Genevieve Hudson’s debut novel, Boys of Alabama, beautifully weaves together an authentic picture of the American South with a coming-of-age of story involving two characters who absolutely capture the reader’s heart.
Max has just moved to Alabama and like any high schooler he wants to fit in, particularly after feeling like an outsider back in his homeland of Germany. In an attempt to do so, he leans into the somewhat stereotypical (but not off-base) local Southern culture of football, fried food, and God … that is, until he meets Pan. Labelled the “local witch,” Pan captivates Max with his Walmart dresses and fishnet stockings, his fierce sense of self and I-don’t-give-a-shit-what-anyone-thinks attitude. As Max grows closer to Pan he shares the special power he possesses, which no one else knows about. This vulnerability comes with a price, however, as Max struggles to balance his growing love for Pan with the pressure to be the church-going athlete everyone else expects him to be.
Raised in Alabama, Hudson perceptively captures the experience of living in the American South. Their ability to relay the painfully difficult reality of the teenage years, particularly in situations where one feels conflicted or like an outsider, is intuitive and heartfelt. Each character is so carefully crafted, so real, which works well to support the touches of magic sprinkled through the story via Max’s secret power. Hudson really digs into the issue of identity beautifully as Pan, both directly and indirectly, pushes Max to consider who he is, what he wants from life, and who he wants to be. He encourages the kind of self-reflection and examination — for both Max and the reader — that is so desperately needed as a teenager, but which we rarely are brave enough to commit to until much later in life.
Hudson’s story is more than just a coming-of-age tale, though. They tackle a range of weighty themes from questions of self-proclaimed and religious power to the various notions of right and wrong, from learning who to trust to becoming aware of who to fear. Max hides so much of himself and perhaps Hudson uses his magical powers as a more tangible manifestation of the things we all hide from the world, even from our own selves. Those things we want to ignore but cannot, which we are forced to face and learn to come to terms with at some point. Max’s fear of his own power mirrors his fear of himself, who he really is deep down inside. Hudson also takes a unique approach to exploring the ways we go about trying to fit in, to be accepted, to be loved, by focusing on the influence of religion and the church. They consider how we are, in many ways, products of our environment, shaped by the culture in which we are raised and the things we are taught by those closest to us.
Boys of Alabama had me from page one, connecting quickly with the characters, feeling their youthful hopefulness and accompanying pain. Hudson’s writing is sharp and clever. Their sentence structure is driving and to the point, their brief chapters propulsive. In short, one wouldn’t know that Boys of Alabama is in fact Hudson’s first novel.
Seriously, I couldn’t put this one down and I’m still thinking about Max and Pan! I hope this book will join your collection of favorite 2020 reads, as it did mine.
Boys of Alabama is available from Amazon, Book Depository, and other good book retailers, like your local bookstore! Many thanks to Liveright Publishing for providing the advance copy. All thoughts and opinions expressed here are entirely my own.
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Synopsis | Goodreads
In this bewitching debut novel, a sensitive teen, newly arrived in Alabama, falls in love, questions his faith, and navigates a strange power. While his German parents don’t know what to make of a South pining for the past, shy Max thrives in the thick heat. Taken in by the football team, he learns how to catch a spiraling ball, how to point a gun, and how to hide his innermost secrets.
Max already expects some of the raucous behavior of his new, American friends—like their insatiable hunger for the fried and cheesy, and their locker room talk about girls. But he doesn’t expect the comradery—or how quickly he would be welcomed into their world of basement beer drinking. In his new canvas pants and thickening muscles, Max feels like he’s “playing dress-up.” That is until he meets Pan, the school “witch,” in Physics class: “Pan in his all black. Pan with his goth choker and the gel that made his hair go straight up.” Suddenly, Max feels seen, and the pair embarks on a consuming relationship: Max tells Pan about his supernatural powers, and Pan tells Max about the snake poison initiations of the local church. The boys, however, aren’t sure whose past is darker, and what is more frightening—their true selves, or staying true in Alabama.
Writing in verdant and visceral prose that builds to a shocking conclusion, Genevieve Hudson “brilliantly reinvents the Southern Gothic, mapping queer love in a land where God, guns, and football are king” (Leni Zumas, author of Red Clocks). Boys of Alabama becomes a nuanced portrait of masculinity, religion, immigration, and the adolescent pressures that require total conformity.
