Debut author Flores’ literary novel follows bizarre family troubles in a small Southern California town.

Welcome to Clarktown, California. Clarktown is located in Allen County, a place that “was created in the nineteenth century by the shear will, sweat and blood of the farmers, ranchers, and working families.” It is the 1960s, and the war in Vietnam is getting increasingly unpopular stateside. Veterans are returning from their time in combat in bad shape. Some are addicted to heroin, while others, like Matt Bradley, carry physical and emotional scars. Although Matt has managed to put his military training to use in civilian life advising police officers, his past still haunts him. Samuel Mendoza’s older brother Curtis “Curt” Mendoza served as a Green Beret. Once Curt is discharged from the Army, he winds up in all sorts of trouble, such as fighting and drug smuggling. Things go from bad to worse for Curt when he is accused of murder. It doesn’t help that local law enforcement is not exactly on the up and up. Sheriff Robert “Big Bob” Johnson seems keen on getting away with whatever might earn him a quick buck. His hobbies include quoting John Wayne movies and dealing in illicit human body parts. Big Bob believes Curt has information that could be useful, so he is hellbent on making Curt’s time behind bars as uncomfortable as possible. Lucky for Curt, his brother Hank is an Ivy League grad and lawyer who comes home from Boston to help with his case. Curt also has on his side local hippie attorney Robert “Bob” Stein. Bob and Hank may be sharp, but they have their work cut out for them.

Along with Curt’s legal situation, the narrative weaves in plenty of vivid period details of the 1960s. Baseball is well represented (snippets of Sandy Koufax’s career are mentioned throughout), as is the teen music scene: As one kid puts it, “I’m already tired of The Beatles…the Stones; that’s where it’s at, man.” Such aspects ground the story in a specific time and place, and the prose progresses in a breezy, conversational tone. The narrator explains complicated situations in a plain, matter-of-fact style: a good example is his description of his brother’s odd behavior upon his return from Vietnam (Curt seemed to be “nowhere and everywhere.”) The author also gives extensive background info on both major and minor characters. The reader learns everything from what car Stein drives to the special dish created in his honor at his landlord’s Mexican restaurant with kosher carne asida. The attorney describes “Combination Plate No. 7, The Stein Plate” as having “some heavy Old Testament vibe, and damn fucking good.” Such attention to detail enhances the main characters, although in the case of more peripheral characters, the detailed descriptions seem gratuitous. The question of whether Curt killed a man or not isn’t quite as suspenseful as one might expect. Despite such distractions, as the narrative centers on Curt’s trial it raises interesting questions about everything from pleas of insanity to the vagaries of small-town justice.

An unfocused tale of Vietnam War–era family dysfunction that’s rich in historical realism.