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FIREWORKS EVERY NIGHT by Beth Raymer Kirkus Star

FIREWORKS EVERY NIGHT

by Beth Raymer

Pub Date: June 27th, 2023
ISBN: 9780812993165
Publisher: Random House

A family of South Florida transplants has a shining moment of promise, then the hard times start rolling in.

As the book opens, C.C. Borkoski is at an engagement party being thrown by her wealthy future in-laws, the Wellmans, whose Connecticut home commands a view of Long Island Sound. She is surprised to learn that her mother has been invited—because the guest list was so “lopsided,” her fiance explains. “Your side was basically blank.” “There's a reason for that!” says C.C., shocked to learn her mother even has email, much less that she has RSVP’d that she will be attending. The remainder of this novel will explain what happened to C.C.’s family, people who live in a very different America than the Wellmans. From the engagement party, we flash back to C.C. at 12, at a Florida rest stop eating sliced orange samples. Since her family's used car lot and home in Ohio burned to the ground, they are on their way to a new life. And as it turns out, “Loxahatchee was the best life my childhood self could conceive of.” For a while. But while C.C. gets her first boyfriend and becomes a regional basketball phenom, her big sister, Lorraine, turns into someone she can’t even recognize, and let’s not even start on what happens to her parents or to C.C.’s marriage into the upper crust. The same evocative language and crackerjack storytelling Raymer displayed in her debut memoir, Lay the Favorite (2010), make her debut fiction a richly entertaining read even as the betrayals and misfortunes come raining down. The mythic level of the difficulties that confront the humans in the book are highlighted by C.C.’s job as a marketing writer at a Florida zoo full of animals in desperate straits due to changes in the environment—a homeless shelter, as she thinks of it. As Raymer’s readers, we are like the manatees in the last image of the novel, having a fine old time playing in the warm-water discharge of a power plant at sunset.

This unsparing version of the modern American tragedy is more fun to read than can possibly be right.