The lives of those residing in the isolated town of Burnt Sparrow, New Hampshire, are forever altered after three faceless entities arrive on Christmas morning to perform a brutal act of violence—a senseless tragedy that can never be undone. While the townspeople grieve their losses and grapple with the aftermath of the attack, a young teenage boy named Rupert Cromwell is forced to confront the painful realities of his family situation. Once relationships become intertwined and more carnage ensues as a result of the massacre, the town residents quickly learn that true retribution is futile, cruelty is earned, and certain thresholds must never be crossed no matter what.
There’s a note from Eric LaRocca at the beginning of WE ARE ALWAYS TENDER WITH THE DEAD, the first book in his BURNT SPARROW trilogy. In it, he not only provides a series of content warnings (which is always appreciated), he goes on to say that this is a book that is not meant to be enjoyed.
You could look at this a little bit of showmanship, or you could take it for what it really seems to be: a genuine warning that you are about to read some really disturbing shit.
This is the second full-length novel of LaRocca’s that I’ve read (after WRETCH, and I did read one of their collections, THIS SKIN WAS ONCE MINE AND OTHER DISTURBANCES) and it’s for sure my favorite of his work so far. I think this review is likely to be a bit on the short/vague side, as WE ARE ALWAYS TENDER WITH OUR DEAD is a rather lightly plotted book. One that relies more on a creeping feeling of dread, and a squirming, suffocating sense of discomfort.
The story is set in December of 2003, in the fictional New Hampshire town of Burnt Sparrow. It’s two days after Christmas when 17-year-old Rupert Cromwell’s father bursts into his bedroom before the sunrise, declaring that “a backwards miracle has occurred.”
He bustles Rupert out the door, into the car, and they drive to the center of their small town. Where there are…bodies.
Just so many bodies.
Gunned down, in the middle of the Main Street, at a Christmas parade.
Rupert and his father now begin their strange work of guarding the dead. Rupert, and subsequently the reader, is really offered no explanation about this bizarre duty.
Elsewhere in town, a wealthy couple, Cyril and Gladys Esherwood have volunteered to house the strange family that committed this terrible crime. But to what end? Just what is the cruel Cyril Esherwood planning to do with these strangers?
There isn’t a whole lot more I can say about the story without getting too far into spoiler territory! As I said, this isn’t a book that relies on a very complex plot.
There’s this incredibly jarring juxtaposition here between the isolated quaintness of Burnt Sparrow, and the utter depravity that occurs behind some of the closed doors in town. It’s like a Norman Rockwell painting as reimagined by Clive Barker.
This book will not be for everyone, for sure. It’s hard to read at times. It’s raw, it’s visceral, and it goes into the very darkest places you can imagine. The book provides an unflinching look at grief, queerness, loneliness, and the distinctly American tradition of mass shootings.
Aside from some journal entries & newspaper clippings, the story is told almost entirely from Rupert’s and Gladys’s POV, and so we get intimately familiar with these two troubled characters. Rupert and Gladys are far & away the two most sympathetic characters I’ve met in an Eric LaRocca book, so that goes a long way towards navigating the darkness in this book.
This one lingers with you long after finishing. You’ll read things you’ll wish you hadn’t read. Feel things you’ll wish you hadn’t felt. It’s a relatively short novel (around 275 pages), but it’s by no means an “easy read.” I’m so curious about where the story goes from here in WE TURN GRUESOME AT NIGHT.
Grimdark Dad 