Years ago, I wrote a novel called The Preacher which was destined to remain unpublished. It had all the flaws of a first novel: lack of focus, vaulting ambition, and a raging, uncontrolled experimentalism. It also had a character, named The Preacher, who—despite being a punkish partier and postmodern doubting Thomas who eventually murders his best friend in cold blood while on a road trip—was meant to be the most sincere Christian since Christ.
It’s kind of hard to explain.
Potter Springs begins as Mark Reynolds, apparently some sort of West Texas pastor, gets pulled over by a police officer while wearing a t-shirt displaying four women in thong bathing suits.
But that’s not what reminded me of my book. What reminded me of my book was the line
Mr. Chester’s cries from the backseat subsided
. . . but then I learned that Mr. Chester was a cat who doesn’t like cars. Too bad.
The police officer serves two functions:
- He is Hispanic, and
- He interrogates Mark.
The officer's Hispanic surname balances Mark’s Anglo one, and helps to place us in
West Texas multiculture.
And his questions establish that Mark is heading for
Mexico to look for his wife.
As far as we know he hasn’t killed anyone, but the chapter does end with Mark reflecting on
the time before the losing began. Before the whirlwind and the changes and the wide, open spaces.
So: Mark Reynolds is a
West Texas preacher, possibly slightly hypocritical, and he thinks things were better before the Dixie Chicks released their first hit song.
Guy must be a Republican.
SPACEDARK
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