Peter Dexter's writing is truly fabulous.

His work is so captivating that it's no wonder it won the National Book Award.

This particular piece is a gothic tale that unfolds in a small Georgia town at the end of World War II.

It delves into the dark themes of murder, injustice, and mayhem, painting a vivid and disturbing picture of a community in turmoil.

The story centers around a sociopath who descends deeper and deeper into madness, his actions sending shockwaves through the town.

As the narrative progresses, readers are drawn into a web of mystery and suspense, eager to uncover the truth behind the events that are unfolding.

Dexter's masterful storytelling keeps the reader on the edge of their seat from beginning to end, making this a must-read for fans of gothic literature.

The insistent thought keeps coming to me: Paris Trout is America, lawless and fucked up.

Paris Trout the novel can indeed serve as a prototype of Southern Gothic fiction. In a dusty town of the Jim Crow South, a brutal crime occurs. The writer then proceeds to unwind its aftermath through the diverse perspectives of multiple characters, while simultaneously exploring the values and attitudes that led to a society as warped and perverted as Dixie. It's not necessary to put it in the past tense either. As Nixon's Southern Strategy has reached its rancid zenith in the form of the Orange Ogre, the n-word (just one example) has also regained popularity in white American discourse, spreading as far north as Bill Maher's mouth and all the way west to the spray-painted gates of LeBron James' LA mansion.

You might have thought Dixie was dead, but you'd be wrong. It is very much alive, and through its takeover of the US government, it is about to cause chaos on the entire planet.

But let's return to Dexter's novel. The author drew his inspiration from the real-life mass murderer Marion Stembridge, a sullen shopkeeper and loan shark operating out of the pleasant town of Milledgeville, GA. In 1949, he callously gunned down two black women, and four years later, he also shot dead two white lawyers before blowing his own brains out with a.38 revolver. Dexter himself lived in Milledgeville for a short time, which is how he discovered the story. Although he is by no means the town's most famous literary resident (that honor belongs to Flannery O'Connor), Dexter does justice to his story. He skillfully portrays a time and place that was both complacent and profoundly criminal. And although it's nearly impossible for me to step into the warped and hateful mind of the average Dixie cracker, let alone a cold-blooded killer like Paris Trout, Dexter bravely takes on that challenge as well.

Although, for no apparent reason, the book has faded from popular memory, it was successful enough in its own time to win the National Book Award, no less! It was also made into a movie, equally forgotten, starring Dennis Hopper as the titular monster. No matter. Even if you know nothing about the backstory or the Hollywood version, this novel is worth reading. In its own understated way, it is a classic example of Southern fiction.

Pete Dexter is truly an outstanding author, and my experience with "Paris Trout" only further solidified the positive impression I had from reading "Deadwood."

Both of these works belong to different genres - "Deadwood" is a Western and "Paris Trout" is a Southern Gothic. However, what makes them remarkable is that Dexter manages to take what could have been a run-of-the-mill story with typical characters and transform them into genuine works of art.

Dexter is highly skilled in constructing a plot that is filled with tension. The sense of impending disaster looms large, yet the story progresses in small, seemingly inconsequential steps, much like in real life. This realism makes the resulting events even more terrifying, intense, and powerful.

In fact, one of the highest compliments I can give is that I simply couldn't put this book down. I picked it up and read it straight through the night until I had finished every single page. It was that captivating and engaging. Pete Dexter's talent is truly something to be admired.

Amazingly written characters! They are so incredibly subtle that I find myself still thinking about this book even though I finished it over a week ago. The author has managed to create a world and characters that have truly left an impression on me. Each character is complex and multi-dimensional, with their own unique personalities, motives, and flaws. It's as if they have come to life on the pages of the book. I can't help but wonder what they are doing now, long after I've turned the last page. This is a sign of a truly great book, one that has the power to stay with you and continue to influence your thoughts and emotions long after you've finished reading it.

Paris Trout [1988] National Book Award Winner.

Whatever qualities it had that won it the National Book Award were lost on me. The writing was fine, but there was nothing particularly interesting about it. I wasn't invested in any of the characters. They lacked depth and weren't drawn consistently enough for me to develop any sense of what to expect from them. Except Paris Trout, I guess. I was supposed to hate him and I did.

The story turned out to be not for me. The first half was focused on the murder of a young girl and the lack of remorse by her shooter, which had the potential to be a good courtroom drama, I suppose. But we heard the verdict half way through, and then the second half completely fell apart. It lacked focus and was all over the place. The violence against women seemed to reflect male fantasy.

The setting was the deep South, which I haven't had much luck with lately as I just DNFd another book set in Georgia. It wasn't my kind of story, and ultimately not a book for me.

I embarked on reading this book by initially perusing the back cover. I had the impression that it would predominantly focus on race relations and racial identity within the south during the 1950s.

Regrettably, after the first chapter, the black side of the story, specifically the victims of the murder, seemed to vanish almost entirely from the narrative. It was replaced with a perspective that was solely centered on the white characters. What's more, the book was overly burdened with tawdry sex scenes and rather feeble attempts at writing something profound.

The more I delved into its pages, the greater my disappointment grew. I had been yearning for something truly profound, anything that could offer insights and触动 my emotions. However, in the end, I was left with very little. All that remained was a wish that I hadn't squandered three days of my time on this particular book.

It's truly disheartening when a book that holds such promise fails to deliver on its potential.

Of the times when men were truly men, when power was manifested through the barrel of a gun, and when the real rules were those negotiated outside the courthouses where money changed hands.

The novel vividly depicts the deep Southern-American town of Georgia, Cotton Point, with an eerie undertone of gun-slinging machismo pervading its milieu. In this place, it was believed that if someone got shot, 'they shot themselves'.

Paris Trout, a relentless businessman (the kind who still possessed the 'first nickel' he made), a lender of money to the poor colored folks, would go to unthinkable lengths to recover the money owed. Trout is found guilty of killing a fifteen-year-old colored girl but manages to bribe his way out, as he knew all the'soft places in the law'.

'Even if we're all on the same road, Paris Trout doesn't have any brakes.'

The book is a rich smorgasbord of the era when a middle-aged white man still felt entitled to inflict atrocities on those he believed asked for it. It is a thrilling crime novel, and to write about it any further would be like dimming the light of its chilling and brilliant narrative.

Pete Dexter writes with the perspective of the 'four-cornered' omniscient force, captivating readers with his masterful storytelling.

In today's world, with all the turmoil and unrest that we witness on television, it can sometimes be extremely difficult to recall just how far we have truly advanced in terms of race relations.

This piece offers a psychological exploration of a small town in Georgia during the early 1970s. The name Paris Trout for the title character is indeed a most fitting one. It seems to possess a certain duality, being both elevated and base at the same time.

After reading this, I found myself having the urge to wash my hands several times. It's as if the story has left a certain residue, a sense of unease and discomfort.

It makes one reflect on the complex and often troubled history of race in America, and how far we still have to go in achieving true equality and understanding.

The small town setting serves as a microcosm of the larger social issues that were plaguing the nation during that time period.

Through the eyes of the characters and their interactions, we gain a deeper understanding of the prejudices and biases that existed, and the toll they took on the lives of those involved.

It's a powerful and thought-provoking piece that forces us to confront the uncomfortable truths of our past.

The National Book Award is a highly prestigious literary honor in the United States.

The winner of this award is someone who has achieved remarkable excellence in the field of literature.

Their work has captivated readers, critics, and scholars alike with its depth, originality, and artistry.

The winning book often explores profound themes, offers unique perspectives, and showcases the author's mastery of the written word.

It has the power to transport readers to different worlds, evoke strong emotions, and leave a lasting impact on their minds and hearts.

The recognition and acclaim that come with winning the National Book Award can catapult an author's career to new heights and ensure that their work is widely read and studied for years to come.

It is a testament to the author's talent, dedication, and passion for literature.

Accept for a moment that you are a racist in the same sense that a potato or a carrot or a radish grows below ground and out of sight. I view myself that way, and I've thought a lot about it for many years.

It's highly improbable that I was born with this trait, similar to being born right-handed or having white eyebrows. It's far more likely that I was influenced by one or more of my parents. In my case, it could be my angry-at-the-world stepfather, some of my friends and classmates, or perhaps my drunken Uncle Chuck.

How this racism got inside of me doesn't truly matter. It's there, and I have to confront it. It's like a slow-growing cancerous tumor, just as harmful and deadly as any melanoma.

A book like "Paris Trout" serves as the surgical excision, the chemo, and the radiation for racism. Pete Dexter's exquisite novel transports us to the place where the potato, the carrot, and the radish are born and thrive. It forces racism's face to the surface, similar to a festering boil of poisonous pus that requires lancing. Most of it is ugly material presented in a most remarkable way. I hope you'll read it too.

It has been nearly two months since I completed this book, and yet I am still constantly reflecting on one particular scene within it that truly sent shivers down my spine.

Just imagine, for the sake of a rather maniacal concept, it presents you with one of the most extraordinary and unique ways to utilize a simple bottle of mineral water.

This scene was so vivid and impactful that it has remained etched in my mind ever since. It made me think about the countless possibilities and creative interpretations that can be derived from the most ordinary of objects.

The author's ability to describe this scene in such detail and with such a sense of intrigue is truly remarkable. It has left me with a lasting impression and a newfound appreciation for the power of the written word to transport and captivate the reader.

Even now, as I look back on that scene, I can't help but wonder what other hidden gems and surprises this book has in store for those who take the time to explore its pages.

What does the name evoke?

It is definitely not at all whatever your mind conjures forth. Glamour? No less luxury? The poshest of all European capitals - Paris of France that is.

And a trout is a despicably delicious foodstuff, but a slimy member of the undertow no less. It's positively an oxymoron! Like tasteful trash. Artistic porn.

But as a novel, "Paris Trout" truly delivers the goods. It is one of those train, beach, bus reads that can keep you engaged for days.

The two most memorable, iconic, horrorshow events in the book are the inciting death of the 14-year-old girl. It is grizzly, awful, and in-your-face. The realism hooks you in for the ride. The second is the eponymous character himself, who can be positioned next to Hannibal Lecter in his lone shark attack stance. He will kill you and get away with it, using ignorance as his weapon, which may be scarier.

The sequence leading to the end feels disjointed, almost betraying the reader-writer relationship earned so naturally from page two or three.

And the point at which the novel ends feels like a validation of the White Privilege that we all wish to escape but bear witness to every day. Nepotism, racism, sexism - deep shit.

It is a true tragedy that after the court scene, the novel never returns to its initial terror and raw artistic fervor.