Weedeater: An Illustrated Novel Hardcover – Illustrated, March 14, 2018

There’s a scene in Weedeater, Robert Gipe’s second novel, about a tree. An old red oak that had fallen and blocked the road.It’s a good story: The tree lay there for a month before it was properly dealt with. It stopped traffic. A lady down the hill moved away because she thought it would roll and hit the illegal propane tanks and blow up the whole neighborhood.But the scene’s not about that. It’s about Dawn, the narrator, reconnecting, or trying to, with her wayward mother, struggling with addiction, among other things. They’re on a roof. At the edge. Remembering the tree and missing it.Though she might not admit it, Dawn is longing for a gone past – or, maybe, a nonexistent one – the spirit of which Gipe manages to encapsulate in one third of one sentence, a clause where Dawn describes the tree as “big enough that me and Momma could only barely touch fingers when we hugged it from opposite sides.”But the scene’s not about that. It’s about what Dawn is thinking while all this nothing and everything is going on. It’s about: Who can you really count on in this life?But then Gipe snaps it all back to the present. The weather, here and now. Small talk.“Lot hotter out here without that tree,” Dawn says.“Seems like,” Momma replies.All this in just a couple inches of text, and it’s not even exceptional, for Gipe. Such scenes are everywhere here, as they are in Trampoline. I had to just go with one.Gipe and his characters tell stories within stories within stories – and they’re pitch perfect, and they’re not only entertaining but important, for this time and this place. 2019. Appalachia, USA. Which means they’re important for us, and for a wider audience as well, and they will be for a long time to come.“No other work in this century shifted the literary landscape of Appalachia like the publication of Robert Gipe’s Trampoline,” writes Erik Reece in not the front cover or even the top five but rather the very bottom blurb on Weedeater’s back cover. “Now comes its sequel,” Reece continues “ – just as searing, relentless, and gripping. With its cast of misfits, Gipe is redefining and reimagining the American social novel. His language is lightning on the page.”For someone tackling topics like environmental and human degradation, from mountaintop removal to the opioid epidemic, Gipe’s lightning language is a gift. There’s pure precision, but also warmth and humor in the midst of these stark landscapes, these brash and violent characters.There’s one apt phrase after another, clean shocks of dialog and description, similes that tell stories in and of themselves.There’s Albert, with a “grin like a tent zipper.”There’s Pharoah the dog with his “face like desert rocks in a cowboy movie.”There’s Dawn leaving a diner and being blinded by summer light, “light clear as children crying in the night, bright as welder sparks, the sky full of pressure.”But there’s also this light – a group of struggling people on a porch drinking whiskey, and Pepsi; and Gene, or Weedeater, begins to feel better about things, and tells us it was peaceful in That Woman’s yellow bug light, felt like there was room enough for all of us.

There's a lot of what Chris Strachwitz calls "mouse music" around. You know what he means: meek, introspective, plaintive music with no soul and no backbeat. Same is true with writing -- lots of it is mouse stuff.This ain't no mouse novel!Gipe has written (and drawn) a book that kicks tail. The language and the people are true. It's about real characters and a real place. And it doesn't back down.Get it and get with the beat.

Life is really hard for Dawn, and I think that is a large part of the authenticity of this book. Be prepared for a lot of death. Drug use and poverty perpetuate tragic circumstances for many families, and it takes a great deal of strength and determination to break out of those circumstances. There are some serious systemic and economic problems that need to be addressed. While individuals are sometimes able to find opportunities and have better outcomes, these issues cannot be left for each individual to solve on their own. The underlying socioeconomic system needs to be changed to properly address these issues. Dawn and the other characters provide human faces for bigger issues, and the story is crafted with consideration for these lived experiences. I’m eager to see how this trilogy ends.

This is a delightful read written by an up and coming author. Set deep in the hills of Appalachia, it tackles the problems of rampant drug use and problems associated with it. The book keeps ones interest from cover to cover. The illustrations are sometimes funny, sometimes sad, and always good. I enthusiastically recommend this book.

Robert Gripe is a wonderful writer and I was quite moved by both Trampoline and Weedeater. I live in Appalachia, as has my family for 200 years. This book touches on the lifestyle of a portion of those still living in coal country today.

Thoroughly enjoyed!

Arrived quickly, and in good condition.

What a wonderful continuation of Dawn Jewel’s life. In Weedeater the issue of strip mining takes a back burner. Dawn and the cast of characters face the delemma of the opioid crisis. The stakes of this issue hit Dawn much closer to home. The subject matter is timely and the book is very well written and entertaining. I highly recommend it. Question for author, do you think in Dawn Jewel’s voice?