Review by Ed Quillen
Coming of Age – August 1998 – Colorado Central Magazine
Sundays in August
by Harry Clifford Brown
published in 1997 by Sunstone Press
ISBN 0-86534-261-X
IF NOVELS must be categorized, then this one fits pretty well as a “coming of age” tale — and of someone just about my age, at that.
The protagonist, Peter Caviness, is 10 going on 11 in the summer of 1962, when I was 11 going on 12. His musings and misadventures, set in and around a fictional city in western Colorado, refreshed many of my own memories of that summer, ranging from Marilyn Monroe’s suicide to the glory years of the New York Yankees.
Young Peter’s summer, though, contains a double tragedy. On a fishing trip to the mesa that looms over the town, his father dies of a heart attack. The next day, his mother dies.
So the boy and his siblings — brothers older and younger, as well as an older sister — are orphaned. Their closest relative, Uncle Henry on their mother’s side, is about as worthless as ne’er-do-well drunks can get, and they’ve got to find their way through an adult world that is often kind and helpful, but also confusing and exploitative.
Peter’s adventures include the usual boyhood stuff — fishing, playing in forbidden spots, a fight or two, as well as certain rites of passage, such as getting into the communion wine. All the while, it slowly dawns on him that not everything is as clear as it seems.
Brown’s writing, while clear, is often richly descriptive and lyrical, with flashes of wit: “Mr. Shade pressed each one of our hands in turn and peered into our eyes as though trying to locate a cinder. His face was smooth as varnish except for twin creases between his sparse eyebrows, which deepened with seriousness as he studied us and then relaxed when he straightened and motioned us inside. We followed him out of the heat into a wood-paneled hallway full of somber organ music and the chilly hum of swamp-cooler air. Our footsteps fell muffled onto a thick red carpet before stopping in front of a door.”
Sometimes I felt slowed by such sumptuous prose, as though I’d ordered dinner but was getting course after course of dessert — fine for a treat, but difficult as a steady diet.
The characters are well-drawn and distinctive; yet although there are many suspenseful or entertaining incidents, the book doesn’t have the sort of plot that pulls the reader along. Instead, it’s an enjoyable tale that doesn’t seem in any hurry to go anywhere.
Like a 10-year-old boy exploring the countryside on a lazy summer day, this story wanders along with no clear destination. But that’s a good way to enjoy a warm afternoon, either by actually wandering off yourself to find out where that irrigation ditch goes and whether it has muskrats, or by getting into a comfortable chair with Sundays in August.
–Ed Quillen
Harry Clifford Brown will autograph his book 6-8 p.m. Friday, July 24 at First Street Books in Salida.
