Coincidentally, "Losing Battles" takes place at a family reunion in about a day. There were an overwhelming number of family members to keep track of. To make matters even worse, they frequently went off on conversational tangents, which I found extremely hard to follow, or even to care about. All families are complex, but the Beechum/Renfro clan was particularly challenging for me to keep up with. At this annual reunion, Grandma is celebrating her birthday, possibly her last, and her great grandson, Jack, is coming home from Parchman Prison to his wife and young daughter, who he has never seen. Matters become even more complicated when the judge who sentenced Jack travels through their town of Banner with his wife in their Buick. Judge Moody's car first goes into a ditch (and Jack rescues them), then ends up on a mountain ledge. I had a great deal of trouble following how the car came to be on the ledge and remained there into the night.
Though I did not have a great deal of affection for the seemingly never-ending dialogue, I did take great pleasure in the descriptive passages of the story. The author's use of language to paint vivid pictures in the reader's mind was truly masterful. For example, "Stand still: your answer always comes along." (154) This simple yet profound statement holds a great deal of wisdom. Another beautiful passage is, "She read in the daytime...And that was a thing surpassing strange for a well woman to do." (294) This description adds an element of mystery and intrigue to the character. The descriptions of the setting, such as "Around then the white tablecloths, clotted with shadows, still held the light, and so did old men's white shirts, and Sunday dresses with their skirts spread round or in points on the evening hill. The tables in their line appeared strung and hinged like the Big Dipper in the night sky, and the diamonds of the other cloths seemed to repeat themselves for a space far out on the deep blue of dust that now reached to Heaven." (306) and "The cloud showed motion within, like an old transport truck piled high with crate on crate of sleepy white chickens. The moon, like an eye turned up in a trance, filmed over and seemed to turn loose from its track and to float sightless. First floating veils, then coarse dark tents were being packed across the sky, then the heavy, chained-together shapes humped after them." (367) are truly breathtaking and transport the reader into the heart of the story.