The Wallcreeper.

I found Nell Zink’s debut novel The Wallcreeper in the $4 section at the back of Changing Hands in Tempe, and figured it was worth the shot given that it was less than 200 pages and seemed on a quick search to be rather critically acclaimed. It was more than worth the cost, although I am having a hard time explaining exactly why this book is so good. It’s a mad, meandering, hilarious book that obeys very few of the rules of postmodern literature, which doesn’t have any rules to begin with.

The Wallcreeper is narrated by Tiffany, who is married to Steve; the two of them are birders, although Steve is the more ardent of the two, and they have a pet wallcreeper. That bird isn’t native to Germany or Switzerland, where they live during the course of the novel, but they kept it because Steve was driving one day while Tiff was pregnant, and when he swerved to avoid hitting the bird, it caused Tiff to miscarry. This sequence, right at the start of the novel, is stated with almost comic nonchalance, setting the tone from the start. Tiff’s narration is close to stream-of-consciousness; it’s nonlinear, nonsensical, unreliable, and very funny, often when it’s hardly appropriate.

The story follows the couple through copious infidelities on both sides, Steve’s obscure job that is keeping the two Americans in Europe, a relocation, more infidelities, a tragedy, another tragedy, and some birds. The two even hook up with an activist group and go on to commit some light ecoterrorism, which has unexpected consequences.

Through it all, it’s hard to tell what Tiff really feels about anything – herself, her husband, her various lovers, everything except for the destruction of the planet, which has Tiff, like most of us who realize what’s happening, reeling from utter hopelessness to the desire to do anything that might make a difference. She’s inscrutable as a character, other than her sheer determination, even though it’s not always applied to the best courses of action.

To say anything more about The Wallcreeper risks spoiling the few plot elements that remain – and the wonder of discovering this character, and Zink’s unique voice. The only novel I can recall reading in the last five years that was anything like this was No One Is Talking About This, where author Patricia Lockwood also utilized a stream-of-consciousness narration technique, although hers is more informed by social media. Both authors employ postmodern techniques without dispensing with plot or character development as so many other postmodern authors do (in my lay opinion), and even when I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on in Wallcreeper or whether I liked the novel, I couldn’t stop reading.

Next up: As I’m writing this review, I’m still reading T. Kingfisher’s A Sorceress Comes to Call.