Beyond the Hype: Diving Into Demon Copperhead

Finally read Demon Copperhead after avoiding the hype for a year… and I’m still thinking about it.

Many things have already been told about Demon Copperhead. In fact, I am under the impression that a year ago every single person talked about it, read it, or wanted to read it. It was on the shelves of every bookshop I stepped into and recommended in every article I read while searching for book recommendations. Now, books as hyped as this one would usually put me off. On top of that, Barbara Kingsolver got a Pulitzer Prize for it. As much as I am aware of the importance of such acknowledgements, I am at the same time suspicious of the motives of the committee since, as we know, nothing is neutral.

Nonetheless, I felt this unexplainable desire to get to know the story of this kid with a strange name. I guess the fact that it’s a modern retelling of David Copperfield had something to do with it. Besides, I appreciate the focus on not-so-glamorous experiences of people and especially on something that deserves all the attention it gets and even more: the opioid crisis in the United States. Indeed, this topic has been addressed and problematized in literature, as well as in movies and series such as The Fall of the House of Usher, Dopesick, etc. But Barbara Kingsolver brings to us a story which not only tackles the opioid problem in America, but also exposes the indifference and cruelty of the contemporary capitalist world we live in. Moreover, she tells it through a child’s perspective. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel the urge to toss it out of the window, but I resisted. In the end, I wasn’t able to put down this brilliantly crafted story of struggle and resilience.

Born to an adolescent, addicted mom and living in a mobile home in rural West Virginia, Demon certainly couldn’t have an easy life. That much is clear from the first sentence: “First I got myself born.” It immediately pulls you into a coming-of-age story like no other you’ve ever read. Although born in poverty, Demon is a happy kid, at least for the first part of his life. Despite everything, his mother loves him, and so do the Peggots, neighbours who treat him the same as they do their own grandson Matt, aka Maggot, Demon’s best childhood friend. He is not carefree though. He worries about his mom, is often more mature than her, and for a long time is terrified of bathtubs, particularly one called Devil’s Bathtub. You see, Demon’s dad is out of the picture. He tragically died at that very place before Demon was born, and this was the event that sent his mom into a downward spiral.

Demon’s until-then challenging but not joyless childhood changes with the arrival of Stoner, his mom’s new boyfriend. Having been abandoned as a child herself and shoved from one abusive foster family to another, she is convinced that she can’t ensure any kind of stability for herself and her son unless there is a man in their lives. Talk about internalized patriarchal pressure. Believing that this is the only way to survive the cruel world, she closes her eyes to Stoner’s cruelty towards Demon.

“A kid is a terrible thing to be, in charge of nothing,” says Demon, and I honestly think the master of realism himself would agree. After the mother tragically disappears, Demon becomes a victim of neglect, abuse, and exploitation. He falls into the claws of understaffed, overworked, but overall indifferent child services that place him in foster homes without giving a single thought to the quality of the child’s life. From there on, we follow him on his journey through intimidation, extortion, child labour, humiliation, contempt, and self-contempt. To survive in one of the foster families, he is forced to work at the trash pile behind Mr. Ghali’s market (even if he is convinced he is working for a meth lab). He befriends Mr. Ghali, who tells him about his childhood as a Dalit in India and about working at the trash pile. Demon uses these stories to describe his own experience of ostracization and oppression in the United States, labelling himself as untouchable as well.

After he escapes the foster family and finds his grandmother, Demon not only finds himself in a good situation surrounded by people who care about him, but also gets his dream come true. He becomes a football superstar, just like one of his heroes, Fast Forward. However, the worst is yet to come. Following an injury on the field, he descends into a whirlwind of addiction, trauma, and bad decisions. His relationship with Dori, a girl who had everything but after her father’s death became a victim of perpetual rejection and neglect, is marked by trauma bonding rather than love. It represents, nonetheless, a turning point in his decline.

Despite all of his self-doubting, Demon is resilient and, above all, an intelligent kid. He always fights to survive and has hope when everything seems hopeless.

Reading Demon Copperhead turned out to be far more affecting than I expected. I picked it up with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, unsure whether it could live up to the noise surrounding it, and even more unsure about prize committees and their motives. But somewhere along Demon’s journey — through all the heartbreak, absurdity, small joys, and brutal injustices — the hype stopped mattering. What stayed with me was his voice-  one that lingers long after the last page — honest, wounded, sharp, and unbelievably resilient. It’s a story that doesn’t let you stay indifferent, and perhaps that is precisely its greatest strength.

Have you already Demon Copperhead? What are your thoughts?