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A review by ghostboyreads
The Devil All the Time by Donald Ray Pollock
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
"Unless he had whiskey running through his veins, Willard came to the clearing every morning and evening to talk to God. Arvin didn't know which was worse, the drinking or the praying. As far back as he could remember, it seemed that his father had fought the Devil all the time."
Review updated as of my re-read (28.1.25-30.1.25) because my wonderful boyfriend was kind enough to read and annotate a copy for me. Somehow, loved it even more.
The Devil All the Time stands as one of the single most honest and authentic works of fiction ever written, this cruel, oppressive, and seedy novel utterly delights in just how disgustingly fucked up it really is. It's one of those books that seeks to burrow deep into your bones and make a home within your soul where it'll sit, festering, rotting you from the inside out, infecting your blood until it consumes your every thought. This right here is a heavily violent, vicious and gruesome novel, however, it's far more than simple gratuitous savagery intent on shocking and disturbing us, this is a novel with heart. Above all else, this story so perfectly captures the bleak and crushing frustration of discovering one's own limitations.
It's a tale that's so utterly devoid of all hope, yet still manages to be such a profoundly beautiful thing. The Devil All the Time instills within readers a very specific feeling, and all these years later, all these re-reads since, I'm still faced with uncertainty as to what that feeling even is - perhaps it's the futility of it all. Regardless of what the feeling actually is, it's there, with every turn of the page, and it's the most brutally lonely feeling in the world. The backbone of this novel is a whole bunch of unsavory, awful, horrible people, to whom the fetid stink of desperation and bad choices cling. Despite the dismal fog that envelops every last part of this novel, it's just so, so resoundingly gorgeous. It's a surprisingly peaceful novel, there's a sick sort of comfort within its chaos.
Review updated as of my re-read (28.1.25-30.1.25) because my wonderful boyfriend was kind enough to read and annotate a copy for me. Somehow, loved it even more.
The Devil All the Time stands as one of the single most honest and authentic works of fiction ever written, this cruel, oppressive, and seedy novel utterly delights in just how disgustingly fucked up it really is. It's one of those books that seeks to burrow deep into your bones and make a home within your soul where it'll sit, festering, rotting you from the inside out, infecting your blood until it consumes your every thought. This right here is a heavily violent, vicious and gruesome novel, however, it's far more than simple gratuitous savagery intent on shocking and disturbing us, this is a novel with heart. Above all else, this story so perfectly captures the bleak and crushing frustration of discovering one's own limitations.
It's a tale that's so utterly devoid of all hope, yet still manages to be such a profoundly beautiful thing. The Devil All the Time instills within readers a very specific feeling, and all these years later, all these re-reads since, I'm still faced with uncertainty as to what that feeling even is - perhaps it's the futility of it all. Regardless of what the feeling actually is, it's there, with every turn of the page, and it's the most brutally lonely feeling in the world. The backbone of this novel is a whole bunch of unsavory, awful, horrible people, to whom the fetid stink of desperation and bad choices cling. Despite the dismal fog that envelops every last part of this novel, it's just so, so resoundingly gorgeous. It's a surprisingly peaceful novel, there's a sick sort of comfort within its chaos.
"One morning while he was out, a lame and starving mutt with soft white fur ventured up to the porch timidly with its tale between its legs. Arvin fed it some scraps from the refrigerator, had already named it Jack by the time his father got home. Without a word, Willard walked into the house and came back out with his rifle. He shoved Arvin away from the dog, then shot it between the eyes while the boy begged him not to do it. He dragged it into the woods and nailed it to one of the crosses. Arvin stopped speaking to him after that. He listened to the moans of his mother while Willard drove around looking for more sacrifices."
The more I learn about this novel, the more in love with it I become, and the more I learn about the author, the greater admiration for him and his work I feel. Donald Ray Pollock is a damn fine author, he is what many aspire to be, yet so few can actually achieve. He's an author who writes without all the bullshit. Here he's given life to a blisteringly raw narrative while sacrificing absolutely nothing. He's breathed life to an explosive yet solemn story that's doused in gasoline, soaked in room temperate beer and spent shell casings, then set ablaze and cast into the wind. The Devil All the Time will force you to gaze upon your soul stripped bare, laid out into nothing but a bloody mass of pulverized viscera. If ever there was a novel so achingly sad it compelled readers to drink bleach, it would be this one. This is real, pure American Southern Gothic as it was always intended to be.
"To his way of thinking, it was the one true religion, the thing he'd been searching for all his life. Only in the presence of death could he feel the presence of something like God."