“A Story of Stories”: Karen Russell’s newest novel, “The Antidote” https://ift.tt/pjClq9N
Nearly fifteen years after her debut and Pulitzer-finalist Swamplandia! dazzled readers, Karen Russell emerges with her second novel, The Antidote. Opening in the fictional town of Uz, Nebraska, The Antidote is a story about stories — of memories lost, revived, surrendered, altered, and ultimately woven together. It blends historical fiction and magical realism as it follows the perspectives of five central characters: a prairie witch, a star basketball player, a government photographer with a time-traveling camera, a humble wheat farmer, and a mysterious scarecrow. It follows the course of their lives after the devastation of Black Sunday, a catastrophic dust storm that blackened the Midwest sky, as the catalyst that breaks the people of Uz wide open.
“For those early moments in the dark I was nothing but the fear of floating off. What had happened to me while I slept? It felt as if a knife had scraped the marrow from my bones. Something vital inside me had liquified and drained away, and in its place was this new weightlessness. Lightness and wrongness, a blanketing whiteness that ran up my spine and seeped out of my mouth. Bankrupt was the word that rose in my mind.”
These are Antonia’s opening thoughts, the most provocative of Russell’s speakers. She is a Vault — a prairie witch — with the power of being filled by people’s memories. She calls herself “The Antidote” because, with her, customers find complete relief from everything they want to forget. They come to her to surrender their memories, whether precious or burdensome, and she stores them within her like a bank stores money. This transaction leaves the customer a cloud-footed amnesiac with no recollection of pain, and it leaves her with the weight of days forgotten. Antonia’s story is one of immense loss, and she is a woman who is always searching — for her son, who was taken from her as a living infant from the bleak, cultish Home of Unwed Mothers and pronounced dead; for lost deposits, those hundreds of memories Black Sunday ripped from her; and for rest, safety, security. Through this search, she becomes entangled with Asphodel and Harp Oletsky. The former is a fiery, anger-fueled teenage basketball player; the latter, her uncle, is a lonely immigrant farmer whose field is the only one untouched by the dust storms. As their stories progress, Harp’s eyes are opened to magical realities, and his heart is opened to those around him. Asphodel finds true companionship, and Antonia realizes that the mysterious Scarecrow standing in the middle of their green wheat may have the answers she so desperately desires.
Russell intricately parallels The Antidote‘s magical method of forgetting the truth with a magical method of uncovering: Cleo Allfrey’s camera. Cleo, the New Deal government photographer sent to capture the reality of life in the Dust Bowl, does just that. However, her photographs pit what is and what could have been against each other. Her camera has the power to travel through time, and through its lens, we see the underbelly of Uz exposed through the Sheriff, a reliable customer of Antonia’s, and a villainous man willing to do whatever it takes to cover up a string of murders and protect his election campaign. We also see the past reality of abundance in the Dust Bowl. Her photographs show the forgotten truth: Nebraska is stolen land. Had it been left to American Indian tribes, there would be no worries of depleting topsoil and raging dust storms. Rather, there would be lush farmland and harvests on rooftops and serene faces. Her story, alongside Antonia’s, reminds us of the importance of history, of origins.
This book is not a quick read; it is one to sit with and chew. The language is melodic and thoughtful, each line working to slowly build to the novel’s dream-like ending: a downpour in the Dust Bowl. Russell’s sentences are full of vibrant imagery and metaphor, but constantly so – because of this, there is an overall lack of stylistic variety within the piece. There is very little differentiation between the characters’ voices within their respective narratives, and as a result, it is harder to deeply connect with them. Asphodel thinks and speaks with the same cadence and language as the prairie witch and the prairie witch as the mystical Scarecrow; therefore, the piece becomes alienating at times. Additionally, as the ending of the novel brings each of the five perspectives together, there is an overall lack of direction in its resolution. It felt rushed after such a long buildup rooted in the town’s hopelessness.
Within its final pages, there is an explosion of emotion with the farmer’s enlightening speech, an angry mob, unbelievable photographs, multiple gunshots, and a deluge of rain. In spite of this action-packed ending, many questions remain unanswered. Is this novel a commentary on the theft and destruction of land from the Native Americans? An observation on the weakness of human minds? A historical tale of loss and rebirth? Each angle of each narrative posits a different purpose, yet Russell leaves the narrative open-ended with the words, “We are full of days again.” After the storm, the memories once surrendered to the Vaults reunite with their original carriers. With this restoration, Russell presents the idea that even in the midst of uncertainty, we, as humans, are responsible for our days. We can only take control of our lives if we have the courage to remember them.
FICTION The Antidote
By Karen Russell
Knopf
Published March 11, 2025
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