My abandonment

Peter Rock, 1967-

Book - 2009

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FICTION/Rock, Peter
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Review by Booklist Review

Rock's previous novels and stories have been imbued with a sense of unease and uncertainty (The Unsettling, 2006). So it is with this deeply unsettling and finely wrought tale. It's narrated matter-of-factly by 13-year-old Caroline, who lives furtively in Forest Park, a large nature reserve on the edge of Portland, Oregon, with her father, who has turned his back on society. Their lives revolve around remaining invisible to the larger world. Homeschooled in the woods and at a public library, Caroline appears fully at home with minimal possessions and without much human contact. At first the lives of father and daughter seem nearly idyllic, but Rock deftly ratchets up the uncertainties, and the idyllic edges past the unusual toward the unthinkable and the tragic. Based on a true story (think Krakauer's Into the Wild), My Abandonment is a haunting novel, masterfully told.--Gaughan, Thomas Copyright 2009 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

The engaging but limited perspective of 13-year-old Caroline, "the hillbilly girl that lived in the park," reveals a highly circumscribed world. When first met, Caroline and Father are scavenging for materials to make a shelter in the "forest park" outside of Portland, Ore., where they seem to be hiding out. They make cautious trips into the city to the supermarket and the library, but a lapse by Caroline brings police attention, and they are taken into custody. Jean Bauer, whose profession is unclear, helps Father secure employment and brings pots and pans and school clothes for Caroline. Who are these two? Caroline walks "past posters with my face on them, my old name, and no one sees me." Father says: "If I weren't your father... how could I have walked right into your backyard and walked away with you and no one said a word?" This is a tale of survival, of love and attachment, of mystery and alienation. It is an utterly entrancing book, a bow to Thoreau and a nod to the detective story. Every step of this narrative, despite providing more questions than answers, rings true. (Mar.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review

Rock's fifth novel (after The Bewildered) is narrated by 13-year-old Caroline, who lives in a woodsy area near Portland, OR, with her father, not in a tidy suburban neighborhood but in a cave. They visit the city periodically, carefully dressed in city clothes so as not to attract attention, where Father picks up his government checks "for being in a war." It's up to Caroline to calm her father during his frequent nightmares about helicopters swarming and rattling the night. Their unconventional life changes suddenly when the authorities swoop in to take charge of Caroline and her father and send them to a farm where Father is put to work. Even though Caroline is content with the routine and their small but clean living quarters, Father still can't tolerate being confined, and they escape back into the woods only to meet tragedy again. The novel has many uneasy moments and allusions to stories left untold in Caroline's life, but Rock's insight into his characters' worries and hopes propels the story to its emotional conclusion. A compelling read; recommended for all fiction collections.-Donna Bettencourt, Mesa Cty. P.L., Grand Junction, CO (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

Does Father know best? His teenage daughter is forced to wonder after they're evicted from their city-park cave in this harrowing fifth novel from Rock (Writing/Reed Coll.; The Bewildered, 2005, etc.). Caroline and Father had lived in the spacious park in Portland, Ore., for four years, Caroline tells us via her journal. After Caroline's mother's death, Father and Caroline were temporarily separated, but when Caroline was nine Father removed her secretly from her foster parents in Idaho. They have made a stable home for themselves in a Portland park. Father is scrupulous about housekeeping. He supervises her education; dictionaries and encyclopedias do the rest. Caroline has taught herself about the forest. She knows where the morels are. She can climb trees and smell animals. Though Father is strict, he allows her to roam. (He's a vet, a recovering alcoholic and a Thoreauvian idealist; we don't know more than that.) The 13-year-old will look back on these as happy years; no friends, true, but she has her talisman Randy, a plastic horse. For his little autodidact, Rock has found just the right voice: forthright, with a singular purity. As a result, we care enormously about her fate. Everything changes for the pair when a jogger discovers their hideaway. Armed cops break it up. Father and Caroline are put in the custody of separate social workers. Once they find no evidence of abuse, they settle the pair on a horse farm; Father is to do chores, while Caroline will go to a regular school. No, decides Father. "Regular won't fit you." They steal away, back to Portland, living on the streets despite the newly assertive Caroline's protests. Father makes dumb mistakes and becomes increasingly paranoid, though his devotion to Caroline is constant. Away from the city again, in the mountains, Father will make his dumbest mistake, leading to catastrophe. Caroline's intuition, keener than his own, might have saved them. A moving evocation of life on the fringes, sparking many questions about our regulated society. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

I like to go barefoot. It is almost impossible to climb a tree wearing shoes. I cannot go barefoot in the city since it is dangerous and does not look right so it draws attention. In the woods it is fine. It is also fine to sing in the woods but there is no reason to sing loudly. If you can hear yourself, that is enough. If you had a friend you could walk close together and sing softly. With my fingernail I scratch words into some of the leaves around. Hello friend, I scratch, and the green goes darker under my fingernail so someone walking along might read that. It's not good to leave any signs but still I do this. I do not collect things since collections draw attention. It is possible to collect things in your mind or to gather them and one way to do this is to write them. I will never scratch anything into the bark of a tree since that hurts them but sometimes I will onto a leaf. Excerpted from My Abandonment: A Novel by Peter Rock All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.