By Barbara Kingsolver
We all know that some books entertain, others educate, and many inform...but the ones I love the most are those that transport you to another place, another era, another culture. Few stories linger long after the final page, but Demon Copperhead did just that for me.
I consider myself fortunate. Born in the early 1970s to a
middle-class family that valued education, going to church on Sundays, a father
who worked full-time, and a family who…quirks and all…looked after
one another. I didn’t always get what I
wanted but I always had enough. Most importantly, we never questioned that we
were loved.
This book is the exact opposite of my childhood. It is bold and emotionally charged, this novel reimagines Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield in the heart of Appalachia. Told through the voice of Damon Fields, known as “Demon,” it follows his harrowing, heartfelt journey from a chaotic childhood into a turbulent coming-of-age shaped by poverty, addiction, and systemic neglect in rural Virginia.
Demon calls his childhood a “four-star shitshow”—a brutal
mix of poverty, drugs, abuse, death, and despair. While reading it... I felt that
despair. What fascinated me, though, was his relentless will to survive. Demon
is heartbreakingly resilient. He’s sharp, funny even in the darkest moments,
and his observations cut right to the bone.
If addiction is a triggering topic, this may not be the book
for you. It lays out the opioid crisis and the abandonment of rural
communities, while anchoring its power in deeply personal struggles—grief,
foster care, the battle for self-worth. It’s unflinchingly harsh at times but dotted
with startling beauty and grace. Like watching someone take blow after blow,
only to be thrown a lifeline just before going under.
“I got up every day thinking the sun was out there shining,
and it could just as well shine on me as any other human person.”
That line lands like a quiet triumph. It’s not just hope…it’s
a declaration that light and belonging aren’t reserved for the chosen. It
speaks to a gentle kind of resilience: the kind that whispers, I matter,
even when the world fails to say it back. There’s something profoundly human in
waking up and deciding the light might shine your way today. Never give up. It always seems that right when you are about
to…the magic happens.
In the end…he reconnects with people who care about him and starts to find meaning in art and storytelling. The novel closes not with a neat resolution and Demon isn’t “fixed,” but he’s moving forward, learning to believe that he deserves light, love, and a life beyond survival.
It’s not a fairy-tale ending, but it’s deeply human.
All I can say is…Demon Copperhead
lived one hell of a life.
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