Southernmost | Silas House

Title: Southernmost

Author: Silas House

Southernmost is a novel that feels like a long, humid drive from the Cumberland Valley of Tennessee down to the tip of Key West. It's a journey fueled by heavy themes: judgment, fundamentalism, and a father's desperate, often misguided, love for his son. While Silas House paints a vivid picture of the Bible Belt, and the salty air of Florida, the engine of the story frequently stalls under the weight of its own coincidences.

The story kicks off with a catastrophic flood--the kind of biblical-scale event that usually prompts a protagonist to rethink their life choices. Asher, a fundamentalist preacher, rescues a gay couple and decides to actually practice the "love thy neighbor" part of his Sunday sermons. Naturally, in his small town, this goes over about as well as a heavy metal concert at a silent retreat.

Ostracized by his congregation and his family, Asher grabs his nine-year-old son, Justin, and hits the road to find his long-lost brother. It's a quest for self-realization and a search for a more tolerant version of God.

I'll give credit where it's due: Silas House can write. There is some truly beautiful language here, and for fans of "God-talk," the nods to Thomas Merton are a sophisticated touch. 

I was also pleasantly surprised that House avoided the "lazy writer" trap of turning the townspeople into flat, mustache-twirling villains. The characters felt like real people--which makes their rejection of Asher sting all the more.

Despite the strong start, I found myself checking the "miles to go" on this journey more often than I liked.

Southernmost is a fast read with plenty to chew on, but it ultimately feels like it's trying to be a bit too hard to be a "modern classic." It has the "spirit" of a Wendell Berry novel, but lacks the grounded realism. If you enjoy atmospheric Southern fiction and can overlook a few "God Hate F*gs" road signs, it's worth a read--just don't expect a smooth ride.

Three out of five stars.