DON'T FORGET ME, BRO

A well-written tale of family dysfunction that’s sure to depress the reader from beginning to end.

Narrator Mark Barr doesn’t much like his family and hasn’t been back to Alma, West Virginia, for more than a decade. Then his oldest brother, Steve, dies of a heart attack at age 45. Mark returns to find his father as hateful as ever, his mother as weak and unpleasant, and his other brother, Greg, as disagreeable. The family plans no funeral, no memorial for Steve, who is said to have been mentally ill. So what to do about Steve’s remains: urn or grave? That is the plot. Steve had begged Mark, “Don’t forget me, bro,” and simply wanted to be buried next to Grandpa Roy. But Dad, who has contempt for his entire family, insists on cremation and on placing the ashes in an unmarked urn to remain inside the house. The issue becomes a battle of wills between Mark and Dad, with Mom and Greg largely on the sidelines. Vivid descriptions help set the mood and redeem the story: “Baloney-pink rugs spread across bulges in the tile.” “Steve—bloated, grungy, and depressed in life—would look his best dead, too.” Mark’s life away from “home” has been no prize, either. He and his girlfriend are not in love but seem too lazy to break up, even though he has struck her at least once. The fundamental problem with the book is that there is no one to sympathize with, barring Steve, who’s dead. Mark and his old man both need swift kicks in the butt, but Mom won’t do it. Greg has a lawnmower and a huge truck tire in his kitchen, though, so there’s that going for him.

Read this book for the vivid imagery and sharp dialogue. Read it for the spot-on characterizations. But if you want to care about an outcome, look for a different book.