Watermelon Row

M. Holmes

Who would use a misquoted stripper’s name from a Tom Waits’ song as the title for a new novel? Michael Holmes, that’s who. Why? Well, because it’s perfect. Watermelon Rose is the lyric misheard as Watermelon Row, explained by a main character to mean the front (perv row, right by the stage) at a nudie bar. Since this row is occupied by all three major characters, he names the perfect phrase to embody the lascivious ‘fuckedupedness’ of 24 hours in the lives of 3 self destructive men, an intense and thrilling whodunit. Holmes provides enrapturing portraits, gripping plot developments, graceful insights, and is, like Waits “a fuckin’ genius. a god-damned poet.”
Chances are you will hate all three of the main characters. But, the clarity of who and why they are, of their experience is so sharply and fully written that they and ‘the stench of their truth’ becomes irresistible. It is this ‘beautifully incongruous’ descriptive insight that redeems such ugly subjects; that makes reading Watermelon Row thrilling and enjoyable.
To make matters more discomforting, prepare to chuckle. Through relentless, brutal detail and forceful, flawless timing, you get kind of Quentin Tarantino meets John Irving doses of graphic and momentous hilarity. When I read about a morning coffee time for Scarface? A disgusting episode where he farts, possibly shits himself, unexpectedly pukes (in the ladies), falls around in it (and worse), then wonders if he’s just wiped his lips with his filthy hands? I found myself cringing and grinning. When he proceeds to wash up and get soap in his mouth and eyes, just before he notices a sickening swinging left over chunk of vomit in his hair? I was sickened but also found myself laughing, out loud, like a lunatic on the subway.
Have I mentioned the book’s raunchy cover? A conservative soul could be embarrassed to be found holding it upright, to be seen in public, carrying or looking at it. This is an especially important warning, because this book is a page turner. Not normally a fan of the genre, thriller, horror, whatever, I found myself carrying this book around and reading it everywhere: in line at the bank, in stolen moments at family functions and between business meetings. Repeatedly, having just arrived somewhere, I found myself holding the book up to someone, enthusiastically pointing at it, grinning and saying “this is a GREAT book.” Only to have them take in the cover, and look at me with a little new found shock or dismay. It’s ugly, it is. but it is also a great read.