The Heart is a Lonely Hunter has been on several of our bookshelves for a while, and since our former member David keeps pushing it on us, I thought I'd finally pick it. The book opens with "In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together" and proceeds to give us the unlikely friendship of Mr. Singer and Antonopoulos. When Antonopoulos is committed to an institution, Mr. Singer, an engraver in a small Southern town has to deal with his solitude. His proper and humble appearance draws 4 diverse characters from the town who each talk to him separately about their problems. The more memorable of these characters are Mick, a poor, fourteen-year-old tomboy obsessed with one day composing classical music and Dr. Copeland, a lonely intellectual in the African American community with children who have dissapointed him.

The novel is more character than narrative driven, and each of the characters is coping with isolation and secrets. Though Mr. Singer becomes a sort of friend to each as they unburden themselves before him, none of the characters ever is able to make a significant, human connection with another in the disjointed group. Even their friendships with Mr. Singer are one-sided, and all of them fail to understand the acute loneliness and longing of their dearest friend.

Overall, the book was a fast-paced read, but, at least for me, something was lacking in its style. The novel's author is often touted as a genius for composing her work at the age of 23, but her images fall far short of Faulkner's, and, in the end, her story lacks something of the apocalyptic darkness and intensity of other writers in the Southern Gothic mode.

We the Animals is fascinating in its strangeness. The novel barely fills 100 pages and is comprised of several vignettes which capture the wild and tumultuous childhoods of three brothers in a poor, mixed-race family. It begins with vivid episodes to characterize the mother and father and their relationships with the children. As the stories progress, the escapades of the boys become ways of coping with their parents' rocky relationship.

 Justin Torres, a product of the Iowa writer's workshop, uses some delightfully poetic imagery to drive the mysticism underlying his novel. A "toenail clipping of moon" and a comparison of the mother's mascara-smudged face to that of "a raccoon caught digging in the trash" bring a humor in their lowness and an accuracy to the perspective of the young narrator.

The book is equal parts endearing and tragic, but it ends abruptly in what seems like an unfinished story. Torres gets into the main climactic rage of his novel only to promptly cut it off. If there were more of a resolution or a later epilogue about the family, the book could have been more satisfying.

"Do it to me." "What?" we asked. "Make me born."

"What happens when you die?" I asked. "Nothing happens," he said. "Nothing happens forever."