A brisk, melancholic road trip novel set in 1967 ... Some of the best scenes in Dodge City depict baroquely self-destructive behavior, though here they’re presented in a gentler register ... I found myself thinking about why deWitt decided to write about 1967 now, why the story of a sensitive, not-terribly-political young man fleeing an unjust war felt urgent. It seems to me he’s saying, in a calm but firm voice, that sometimes doing the right thing isn’t actually complicated. Sometimes, when the call comes from a despotic government to commit violence against your conscience, the bravest thing you can do is refuse.
Downbeat and irreverent, Mr. deWitt’s road-trip novel glances at, though never lingers over, themes of responsibility, abandonment and agency. It throws in a touching consolation at the ending, too, so it isn’t only bad vibes.
Wry ... Deadpan ... Lee usually proceeds with such equanimity that you might glance at your phone for a moment and miss deWitt mentioning that 'every single thing that could be spoiled was spoiled.' Such is the stealthy nature of this novel’s quiet despair ... I feel irrationally protective of this sweet book. DeWitt is one of very few novelists whose words I would recognize in the dark.
