing upward. That must turn them into an antenna, he thought. Beaming prayers to Heaven. He imagined his body as a radio transmitter. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed the same prayer over again. Please make Mom and Dad stop fighting. Please make them be happy.

There was a smack, flesh on flesh, and a thump. Then the front door slammed and the pickup truck started. Its tires spun on the gravel, throwing some against the house. It sounded like BBs hitting a sidewalk. The pickup roared away, the sound fading fast, leaving Jasmine's screams. Then those faded too, leaving Mom's sobs. Bawling, Dad would call it.

Jimmy stopped praying without saying amen. Something had gone wrong with his transmission.

He got back into bed. He was mad, but he wasn't sure at whom. Everybody, he decided. Every stupid body.

The first, second, third, and fourth graders filed into the auditorium, their teachers leading them to their seats. There were rustling and squeaking sounds as they sat. The teachers took the aisle seats. Somebody laughed, and a teacher gave a warning. Then, except for coughs and sniffles, there was silence. The principal, Mr. Sturner, climbed the steps to the wooden stage and stood in front of the curtain. He announced that the school had a special guest who would present a special program. It was important, he said, that the children be quiet during the program, because the special guest relied upon his sense of hearing. Any chatter could result in serious consequences. Mr. Sturner left the stage. The brown velvet curtain opened, revealing the blind man standing at the rear of the stage. He was wearing a blue suit and black-framed sunglasses. Sunglasses indoors looked pretty strange, Jimmy thought. The blind man put down his long white cane, then walked toward the front of the stage. He raised a hand in greeting.

He walked steadily. His head was tilted upward. He didn't slow as he approached the edge. It was four or five feet to the concrete floor. He couldn't see that he would fall.

Jimmy wanted to yell "Stop!" The girl beside him gasped, and so did others. Then they held their breath. They were afraid for the blind man. But no one said anything, because no one wanted serious consequences.

Somebody had to tell him, Jimmy thought. Somebody had to warn him that in two more steps he would drop off the stage. Why didn't one of the teachers do it? Why were they sitting with their hands folded, waiting for him to fall?

The blind man stopped with his toes at the edge of the stage. He smiled. The children let out their breath and murmured to each other. The teachers glared at them, and there was silence again.

The blind man spoke. His voice was loud and rhythmic, like an auctioneer's.

"I just heard a voice," the blind man said. "A soft yet commanding whisper in my ear. Do you know who it was?"

The children, fearful of the teachers, said nothing.

"It was the Lord Jesus, children," the blind man said. "I cannot see with my own eyes, so I rely on Him to guide me. And He never fails me, so I never fear. Just now He warned me to stop lest I fall and do myself injury. So tell me, children: Where on the stage have I stopped?"

"Right at the edge!" Jimmy shouted. Mrs. Porter glanced at him, but her expression was only the usual frown.

The blind man turned toward Jimmy. "Thank you, young man. I didn't doubt it. Jesus let me get as close to you as I could without falling."

Jimmy was amazed. He'd had no idea that Jesus spoke to anyone who wasn't in the Bible. He had seen blind people on TV, so that was no big deal-but not even on TV had he ever seen anyone that Jesus had whispered to.

"And I'm glad to be as close to you as I can," the blind man continued, "because I'm here to show you that you can succeed in this world no matter what your human limitations may be. I, for example, cannot see; and yet I live a full and productive life. Some of you may have your own handicaps as well. Some of you boys may not be as strong or as smart as others, and some of you girls may not be as pretty as your friends. But with hard work and faith, those limitations don't matter.

"I lost my sight when I was in the second grade, and the years that followed were difficult. I remember one time that some boys spun me until I was dizzy, and I walked into the girls' rest room by mistake…"

Some of the children gasped, and others laughed. Some of the teachers laughed too. No one got in trouble. The blind man went on with his story.

Jimmy was impressed. Here was a man who was brave and funny, who made teachers forget that they were supposed to make kids shut up, and to whom Jesus talked directly. Here was a man who knew some things, a man to be listened to. When the girl next to Jimmy started whispering to the girl next to her, Jimmy punched her arm to make her shut up. Mrs. Porter didn't see him do it.

The girl rubbed her arm and glared at him. "I'm telling," she whispered.

Jimmy knew she was lying. If she told, she would have to admit that she had been talking. He punched her again. She yelped.

Mrs. Porter glared down the row of seats. "Cynthia," she said, "hush."

The girl's eyes welled up. Jimmy was disgusted. What a sissy.

The blind man retrieved his cane and demonstrated how he used it to avoid running into streetlights and mailboxes. Its metal tip scratched back and forth across the stage. "And if I become bored," the blind man said, "I can always pretend I'm Zorro." He raised the cane and slashed an invisible Z in the air. Everyone laughed.

When the blind man finished his talk, he asked if the children had any questions. After some hesitation, quite a few raised their hands. Principal Sturner called on the ones he wanted to, since the blind man couldn't call on them himself. Jimmy noticed that Mr. Sturner only called on the teachers' pets.

The first question was "How do you eat without missing your mouth?" and the second was "How do you drive a car?" Jimmy was peeved. It was obvious that the teachers' pets were all going to ask really stupid questions.

He had a question of his own, and it wasn't stupid. It was, he thought, the only important question anyone could ask the blind man. But he didn't raise his hand. He was afraid to ask the question in front of everyone else. Mr. Sturner wouldn't call on him anyway.

The last question asked was "Do you have a job?"

The blind man smiled. "Yes. I am an evangelist. That means that I spread the good news of Jesus and His love to everyone I meet. You see, despite all that I've had to learn in order to live without eyes, the fact is that none of it is worth a plugged nickel without the help of Jesus. His voice guides my life, and I assure you that I listen."

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