Whitney Terrell's characters always exist in a context. In this novel, for every important character the reader knows that character's class, income, race, education and (usually) family. These frameworks help determine what the character thinks and how he acts. To me, at least, this is refreshing; for decades American writing hs been dominated by an interiority that has become monotonous. Many of our novelists' characters exist in a void. Money, for instance, is almost never mentioned, as if the pursuit of it didn't use up nearly half the waking hours of the average adult. Terrell is one of the few contemporary novelists who writes about human beings in something like the way they actually live.
To say that the characters reflect the way we live in this country is not to imply that they or the plot have the humdrum, quotidian quality that permeates most of our lives. The King of King's County is full of quirks and odd little twists. The characters are credible partly because they are set in an authentic, persuasive social context. This aspect of Terrell's writing sets him less with his contemporaries and more alongside the 19th-century novelists, with their wider canvases and larger and more varied casts of characters, and their concerns with social issues. This is not to criticize other modern novelists, but to point out that Terrell fills a gap in our literature that has gone unplugged too long.
In addition to a convincing narrative ground, the book is extremely well crafted. The plot is credible, evolving at a consistent rate, neither too fast nor too slow. The story is established in long scenes and perfectly joined chapters that are worked out in detail, but which rarely drag. The cast of characters is large, but the reader never loses track of who's who, and the book doesn't feel crowded. The prose invites the reader into the story. Occasionally that prose is downright beautiful, though it doesn't strut and preen and show itself off.
There are, of course, weaknesses - after all, it's a novel, and no perfect novel exists. There are occasional anachronisms (two teenagers using the word "upgrade", a recent coinage). And the son is more blunt with his father than sons were in those days. The dialogue is occasionally too literary, so that it doesn't sound like real people having a real conversation. And the characters often talk too much like each other. But these are minor, occasional problems, and compared to the book's virtues, they are mostly insignificant. Terrell has the complete novelist's toolkit: characterization, plot, and all the rest, and he works not at the apprentice or journeyman level, but close to that of a master.
If you're looking for a substantial, serious novel, well-written but not stuffy, sometimes even light-hearted; if you enjoy a cast of interesting characters ranging from mobsters to socialites; and if you're open to some shrewd observations on the remaking of American cities by business and political forces, then you'll probably enjoy this book. It's not a simple tale. There's a lot of moral ambiguity - much is not as it first seems to be. But isn't this what a novel should do? Create an imaginary setting and work it out in a fashion more or less as confusing as our own so-called real world, but clearer and more managed, with the merit that at the end we can let out the breath we've been holding, set the book aside, say "That was good," and recommend it to a friend we'd like to discuss it with? A novel is a puzzle, and the best of them, like this one, are designed not to be fully solved, but pondered.
In the interest of full disclosure, I'll say that I'm acquainted with Whitney Terrell. I'm a former student of his. While I admire both him and his writing, I've tried to make this review as accurate as I can. This novel is good enough that it deserves a wide readership. In the end, it's the work that counts, not the writer, and this is a book that merits both an audience, and a serious discussion. But that discussion should be on the novel's own terms. Those who treat The King of King's County as a roman a clef of real-life demographic engineering are shortchanging themselves. The book is best read as it is: a work of fiction inspired by, but not reporting, real people and real events. The novel creates a fictional Kansas City; it is a work of imagination, not journalism. Read it as you would any other novel: for pleasure and (to some extent) for edification.
