The Secret of Hurricanes

In these recent days of careless, almost accidental book deals (think Sarah Palin's Going Rogue), it is increasingly rare to find a book that seems like it has been written on purpose, with purpose. And even more rare than that is to find a book that shows effort and love in every sentence. Enter Theresa Williams' novel The Secret of Hurricanes.

 "I read a story not long ago in the Scout. About a man that killed a Canada goose.
One of the world's few respectable brids. When they mate, they mate for life. And when they lose their mate, they grieve. What capacity for love.
The goose nested in a swamp next to a factory where automobile parts are made. In a flatland state, an industrial town. A town where unemployment runs high every time the country must tighten its belt. The factory was going to be shut down.
Each spring the employees took their sack lunches outside. Waited for her to arrive. To nest. Hatch her young. Waddle to the bald parking lot for food. I think she was like their poetry.
The man that killed her took a baseball bat where she nested. She nested there in the open. For everybody to see. Although here and there were scattered fragments of wrecked machines she couldn've hidden among.
Afterwards, people asked him why. Why did he do it? He said he didn't know why.
'How?' one of his co-workers asked. 'How with only a child's toy has he murdered our dreams?'
I read how her mate staggered over the factory grounds for days, searching. That a factory worker said, 'He looks like a sad man who's missed his bus.'"

The Secret of Hurricanes is scattered with moments like this, that make your heart stop and catch in your throat. It is laced with metaphors that stir emotional responses from tears and heartache to nausea and physical discomfort. I mean this in a good way - the writing is so unadulterated, so unapologetic, that it hits you almost like a slap in the face. There is no skimming through The Secret of Hurricanes. To read the miniature, intense novel is to take your heart in your hands.

 "And when they come back, shouldn't I tell them I prefer the silence of fish to this prattling world? The way fish regard their world without blinking their eyes? Shouldn't I say, 'I like carp, who tolerate drought. Who bury themselves in mud while other fish quiver and die. And there, in the dark, patiently wait for the world to flow about them again.' Beneath all that muck, something. Flesh hearts, waiting to be revived."

Somehow Williams fits a lifetime of pain and tragedy into a mere 209 pages (not to mention that the book is tiny, as far as average book sizes go, and the font quite large). The story is told by Pearl, who is speaking to her unborn child (she assumes it is a girl - "'I know she's a girl,' I say, 'Because I felt her soul.'") Through simile, metaphor, and cloudy memory we learn about Pearl's life and the misfortune that follows her, much like a loyal dog. Thanks to a tumultuous relationship with her father, Pearl spends her life searching for love and affection from other men to fill the void, often in the form of sex or physical abuse. We've seen this storyline before, and it's true that in terms of plot, Williams doesn't cover any new ground. It's not what she says but the way she says it that truly sets the novel apart from others in its genre.

I am a lover of words, in case you haven't noticed. I spend my days waging a never-ending battle to keep my word count down. I never seem to win. My short stories drag on, and my poems are constantly being handed back during workshops with "unnecessary" words and lines crossed out. The Secret of Hurricanes is concrete proof that writers can win the war against wordiness. Although it is accredited to Faulkner ("Kill your darlings"), it was originally Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch that said, “Whenever you feel an impulse to perpetrate a piece of exceptionally fine writing, obey it – whole-heartedly – and delete it before sending your manuscripts to press. Murder your darlings.” I personally believe that The Secret of Hurricanes is a flawless example of a bare skelleton of a novel. All of the unnecessary flesh has been cut away, and we are left with only critical, phenomenal words. You won't find a spare adverb in the entire book. Every single word has fought tooth and nail to be included. It is truly a book of poetry - sparse, flowing, and aching.

Often books that deal with obscene and grotesque topics (included within Williams' pages are murder, incest, statutory rape, and suicide, to name a few) will handle them loosely. Authors can become careless and allow generalities or cliches to get their point across. The reader will find none of these within Hurricanes. Even the most brutal scenes are written lyrically and precisely. It may not always be easy or pleasant to read. But Williams doesn't bother to patronize the reader with sunshine or bullshit. She assumes that if you're mature enough to pick up the book, you're mature enough to handle the truth, which is refreshing.

The Secret of Hurricanes is a haunting story of love, loss, and the scars that stay with us years after the physical wounds of tragedy and abuse may disappear. This is undoubtedly one of the most powerful novels I have ever read. The book seeps slowly into you and clings the way that smoke lingers on your clothes - no matter how much time passes, the second you pull that shirt over your head and inhale, the emotion of the moment envelops you and takes you back.