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Yes, friends, Bolen
invites you to clamber into the back of that old ’42 red Chevy
pickup, set our watches to 1967, and ride along with Robin, a polite,
paranoid, clever, yearning young lad of 15 who takes us on a
picaresque journey through the back roads of western Canada, illegally
motoring through mechanical problems and existential threats with the
aid of many well-drawn cameo players, most of whom are friendly
Canucks who lend a hand but can’t resist the opportunity to
instruct the boy on the ways of the world and often pronounce somewhat
enigmatic predictions. An astute bunch. Much of it concerns warnings.
Perhaps flattered, Robin quietly takes it all in stride, and kudos
here to Bolen’s nice touch in deciding to have Robin play a
submissive role to his many Batmen, and besides giving them (and us)
vague replies, he never really gives anything away as to the Why of
the trip, or the Obsession with the vehicle. The hook. Not one to
ponder possibilities, Bolen’s protagonist is pretty well always
in the present — the future is the next roadsign. Of course, all
this avoidance of information is necessary to enhance the surprise of
what happens next, and to keep the map to the final denouement safely
locked in the glove compartment.
But wait, there’s
more under this old hood. Neuroticism always finds a crack. For
example: Robin’s keen desire to appease all the father figures he
meets does set off our four-way flashers. Freud would be asking daddy
questions. And the Chevy? Symbol? Metaphor? Just a truck? Keep
guessing. Bolen teases and keeps his foreshadowing in park until the
big crash scene ending, with its pile-up of emotions and realizations
in the reveal all ending. Bolen’s writing skills are certainly on
display, especially his ability to create characters through
interesting dialogue — presented here without quote marks…
increased intimacy? — and the scenes flow smoothly between Robin’s
increasingly sophisticated encounters. It’s all very easy to
visualize. And educational! Interested in auto mechanics? You’ll
love the detailed passages of preparation and repair. Like variety?
Each encounter tends to offer a lesson in humanity. As the road rolls
on, it’s no surprise that Robin, as the structure of the book
predicts, starts shifting up the gears of awareness and confidence,
and finally Bolen raises the speed limit for the final flag. The
action immediately goes to maximum, with two empathic/heroic scenes
completing the last loop before the finish, which actually slows down
to set up the yes, faintly convoluted, concluding revelations. These
last few chapters contain some of Bolen’s most sensitive and
lyrical prose … we all get to come of age. And yes, there is one
more lecture on life at the end. And more predictions. Adults are such
jerks.
One final, slightly
editorial comment: overall the vocabulary Bolen uses is in university
cruise control, but every now and then burns rubber with a few WTF
words that will either jump you into smug overdrive or make you pull
over to the roadside while you look in your toolbox for a translation.
You know, words like amaranthine. I first guessed it was a colour,
like Donovan’s alizarin crimson, as it’s the colour of the
truck on the cover — good guess: amaranthine is also the name of
a red/purple hue — but then had to look it up to discover it’s
a fancy licence plate for Immortal. When I bought my copy at Monroe’s
I couldn’t quite remember the pronunciation and had to have her
search for Bolen, Dennis E. Picayune criticism? Perhaps, but I like my
rides with no pit stops. Sorry.
All in all,
Amaranthine Chevrolet is a somewhat serious (and therefore also
faintly humorous) study of relationships, philosophies, perceptions,
and good old humanist values played out on good old Canadian
geography. It’s also a clever, imaginative ride for around 1600
klicks of adventure and nick-of-time good fortune. Seat belts
suggested. Heaven is just down the road. Are we there yet?
-- Rick McGrath
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