This story in which 91 rock miners die in a silver mine fire in the tightly-knit town of Silverton, Idaho is inspired by a 1970’s real catastrophe.

The disaster affects everyone in this small blue collar community but focuses on three characters, David, Ann and Lyle. They are rich characters who come to life. I got caught up in the dynamics, sympathized with their struggles. I felt the devastating loss of loved ones, friends and neighbors and the rhythm of a community. Canty writes of the human condition in a stunning, sparse and realistic way and I was engrossed from cover to cover.

*to be posted on additoinal book sites shortly...

As a lifelong resident of the Rocky Mountains, I have some familiarity with hard rock miners and their communities. The immediacy with which Kevin Canty brings that world to life in “The Underworld” is remarkable. Based on an actual fatal underground mine fire in Silverton, Idaho in the 1970’s, Canty recreates in a fictionalized manner how all the residents of this hard drinking and hard living community are impacted in some way. By focusing on three specific characters and the effects of the devastating fire and loss on them, Canty gives the reader an intimate look into their suffering. He also touches on the effects of the tragedy on other members of the community and the community itself. All of these characters are brilliantly brought to life and their pain is palpable. Although this a story of grief and loss, there are also powerful moments of redemption, transformation, love, and hope in this impressive and memorable novel.

My review was posted on Goodreads on 3/19/17.

Why is it so hard to escape the town of our birth? What keeps us from growing into a new life? Are we trapped in brutal, short lives?

In 1972, Silverton, Idaho is in the middle of nowhere, it's only reason for being the silver mine that needs workers. Men are paid well, trading long lives and their health for good money. They work hard, then play hard, frequenting the bar to drink and brawl. They are proud of their toughness.

Silverton is infused with toxins that ruin skin and health.

"There was arsenic in the smoke, chromium, cadmium, lead. Part of what it cost to live here...people died here after a while, lung cancer, liver cancer, for a few months the other year everybody seemed to have leukemia."

The women think about leaving their men, and do leave men who can't leave the only life they know. And when someone does break out, like David who is in college, they feel alienated and conflicted, resenting the pampered life of green shady lawns and uncalloused soft hands.

"This was never going to be his life, anyways, these leafy maples that meet overhead, a canopy over the street. Shingled houses with white trim, green lawns, third stories, turrets and arches. In a way, it feels good to let go, stop pretending. This place has its membership and he isn't part of it."

The third year of college is ending when David hears there has been a disaster at the mine. He drives his VW home. His father and his brother work in the mines.

The disaster claims 91 lives. David's brother is one of the dead. The stunned town struggles. Widows drown their sorrows in booze but find there is no haven from regret and grief. Two men are trapped for 14 days, and coming above ground reevaluate their lives. David reconsiders his choice to leave for another life.

This is a story about grief.

"Everything in life can be taken from you in an instant. Any minute. She had known this before. But now she understands it."

"Her friend is dead. But she could only forget it or else think about nothing else, and there is nothing to think, nothing to say. It cannot be undone. It cannot be fixed. It cannot be tolerated...Something breaks inside her, a little thing like a Popsicle stick."

One widow, Ann, who at twenty-two was already weary of her life and childlessness before the accident, now regrets not cherishing her husband more. Ann realizes she had closed the door on so many possibilities when she decided to stay in Silverton and marry. Now she is 'free' to choose again, but the choices seem limited.

Ann goes to a bar seeking a bartender who once seemed interested in her; now he doesn't recognize her and she thinks, "all this just seems so corrupt. A stimulus, a response, a line, a body. People just want to fuck...They see a woman, alone, vulnerable, they move in for the kill. That's how it is. A lonely woman is the devil's playground."

Ann had sung as a schoolgirl and now joins the church choir. She experiences the sense of greater community found in choral singing.

"The third time through the 'Ave Maria' she feels it, that lovely moment in which everything else drops away and she becomes this column of air, supported by the hips, her jaw dropping into the high notes, this physical thing becomes musical, becomes music, and all around her the same thing is happening and they are singing together, almost beautifully."

Ann becomes friends with David's brother's widow Jordan, whose grief plays out in angry and self-destructive behavior. David is drawn to Ann.

Some don't survive the death of their loved one, some try to leave. Ann and David turn to each other in their grief and in their need reach, again, for love. They have been to hell and back. Perhaps they will yet find some comfort in the world.

The Underworld is fiction based on an actual mine disaster. I loved the writing and Canty's moving characters. I look forward to reading more of Canty's work.

I received a free book from the publisher in exchange for a fair and unbiased review.

THE UNDERWORLD (2017)
By Kevin Canty
W. W. Norton, 256 pages
★★★★

One of the autopsy findings from the election of 2016 is that Democrats largely ignored the white working class. That's rather amazing when we have so many fine novelists in America who write of that life. Even a cursory reading of Richard Russo might have reminded party leaders there was a part of America they needed to investigate more thoroughly. So too would readings of recent titles such as Mark Slouka's Brewster or Phillip Meyer's American Rust. So now that your attention has been refocused, check out Kevin Canty's The Underworld, a novel whose tone is reminiscent of Slouka and Meyer.

The title, in my view, isn't wisely chosen. First, Don DeLillo used the same title—sans the article—in his sprawling 2003 novel. Second, most people associate the term with organized crime. Canty, however, means it literally: the underworld as the realm of miners working more than a half-mile beneath the surface. His is a fictional reimaging of the 1972 Sunshine Mine fire in Idaho in which 91 miners lost their lives. His setting of Silverton, Idaho is a thinly veiled pastiche of Kellogg and Wallace, located in the heart of the silver mining Coeur d'Alene region. Ninety-one people also perish in Canty's novel. So why write a novel at all? Wouldn't a collection of news clippings accomplish the same task?

Nope! That's because, in many ways, the major character of the book is Silverton, located in the thin thumb of Idaho that pokes up between Montana and Washington. It's a place that's hard to love, yet locals talk more about getting out of town than actually doing so. And when they do leave, they seldom venture much further than Missoula to the east or Spokane to the west. I instantly related to Canty's book, though I'm an Easterner—my own postindustrial Pennsylvania hometown has the same ensnaring qualities. I did not fall prey to them and left in the 1970s, the same period under Canty's microscope. To leave or to stay is the dilemma facing David, the book's central character.

Canty also uses Underworld metaphorically–those mental, often non-verbalized, excavations of people trapped by circumstance, depression, and indecision. David's one of the latter. He's a student at the University of Montana Missoula, which is just 120 miles from Silverton as the crow flies—though its network of culture, restaurants, upscale bars, intellectual life, and veneer of bourgeois respectability are light years away. He also knows–and his landlord reminds him–that Silverton can't objectively compare. It's a town of dangers: toxic air, seedy bars where a misinterpreted glance can mean being smashed with a cue stick, rampant alcoholism, and unhealthy diets. Silverton is a town of weathered whores that have no trouble staying busy; it has dozens of bars, but just two TV channels that most view in glorious black and white. Above all it's a place where death in the mines can come without warning and wears a man down fast even if he isn't killed outright. David knows of mining: his father and his beloved brother Ray are miners.

Why on earth wouldn't David flee and not look back? If you have to ask that question, you need to learn more about blue-collar life. David goes to Missoula, but he is not of that world. His is the classic college first generation dilemma. Put simply, David feels like an outsider—a poseur, not a scholar. He's right; the university crowd doesn't have a clue about what he thinks, what his life has been like, or how he feels. As bad as it is, Silverton is where people understand him–though they don't exactly. Man! I know that feeling! You become the walking definition of liminality—trapped between the working and middle classes and uncertain whether to step backward or more forward. So when someone tells you there's a job opening up that pays over $10 an hour (about $57 in today's coin), do you pursue a life of materialism and danger, or stay on the middle class track? Ray has stayed; maybe David should too: get a new truck, keep up with a longtime affair with his former piano teacher he thinks is a big secret, but isn't, and eventually get married a have a few kids like Ray and his wife Jordan.

Then the mine blows up when David is at school. Ray was in there. Did he make it out? What about Malloy, another guy from town? He and Ray are a lot alike–tough, funny, hard drinking, bombastic, and easier to love in the abstract than in person. What about Terry and Lyle and all the others? What about the women who will be widowed if their husbands come out under a sheet? Jordan? Ann Malloy? Let's just say that, in 1972, feminism hadn't yet had a big impact in this part of the world.

The sections of Canty's book chronicling the fate of two men trapped in an air seam 3,500 feet underground are gripping and harrowing. It would behoove all middle class readers to contemplate what manual labor means. Do not think of this event as a museum piece either. Think upon West Virginia's Upper Big Branch disaster that killed 29 miners in 2010, the Deepwater Horizon explosion that killed 11 that same year, or the 14 who died at a Waco, Texas fertilizer plant in 2013.

Yeah—maybe it's time to think about this kind of stuff. Canty–the author of five previous novels and an English professor at the University of Montana–has written a novel filled with action, pathos, despair, and glimmers of hope. His writing is direct, vivid, and so crisply paced that The Underworld feels like a short book. Is it ultimately a work of literature, or sociological commentary? Yes.

Rob Weir

Note: This book releases on March 7.