The universality of grief makes it a popular subject for fiction, but by the same stroke it's challenging to approach with a fresh eye. Both humane and darkly comic, Peter Mendelsund's novel Weepers--the story of a group of professional mourners and the young man whose arrival casts their work in a dramatic new light--meets that standard.
Set in a dying small town in the hot, dusty American Southwest, Weepers's wry narratoris Ed Franklin, an aging and ailing cowboy poet whose dominant state of mind appears to be a wise world weariness. When he's not passing the time at his mobile home or with his girlfriend, Chantal, this self-described "ramshackle old gooch" is part of the cohort of Local 302, an organization that "began as a novelty service--like singing telegrams or birthday clowns." Its members are paid to appear at funerals and weep copiously in order to inspire the grief of the true mourners.
One day, from out of state, a young man known to Ed only as "the kid" arrives with no belongings other than the suit on his back, and soon attaches himself to the ranks of this decidedly informal union. But what differentiates him from Dill, J-Man, Lemon, and the rest of the crew is his uncanny ability to evoke effusive displays of emotions from people, both at funerals and elsewhere, without shedding a single tear of his own, or seemingly even speaking a word. And with the passage of time, a few strange, occasionally violent, encounters between the kid and townspeople hint at a dark past. As he observes these events, Ed undergoes a crisis in his own practice, finding it increasingly difficult to summon up tears on demand.
Ed struggles to solve the enigma of the kid's "large, unignorable, unrivaled gift, no matter how dangerously high-octane"--and to understand why he "simply could not shake that there was something extra-special in the boy." At the same time, he continues to deal with memories of his abusive father, a man who persistently haunts his dreams and reminds him that he's never come to terms with the legacy of that violence.
Throughout, Mendelsund (The Delivery; What We See When We Read) raises often unanswerable questions, but though Weepers is the sort of novel that resists the easy consolation of a neat ending, that doesn't detract from its appeal. Reflective and atmospheric, it's a meaningful expression of our attempt grapple with some of life's most profound mysteries. --Harvey Freedenberg, freelance reviewer
Shelf Talker: The humane and darkly comic story of a group of professional mourners and the enigmatic character who enters their midst provides the backdrop for a meditation on grief and loss.