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In the war of the body versus the mind, there can be no winner. The two are
inextricably linked; to defeat either defeats both. Nevertheless, the characters in Duff
Brenna's latest novel, THE ALTAR OF THE BODY, all seem to be ignoring one side to champion
the other.
Buck Root, an ex-poet long since freed of the burden of talent, has given up his dreams of
wordsmithing to become a sculptor of flesh --- a bodybuilding evangelist hawking health
and eternal youth in the form of pills called Nova Life. He's transformed himself from
bullied geek into Mr. Los Angeles, Mr. Philadelphia, Mr. Chicago, Mr. Mount Olympus, and
most recently, Mr. Minneapolis Thighs. He enters the novel like an ox, sweating, grunting
and pushing a broken-down Lincoln up the street to the home of his cousin, George --- who
is unprepared, to say the least.
If Buck Root's body is an altar, George's is a temple in ruins. Balding, graying and
nursing a potbelly, George is a sweet-natured mama's boy who likes the gentle routine of
his life in Medicine Lake, Minnesota, watching TV, drinking beer, occasionally spending a
few rushed minutes with a local stripper in the back of her van. He's content, mostly ---
until Buck shoves that Lincoln and its volatile contents into his life.
Inside the car are Joy, Buck's impossibly sexy girlfriend; her ancient mother, Livia,
who's living in the paperback western she's reading; and their dog, Ho Tep. George, in a
way, falls in love with each of them and begins to realize what he's lost by letting
himself go numb for so long.
The author's most stunning accomplishment with ALTAR is in sketching a cast of
larger-than-life characters who do and say preposterous things and then, gradually, by
revealing layer after layer of their souls, making them real and complex and utterly
moving. "Everybody I know is multilayered," says George toward the end of the
novel, and it's true: The cartoonish characters introduced 300 pages earlier have gained
an astonishing depth.
Brenna's novel addresses the frailty of flesh, our inevitable doom, the power and
shortcomings of love and art, and the bonds of family. It's a fun read from start to
finish, delightfully over-the-top in all the right places, yet full of deeply touching
moments. The characters are ravaged and torn by the choices they make; those who survive
intact are the ones who learn they can't choose only a part of themselves but must embrace
the whole. It's a worthy lesson in a beautiful package.
--- Reviewed by Becky Ohlsen
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