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Review by Laurie Parker
The Listre, North Carolina, of 1950 could in many ways be the model for Andy Griffith's Mayberry. As in most small Southern towns of its time, Listre's residents are kindly, God-fearing Baptists, with a few good ol' boys and town scandals thrown in. Children can play safely in the woods and sandlots; a few folks still keep chickens in their yards; and the neighbors are sure to bring over a covered dish if you're ailing.
Wait a minute. I'm comparing two fictional hamlets as if one of them were real. Don't worry, though -- I'm not losing my mind. It's just that Clyde Edgerton's amazing way of describing all the little details that make up a sleepy Southern town brings Listre and its inhabitants to life. He's already pulled this trick with hilarious result in several of his novels, and he's at it again in his latest, "Where Trouble Sleeps."
Anyone who has ever spent any time in a small town that is little more than a few buildings around a crossroads will recognize some of Edgerton's folks. There's Preacher Crenshaw, who lectures his son on "misusing his sex" but who lusts in his heart for the young waitress at the Grill; the Blaine sisters, who close their store every time it rains; Train Redding, war hero and owner of Trouble, a bulldog that predicts the weather by where he sleeps; Mrs. Clark, the church secretary, who has conversations with Jesus in which he answers back; and Stephen Toomey, a not-quite-seven-year-old boy who watches events unfold around him without quite understanding everything that's going on. They are just part of the cast of characters who populate Listre, each as normal and as eccentric as can be.
Into this Rockwellian haven comes Jack Umstead -- a traveling man, a man like Twain's Mysterious Stranger, who sees the townspeople as easy pickings. This yellow-shirted shyster decides to settle in for a while, keep an eye on Trouble, and see what opportunities arise.
Umstead ingratiates himself with the beer drinkers at Train's Place (though he does raise a few suspicions when he says he comes from Traveler's Rest, a town just up the road, but doesn't refer to it as "T.R." as the real locals do). He slithers his way into the affections of lovely Cheryl down at the Grill, and goes so far as to attend services at Listre Baptist Church. He even helps strengthen Mrs. Clark's already formidable faith. But he's just biding his time, waiting until Trouble decides to spend the day snoozing inside.
It's the epic struggle of Good versus Evil, played out in a place where up until now the biggest excitement was over the mule-truck head-on collision that led to the installation of Listre's only blinking traffic light. And the townspeople of Listre are up for it. Jack, Cheryl, Stephen, the Blaines and the rest -- including those seen only briefly, as if through open windows during a stroll down the street on a pleasant evening -- are all too human, and Edgerton and we love them for it. It is sad to say goodbye to them at the book's end. The tale of how these good people deal with the "gypsy man" in his yellow shirt and pencil-thin mustache makes for one of Edgerton's finest, funniest and warmest novels yet.
©1997, ProMotion, inc.
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