“Age old story, who gets to look down on who, for what reason” – Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead
I’ve always loved a story’s ability to expose us to worlds vastly different from our own. For better or worse, I want to see them. I want to understand. Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead full heartedly delivers on this front, offering the reader a window into the life of a boy grappling with poverty, foster care, and addiction in the Appalachian Mountains. The story broke my heart in a hundred different ways, reminding me how much of our lives is determined by the lottery of where we are born, and to whom.
On the surface, Demon Copperhead and I have nothing in common. However, the spirit of his being remains relatable throughout the book. He is undoubtedly resilient, but nowhere close to perfect. Many times his choices do not line up with what the reader wishes for him, and yet I think any of us would be hard pressed to judge him. How can we after knowing everything he has been through? At the heart of it, he is just a person trying his best to play the hand he was dealt, much like the rest of us.
By the end, I found myself overflowing with compassion for Demon, and the real children who are struggling with these issues. Wanting them all so badly to receive the love and care they deserve. In my opinion, that’s the real win of the book. It gets us to feel deeply for someone we have no ties with. Having empathy in spite of a life that has made us numb, feels like a collective step in the right direction.
