It seems that I ought to bestow more than three stars upon a winner of the National Book Award. And I can fathom the reason behind its victory - the plot and pacing are truly excellent. The characters are distinct and captivating, providing a genuine peek into the life of a small southern town during the first half of the 20th century.

Paris Trout, a respected member of the community, shoots a young black girl without any rhyme or reason. His lawyer encounters great difficulty in persuading him that he has committed any wrongdoing, and the reaction of a significant portion of the town bolsters Trout's perception that he is being unjustly prosecuted. Indeed, there is some subdued disapproval, but that is as far as the sentiment extends.

Meanwhile, Trout plunges deeper into paranoia and madness. One reviewer aptly described it as "bleakly fascinating", and I wholeheartedly concur with that assessment. It is a work that manages to grip the reader despite its rather dark and disturbing subject matter. The vivid portrayal of the town and its inhabitants, along with the complex and troubled psyche of the protagonist, makes it a truly remarkable piece of literature.

I read this article a long time ago.

As time has passed, I don't recall many of the specific details. However, one thing that still sticks in my mind is that I really liked it.

Moreover, there was a killing in the middle that truly shocked me. It was such a powerful moment that it left a lasting impression.

I firmly believe that this article is well worth another look in the future.

By revisiting it, I hope to rediscover those forgotten details and perhaps gain a new perspective on the story.

It could be that with a fresh read, I will uncover new layers of meaning and appreciate it even more than I did the first time.

So, despite the passage of time and the fading of my memory, I am determined to give this article another chance and see what it has to offer.

Paris Trout is a powerful social drama that unfolds around the heinous murder of a black girl in a small Georgia town shortly after the conclusion of the Second World War.

The captivating aspect is that Trout, a white shopkeeper and loan shark, not only doesn't deny the killing but also lacks any sense of guilt or shame. In his warped view, the girl's death is solely her own doing for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and behaving in a manner that allegedly provoked his violent outburst. He is truly bewildered as to why the case is proceeding to court and firmly anticipates that the proceedings will be stopped or that he will emerge victorious.

Dexter masterfully tells the tale from multiple perspectives, including Paris Trout himself, Rosie Sayers (the tragic victim), Harry Seagraves (Trout's lawyer), Hanna Trout (his wife), and Carl Bonner (Hanna's lawyer). Seagraves, Hanna, and Bonner are all repelled by Trout yet find themselves trapped in his escalating madness.

Trout is a truly hideous character, a grotesque caricature of the Jim Crow era. Dexter deftly uses the changing perceptions of Trout to delve deep into the ingrained racism and social norms of a society torn apart by race and class.

While there are no earth-shattering surprises or twists, the story functions as a morality play, gradually sliding towards a somewhat inevitable conclusion. It makes for an interesting, albeit slightly flat read that loses a bit of its momentum towards the end.

More problematically, from the trial onwards, the black family and the entire black community of Cotton Point vanish entirely from the narrative. This is a telling and deeply troubling omission, as if they have been written out of the fictional account of a heinous crime committed against them.

Despite its title, this book isn't solely about Paris Trout. Instead, it delves into the lives and interactions of all the people who come into contact with him.

Paris Trout is a well-known figure from start to finish. Even the unexpected actions he takes are completely in line with the behavior that his fellow townspeople have long known, despised, and often respected and feared. As the reader, you quickly come to understand and anticipate Paris's actions, which can be quite terrifying.

The townspeople rationalize Paris's despicable actions by labeling him as "insane." However, they still allow him to operate within their community. They enable him to take advantage of the poorest members without consequence, while simultaneously building a social barrier around him to keep the white people in town largely out of his reach. The book explores the various motives and consequences for those who cross that barrier and interact with him. Some do so out of a sense of obligation, others due to a twist of fate, some because of naivete, others because of a sense of righteousness, and still others because they are intrigued.

You might assume that this is a highly intellectual book, but it is actually written in a simple and straightforward manner. The facts are presented clearly for both the characters and the readers to respond to. It is a thrilling page-turner, full of suspense and not suitable for the faint of heart or young readers. Generally, I don't believe in imposing age limits on who should read works of literary fiction, but in this rare case, it is justified. The author, Pete Dexter, has now made it onto my "must read" list. Once again, I am懊恼 for not discovering the works of this great writer sooner.

Heh heh! This is one of those stories that I have discovered. Or perhaps, what? I read this however many years ago and I just now remembered that as I purchased another Dexter story, Spooner, from Borders.

I saw the "Paris Trout" there in that copy, so here I am adding it to the list of books of mine. Sue me.

I only glanced at the description. Black/white, etc.

Maybe it reminds me of Too Late the Phalatrope? Is that how you spell it? Alan Patton? Or perhaps Waiting for the Barbarians? That sort of thing. The South.

I recall enjoying this story, being entertained by it. And this "Spooner" by the same man says he, Dexter, is a "national book award winner".

With this one? Paris Trout? I no longer have my copy, alas.

Now if I could only remember some of the other titles I've read. There is that group. I could pose the questions there. Onward upward.

In numerous instances of the age-old conflict between Good and Evil, Evil often holds a more captivating allure. It appears that authors are frequently drawn to the challenge of enlightening us about the motives that drive Evil to act as it does. We might emerge from such explorations with an understanding that aligns with our conceptions of human nature. When Evil's thought processes are expounded upon, they may seem plausible, and bad behavior could be propelled by unfortunate circumstances just as much as by other factors. Depending on the extent of the depravity, we might even resort to the familiar "There but for the grace of God" refrain. However, Paris Trout is not such a case. With this one, it's more along the lines of: "There but for the fact that I'm not a nasty, racist sociopath..." Even the omniscient narrator is reluctant to fathom him, and perhaps that's for the best.

Paris Trout is the archetypal bad guy. He murders a 14-year-old black girl in Georgia, incited by little more than his own callousness. What proves to be truly interesting is the town's reaction to the entire affair. As more details are unveiled, there is less and less to like. Even his lawyer, who is the most well-developed character in the book, would concur.

Dexter also penned Deadwood (which later gained fame through HBO) and the screenplay for Mulholland Falls. Any pattern of bleakness might be linked to an incident in the early 80s when he was employed at the Philadelphia Daily News. According to Wikipedia, he was assaulted by an enraged, intoxicated mob armed with baseball bats in response to a column he wrote. I detected some of that in this book.

A book-sale find led me to a novel that I had heard about for years. And I ended up devouring it in just a couple of days. Dexter's writing style is completely straightforward. You can clearly sense the journalist within him. However, for a novel of this kind, this direct style works far better than a more allusive one would. The setting of this story is in late 1950's Georgia, which is so distant from the present day. His recall of the tiniest details is thus necessary. He powerfully evokes a gritty place and time. It's as if he transports the reader right into that specific era and location. The vivid descriptions make it easy to picture the scenes and the people. The story unfolds in a way that keeps the reader engaged from start to finish. Dexter's ability to bring this bygone era to life through his writing is truly remarkable.

This is a dark, disturbing, and masterful piece of storytelling. It is truly disturbing, to the extent that one might wonder if it is a recommendable read today. However, I firmly believe it is, yet one must be cautious of its potential impact.

The characters in this work are extremely real, and the storyline is highly believable. This is precisely what makes it so unsettling. The writing style is sparse, yet it is filled with minute details that vividly paint the scene.

I happened to read this book immediately after finishing the novel, “This Is Happiness”. Despite the fact that the two books could not be more different in terms of setting or story, they both manage to wonderfully immerse the reader in a historical and cultural context. I am constantly in awe of the writers who are capable of creating such works.

It is effortless to understand why this book won the National Book Award. Its unique blend of darkness, authenticity, and masterful storytelling truly sets it apart.

A story about evil reveals how people, when forced to face it, will attempt the strategies they have always used to deal with life's hardships. Some may try to flee, others to ignore or avoid it, negotiate with it, accommodate it, mitigate it, or fight it either in a guerrilla war style or directly as a hero. However, if you have ever confronted evil in your life, it's no secret that all these strategies often fail. Evil has a toxicity that corrupts everything it touches.

Paris Trout is based on a true crime that took place in the 1950s in Milledgeville, Georgia, the hometown of the great Southern writer Flannery O’Connor. Eight years after the events, she wrote her own version in “The Partridge Festival,” a creepy and haunting piece that is often overlooked as it never made it into any of her story collections. It can be found in her collected works: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/4... I encountered FOC’s version first, a deeply dark comic narrative (in the best FOC tradition) about self-delusion, loss of innocence, and confronting the Shadow side of oneself, where evil is represented in a shockingly slapstick manner as a dangling spider of madness, with reflections of it within all of us. FOC used and altered the facts of the crime for her own fictional purposes, and her story is not a history in any way. (FOC fan alert: The real woman who worked in the real store of the real shooter had a real wooden leg! For real! See the story “Good Country People.”)

Pete Dexter also lived in Milledgeville when these shootings occurred. He would have been about 10 years old. I have been told (by a scholar who should know; I haven't been able to find a non-fiction account myself) that Paris Trout is a fictionalized but relatively faithful retelling of the main events. Regardless, the novel is a faithful and true portrayal of human nature in the best realistic, character-driven tradition. Dexter’s writing is beautiful and spare, gripping me from beginning to end. This is the sort of fiction I grew up on, 20th-century gritty novels written mostly by white men, and I have drifted away from that type of reading experience. Paris Trout is a great reminder of how insightful and moving that style of storytelling can be.

Pete Dexter has masterfully crafted a truly chilling portrayal of a sociopath in Paris Trout.

Simultaneously, he presents a warm and detailed portrait of his small town and the various social strata within it.

I found myself completely immersed in this world for two whole days.

I have encountered one or two individuals whom I felt were close to Trout's level of depravity or had the potential for it, which made the character seem highly believable to me.

The tragedy of such a monster lies in how much he can get away with and for how long.

This is because the vast majority of people are good-natured and yearn for harmony.

Dexter is truly brilliant in exploring this aspect of the story.

I have to admit that I would love to tinker with his punctuation.

As is often the case, there are run-ons (comma splices here), and only about one in five really works for me.

Sometimes, I wished for more vivid physical descriptions of the characters and the landscape.

Nevertheless, the novel is so richly imagined that I couldn't help but love it.

I delighted in its incisive insights into the characters' minds and emotions, as well as its page-turning plot.

Telling the story from shifting perspectives, in a distanced third-person point of view, added an interesting and moving dimension to the narrative.

Overall, it was a captivating read that left a lasting impression on me.

THE DECADENCE OF SOUTHERN MORALS


This plot is not novel. The South was indeed a terrifying place to reside, particularly if one's skin was Black. The author's portrayal of how Blacks were judged, mistreated, and deprived of their fundamental rights as human beings and citizens of the United States is truly disheartening. I typically avoid reading such books as the anger that simmers within me at the way some people can treat others they deem inferior is overwhelming. The condescending names still used to refer to those of the Black race are a stain on our society. This plot feels so real, as if the author had actually lived in a town like Cotton Point, USA. Sadly, my heart goes out to the poor fourteen-year-old Rosie, who faced death with only a whisper of "Lord Jesus" before slipping into an eternal sleep. Even in death, she was denied respect by the white physician and his staff, who callously showed her bullet wounds and described the damage they had caused. I have personal knowledge of how Blacks were treated in those days. I vividly remember traveling by train (SILVER METER) with my mother and brother. We were not permitted to eat in the dining car, so my mother had to pack food in a shoe box. The Black train conductor would come through with warm sodas (cokes), without cups or ice. He might have had some sweet cakes, all presented in a wooden shoe box that I later recognized as the kind used by shoe shiners to store their polishes and rags. Small Southern towns still carry these abhorrent prejudices. The Mason Dixie Line still rears its ugly head. Paris Trout was the embodiment of racism, an extension of White Supremacists like the Klu Klux Klan, which was and still is ugly. There is no sympathy for Paris Trout and his ways. The author's description of him as crazy may explain his dark feelings, but did he blame his mother for his lifestyle? The strange bond between them is unfortunately not uncommon.

Paris Trout is a captivating novel that centers around the eponymous character. He is a clear-cut psychopath, yet his wealth and status as a businessman lead the citizens of his small town, Cotton Point, Georgia, to turn a blind eye to his violent nature.

The story commences with an attack by Trout on a local black family. The white population of the town, not wanting to be seen as siding with a black family against a white man, chooses to ignore Trout's actions and allows him to manipulate the legal system. In this hard-boiled drama, Trout's wife Hanna and his good-guy lawyer Harry Seagraves are also involved.

The book is presented as the account of a very bad man terrorizing a sleepy town. However, what makes it truly amazing is the way Dexter gradually turns the tables. It becomes evident that the complacency of the townspeople is a far greater sin than the murderousness of the man who lives among them.

This tale of murder is as raw as it gets, lacking any subtlety or cute plot twists. Dexter's prose is so potent that audiences may find themselves actually sympathizing with Trout, the main character. Rarely in fiction does a character so firmly believe in his own righteousness and be so obsessed with his cause while setting out to destroy all those he perceives as having betrayed him.

Although it reads like genre fiction with its gripping suspense and at times remarkable violence, the subtle exploration of the psychology of a small town elevates the book to the level of a remarkable literary novel.