The Love Curse of the Rumbaughs -- Jack Gantos

The first paragraph of Love Curse of the Rumbaughs:

I expect you might think the story I am about to tell you is untrue or perversely gothic in some unhealthy way. You might even think I’ve exaggerated the facts in order to twist this book into a modern-day metaphor on the exploitation of human creation, as did Mary Shelley with Frankenstein. Maybe you’ll think I’m trying to spook you with a psychological tale of a murderous double as Edgar Allen Poe wrote in “William Wilson,” or stir up family shame as Hawthorne did in The House of the Seven Gables. But my story is entirely different.

I do very much hope that this book will inspire teen fans (and grown-up fans) to give the gothic genre a try. Ivy’s story involves the mystery of her paternity, taxidermy, nature vs. nurture, the history of the eugenics movement and a love for her mother that is so desperately passionate that it could be described as a curse:

At times like this, when she hugged me so tightly, I thought I’d rather be recessed inside her than be my own person, as if being her heart and pumping blood through her veins all day and night from the red niche of her chest would be more satisfying than looking into the mirror and seeing my own living face.

As is proper in any worthy gothic work, the description swiftly ranges from gorgeously surreal to downright icky:

Once, a coal tunnel dug by mistake under the edge of town caved in. Above it, buildings staggered, then toppled. Trees slipped down holes like vanishing scarves in a magic trick. The older ladies gathered on the banks of the open trench, calling out names, hoping their lost men might be alive like the French troops who has been trapped in their elaborate tunnels during World War II, only to surface years later, blinking and pale as grubs.

“Trees slipped down holes like vanishing scarves in a magic trick.” I love that. 

I find it impressive when an unknown, first-time author can make me forget that their characters are fictional—that they can be so convincing in their storytelling that I forget it’s a story. I find it even more impressive when a very well known author can make me forget who is telling me the story.

I forgot all about Jack Gantos while I was reading The Love Curse of the Rumbaughs. I didn’t think of Joey Pigza, Rotten Ralph or Hole in my Life. There was only Mount Pleasant, Ivy and her mother, Ab and Dolph and their mother, and the Rumbaugh family history.

Due to the lack of swearing, it is entirely possible that this book will go unnoticed by the challenge-happy citizens who reside in Fascist-ville. But because of the content, I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it ends up being attacked at some town/school board meeting somewhere. This is not a book for your young Joey Pigza fanatic. It’s definitely a book for people who are already familiar with the gothic genre, but also for older (I’d say at least teenaged) fans of the darker aspects of Polly Horvath’s The Canning Season. My guess is that two out of three readers will, at the least, find it disturbing. But that lucky third will love it for its delicious creepiness.

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Amazon | Indiebound

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Author page.