Book Review: Where The Crawdads Sing (Delia Owens)

No matter how civilized a society can become, human behavior remains rooted in biological codes that are naturally embedded in all of us. We like to think that we're all above nature in a way as we splurge on technology, dress ourselves up, and pave over forests to build cities. When you take all of that away from a person, we might see a savage. In the setting of the deep south, you might even say a savage would be nothing more than a crawdad scurrying in the mud.

Delia Owens' Where The Crawdads Sings paints a somber portrait of such a character. Kya Clark, age six, is abandoned by her family, which had suffered for years under the abuse of a drunken, violent father. Left on her own, Kya has no choice but to fend for herself, slowly learning how to find and cook her own food, find money, and survive in the marsh. As the years go on, a boy named Tate befriends her and teaches her to read, which empowers her to eventually learn science and poetry. However, a romantic connection falls apart when Tate runs off to college and doesn't return when promised. Kya inevitably falls for the local bad boy, Chase, who winds up dead some time later. As you might guess, Kya is the prime suspect, but did she really commit murder?

What's most admirable about this book is its dedication to building up its main character and showing us the full scope of her heart and soul. Considering that we follow her from childhood to adulthood, we see for ourselves how she learns, copes, and evolves with the times. One can't help but to feel sorry for the girl when she's constantly abandoned and shunned (maybe that's a cheap trick for sympathy, but hot dang, it works). But I eventually grew to appreciate the adult Kya as her introspection frequently draws insightful connections in nature--both actual nature and human nature. Themes concerning human love, hate, life, and the coming of age elevates this narrative into a more artistic sphere. The prose bears a light, heartfelt touch, especially when it divulges into random poems. However, the story is not afraid to bluntly dive into darker territory.

This book is at its best when it follows Kya on her day-to-day struggles and shows her growth. Of course, when you stitch a book together with all these slices of life, narrative momentum comes off as a slow burn. It flares up only when the emotions do, at those key moments where Kya is abandoned or scorned--in-between, it's a little dry. Beyond that, the book also weaves a mystery throughout the whole length, until the timelines align and we have a back-and-forth between an ongoing trial and flashbacks. The trial read fine, but the investigation leading up to it fell way flat for me. The sheriff struck me as a flat stereotype whose sole interest was lunch (in fact, you can't go ten pages in this book without a mention of grits, butter beans, biscuits, or some other kind of down home cooking). And honestly, most other side character came off as one-dimensional, and most dialogue that occurs feels less authentic and more like a movie script.

One minor problem kept popping up, which many readers may dismiss, but to me it makes the work feel undercooked. There's an awful lot of headhopping--instances in which the prose flips from one character's POV to another's without a break or indication. It really stands out to me when Kya thinks one thing on one sentence then Chase or somebody else thinks something in the next. Some of the introspection given doesn't even add that much (for example, there is a huge paragraph from a lawyer's POV, which is probably generates tension, but this is the only moment in the story where he has any thoughts revealed and I question why even). The way different thoughts invade the narrative comes off as clunky, but it's not nearly as clunky as the moments in which Kya may reflect on other characters and flashbacks on the fly, so we're told about the townsfolk and their connection to her only during certain moments (like the trial) instead of having them planted, foreshadowed, or having their interaction shown to us. The drama between Tate and his father seemed tacked-on at the last minute, and if it was cut, nothing would really change. It feels as though a lot of small details could have been fleshed out in a more organic way, but instead we have scattered paragraphs that flatly tell us things, not show.

Fortunately, these issues are diluted to the point where it never confused or upset me, I just find it bewildering at times. The majority of the book read smoothly, with ample amounts of detail, but not so much that I got bored. I actually found myself looking forward to reading each section every night, to see more of the Marsh Girl and read what happens next. Hardly a perfect book, but the heart and soul of the story and character makes it a decent read anyway. I admire the book the most for the way it handles the main character, her scientific musings, and a few good metaphors.

8/10