I got this thinking it was a literary novel. It tries to be, but it wants to be more a mystery novel. It doesn’t do so well on that either. The “secrets” that are hinted at don’t amount to much. There were some good secrets that could’ve been worth chasing: why doesn’t the town acknowledge its Indian heritage? What was up with the gun? Why, indeed, was Chanelle’s arms at her sides when she died? There were so many secrets and ‘mysteries’, but the it was as if the author was afraid to poke deeper at the many plot ideas she had, so she threw a whole bunch in together. It made for a book where we look at things from a distance, but not really getting to the meat of things.
Minute details bogged the story down to a crawl. The author had to describe every little action that had no bearing on the plot whatsover. I found myself flipping pages more than reading them.
The only time the book came alive was during Nowell and Lonnie’s arguments. In fact, probably the most fleshed out character was Lonnie, mainly because he was the main person to actually rile up the characters. Vivian through the plot in a clueless daze, or through dull flashbacks most of the time, and when she did do something proactive, usually when drunk, her actions made little sense. Katherine ‘clackety bracelet’ demeanor irritated me to the point I was skipping most of the scenes she was in. Nowell whined about his book and mainly hid a lot. Mr. Stokes was set up as a ‘mysterious stranger’, but even he felt distanced. Most of what we learn of him is through hearsay. Vivian’s interactions with him felt too timid.
I guess I was hoping the book would live up to its title, which I’m still trying to figure out why it’s named “The Qualities of Wood.” I wanted more, which I got through mundane detail, but not enough to satisfy or care about the resolving of secrets.