Briar Page's Reviews > Cuckoo

Like MANHUNT, this is a blisteringly angry book: a constantly burning blow torch pointed at homophobia, transphobia, and, especially, the pervasive scourge of hidden, ignored, and socially approved child abuse. But also like MANHUNT— perhaps even more so— CUCKOO has great tenderness for its immensely damaged protagonists, and also takes the time to flesh out and empathize with some of its odious antagonists. This nuanced characterization provides a necessary counterpoint to the rage that fuels the novel, and makes it more moving and memorable than most other politically charged, hyper-violent works of fiction. There are quiet moments of connection and sorrow that are going to stay with me far longer than the scenes of dynamite explosions and shoot outs with shrieking, starfish-faced cops.

Along with strong character work, Felker-Martin’s vivid sensory descriptions stick out. The primary antagonist is nauseating, with smell doing at least as much to convey the alien wrongness of the Cuckoo as its monstrous appearance. Elements from obvious (and acknowledged-in-text!) pop culture precedents like THE THING and INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS are re-worked into something uniquely grotesque. The more mundane horrors-- a mother slamming her child's fingers in a door as punishment, conversion camp goons beating a sixteen year old girl to get her into the back of their truck, teens dehydrating and blistering with sunburn as they trek across the Utah desert-- are actually harder to read about. In contrast, beautiful evocations of the wild American landscape, the joys of existing in a human body (whether sexual or sensual), and fleeting moments of safety, calm, and interpersonal harmony drive home what the heroes (and the world) stand to lose. This is a queer pulp epic perfectly aimed at the present political moment, for all that it’s set decades in the past.