Walking Bones by
Charlotte Carter
pbk out May 02
(Serpent's Tail)
at £7.99
When Albert Press, rich, well-dressed and white, propositions Nettie
Rogers, ex-model, designer of hand-bags and black, in a Manhattan bar,
it is in such offensive terms that Nettie's instinctive reaction is to
smash a waterglass into the side of Press's face, sending him to
hospital for thirty-one stitches.
Nettie too is shattered, mentally shattered until, by chance, she runs
into Press again. The encounter, an opportunity for confrontation,
instead evolves erotically, revealing vulnerabilities on both sides.
Thus begins a strange aberrant relationship, sado-masochistic in tone,
explored with great subtlety by Carter in short chapters headed A
through to Z, as if to take it apart, step by step.
Other characters include Karen, an on-off lover of Press, a police
detective determined to find Press's assailant, and Nettie's long-time
gay New York friend Rufe, witty, sexually knowing and protective.
Through each of them we get to know a little more about both Nettie and
Albert.
Carter brings all these elements together to form a picture of a hip,
sophisticated society where many of the surface tensions of race have
been displaced to the deepest reaches of the heart. Its shocking
epilogue (prologue?) is a masterstroke. Not simply an 'explanation', it
causes you to return to the book and re-evaluate its every nuance. And
finally its picture of white male sexuality just curls up there in the
brain and festers.
The book is beautifully written, the prose pared down, tight and
disciplined, alternately hugely observant, hard-edged or erotic. Nor has
Carter lost her sense of humour - Rufe's one-liners are a joy in
themselves.
"A little gem" said The Bookseller, a month or two back, one to look
out for. They were right. This is a fine novel, deep, dark and
disturbing, Charlotte Carter's best book to date. Don't miss it.
