For his first US publication, Canadian writer Glover has a go at a southern redneck novel. While he doesn't come up with a...

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THE SOUTH WILL RISE AT NOON

For his first US publication, Canadian writer Glover has a go at a southern redneck novel. While he doesn't come up with a royal flush, he still plays a good rambunctious hand. Tully Stamper, an archetypal southern four-flusher himself, owns a lamp shop and has a flair for drawing figures. He gets released from the county jail in Gomez Gap, Florida, and goes home to find his ex-wife in his bed with her film director husband, the ""new Fassbinder."" They're in Gomez Gap to make a Civil War epic, and Tully, jack-of-all-trades, spends the rest of the novel trying to figure out the film-crazy town. Along the way, he runs into a veritable circus of comic types, including the aforementioned director (who, though he calls himself Otto Osterwalder, is actually mousy Walter Hebel, once a local, in disguise); Danger Babcox (Tully's lover/ex-lover); Julius Wachtel (a Harvard-educated narc); Baldossaro Azzopardi (an expert on seagull communication); and Ruth E. Appeldorn (an animal behaviorist or ""birdwoman,"" who finally becomes Tully's true love). Tully, the narrator, entertains the reader with a fast-paced glimpse into his lovelorn existence and a town in heat over its momentary fame. The book bubbles along with reversals and recognitions, high jinks and shenanigans, but without a whole lot happening. It seldom rings false, but, still, it's overly long, and the plot turns tiresome during a long climax (a real race riot on the movie set) in which Tully flies his true colors (he's a sweetie of a redneck whose better instincts finally prevail) and gets chained to a pine tree. Eventually, of course, he ends up a happy man, in the sack with his birdwoman. Though it wears a little thin, Glover obviously had a good time playing his southern hand, and for the most part so does the reader.

Pub Date: Jan. 1, 1988

ISBN: 0864924089

Page Count: -

Publisher: Viking

Review Posted Online: N/A

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1988

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