Book Review: “Liquid, Fragile, Perishable” by Carolyn Kuebler
Life in the Boonies
When I was growing up, I lived in a small village in eastern Ontario and life wasn’t always idyllic or like something out of a picture book. I frequently got picked on and bullied. In one incident, I was on the bus on my way to high school, and someone in the seat in front of me did something offensive. I cannot remember what that was, but I do remember him turning around and calling me a “city slicker” as though it were a terrible epithet. At the time, I thought he was saying this to cast me as an outsider — someone who wasn’t valued in the very town I was growing up in. Looking back on it now, I realize there was another connotation to this: that the individual was jealous that I would be smart enough to get out of town and go to university whereas he would be stuck there for life. (And, for the record, this person would grow up to be charged for discharging a rifle into a house, nearly missing a young woman who was sleeping. I don’t know what happened after that, though I think his firearms license was taken away from him.) In any event, this detail is important when it comes to Carolyn Kuebler’s Liquid, Fragile, Perishable, as it is a debut novel set in rural Vermont where people are itching to get out of Dodge — but just don’t realize it. Or just can’t leave to begin with.
The book is — like the similarly-themed The Road to Dalton by Shannon Bowring – a series of interconnected stories that make up the frame of the novel. At its center is the love story between out-of-towner teenager Willoughby and Honey, whose father runs an apiary/honey-making business. However, their story is only told peripherally. Surrounding them are teenage crystal meth addicts, impoverished older women, and jealous girlfriends. That’s the bulk of this novel as far as the plot goes because to say much more than this would risk giving away crucial plot points — which don’t kick in until at least halfway into the read. Unlike the aforementioned Bowring book, though, these are not short stories that are patched together, but more along the lines of vignettes. Kuebler has a unique style, employing the tell, don’t show style of writing — which, in some ways (and I hope I’m not being too harsh here), casts her as an amateur writer, one who makes jokes in asides that aren’t all that witty. Another thing that is striking about the book is that it doesn’t have much in the way of dialogue: this is mostly told through interior monologues. Again, if you’re looking for a book that subscribes to the “show, don’t tell” rule, you’re bound to be disappointed.
Still, Liquid, Fragile, Perishable isn’t all that bad — once you get past the unique stylistic voice of its writer. It’s a book that keeps the reader on their toes, especially in the beginning, where those partaking in this novelistic exercise must keep characters straight — and there are a lot of them. What saves this book from becoming a quick reject in the cutout bins is that the author writes with truth and honesty about the lives lived in present-day small towns. You have your wannabe drug pushers, you have your infantile youths, and you have single women without any money blaming themselves for something that happened 30 years ago. In some respects, I think that Liquid, Fragile, Perishable is a book best enjoyed by older female readers. It’s more of a hunch than something I can put a precise finger on, but even though these characters sometimes do despicable things, the story is told in a folksy, friendly voice — not the mad rantings of a MAGA lover. (Though you never know: I usually don’t do a lot of research on a book before reading it to not let details from other reviewers seep into my reviews.) In any event, this novel shows the darker side of the small-town inns and cottage industries that populate small New England towns but does so with a bit of a joker’s smile on its face.
Beyond that, though, I would have to conclude that Liquid, Fragile, Perishable — despite being shrewdly named — is more of an average book than anything great. It all comes back to the raconteur-like style of the writing, which is either going to turn the reader off completely or be as appealing as heck. For me, I was expecting more than just being told that certain things were happening internally inside a character, I was looking for those meaningful looks or gentle touches on the shoulder that populate most of literary fiction. To that end, I found this novel to be somewhat wanting. That said, it has a compelling enough story — once it kicks in and becomes apparent to the reader, and you can start keeping the characters straight — that will encourage readers to want to finish it. The book ends as much as it begins, with the possibility this time of a little more hope. Thus, curious readers may want to give Liquid, Fragile, Perishable a try. (I feel that this statement is becoming a cliché of my writing, but it’s true: if something about the description of the writing of this book sounds remotely appealing, chances are you may find something to enjoy about it that I may have overlooked.) For me, I’ll probably stick to other writers, but am glad to have given this one a shot. While I may just be some kind of “city slicker,” I feel that this isn’t all that bad of a book about small towns. To be prescriptive, the author could certainly benefit from some closer editing to weed out her more egregious puns and witticisms. Once that’s done, Carolyn Kuebler might be a talent worth keeping a closer eye on.
Carolyn Kuebler’s Liquid, Fragile, Perishable was published by Melville House / Random House Publishing on May 14, 2024.
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