Fire Exit: A Novel by Morgan Talty
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Fire Exit: A Novel

by

Morgan Talty

(Author)

3.9

-

239 ratings


“Remarkable.”—NPR

“Spellbinding”—TIME, A Best Book of Summer

A Best Book of June at The New York Times and Chicago Review of Books

“Utterly consuming. . . . Fire Exit absolutely smolders.”—Tommy Orange

From the award-winning author of Night of the Living Rez, Morgan Talty’s debut novel, Fire Exit, is a masterful and unforgettable story of family, legacy, bloodlines, culture and inheritance, and what, if anything, we owe one another.

From the porch of his home, Charles Lamosway has watched the life he might have had unfold across the river on Maine’s Penobscot Reservation. He caught brief moments of his neighbor Elizabeth’s life—from the day she came home from the hospital to her early twenties. But there’s something deeper and more dangerous than the river that divides him from her and the rest of the tribal community. It’s the secret that Elizabeth is his daughter, a secret Charles is no longer willing to keep.

Now, it’s been weeks since he’s seen Elizabeth, and Charles is worried. As he attempts to hold on to and care for what he can—his home and property; his alcoholic and bighearted friend Bobby; and his mother, Louise, who is slipping deeper into dementia—he becomes increasingly haunted by his past. Forced to confront a lost childhood on the reservation, a love affair cut short, and the death of his beloved stepfather, Fredrick, Charles contends with questions he’s long been afraid to ask. Is his secret about Elizabeth his to share? And would his daughter want to know the truth, even if it could cost her everything she’s ever known?

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ISBN-10

1959030558

ISBN-13

978-1959030553

Print length

256 pages

Language

English

Publisher

Tin House Books

Publication date

June 03, 2024

Dimensions

5.8 x 1 x 8.8 inches

Item weight

14.1 ounces


Product details

ASIN :

B0CJVPRKR1

File size :

5377 KB

Text-to-speech :

Enabled

Screen reader :

Supported

Enhanced typesetting :

Enabled

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Word wise :

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Editorial Reviews

"Beautifully written, sometimes funny, often heartbreaking and hopeful against all odds. Reminiscent of the work of Raymond Carver." ― Book Page

"Remarkable. . . . An outstanding new voice with a lot to say."― NPR

"Utterly consuming. With Talty’s subtle charm and crystalline prose. . . . Fire Exit absolutely smolders."― Tommy Orange

"An undeniable classic."― Chicago Review of Books, A Best Book of June

"Original. . . . Irresistible. . . . Fire Exit is one of those books that will become more meaningful with the days, weeks, and months after closing the cover." ― Independent Book Review

"Cements his status as a writer to watch." ― Harper's Bazaar

"Moving." ― Publishers Weekly

"Talty’s writing is a gift of many lifetimes." ― Karen Russell

"Absolutely soars. . . . you will come out of this book better than you were going in." ― Barnes & Noble, A Most Anticipated Debut of 2024

"Gripping. . . . A thoughtful, heartfelt exploration of what it means to be part of a family and a community."― Associated Press

"Utterly absorbing. . . . compassionately addresses tough choices in matters of family and love." ― Shelf Awareness

"Gorgeous. . . . I loved it." ― Brandon Taylor

"Spellbinding. . . . a compassionate portrait of a man who is desperate to understand who he is and where he came from." ― TIME, a Best Book of Summer

"In this deliberately paced, moody novel, Talty, himself a citizen of the Penobscot Nation, considers questions of identity." ― Kirkus Reviews

"Affecting. . . . evocative. . . . In the thought-provoking novel Fire Exit, family and identity are so much more than what is in the blood or on a piece of paper." ― Foreward Reviews

"Does not shy away from blistering questions of belonging and identity, but rather leans into them, in taut, often precise prose." ― The New York Times Book Review, A Best Book of June

"Lacerating." ― Chicago Tribune, A Best Book of Summer

"Immersive, thought-provoking. . . . Talty doesn’t miss a step in switching from short stories to a novel, and there’s no sophomore slump in this second book; indeed, Fire Exit cements his reputation as one of our best young writers." ― The Portland Press Herald

"Tender and heartbreaking. . . . sweetened with touches of humor, the novel raises important questions about human connection and belonging." ― Booklist, Starred Review

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Sample

1

I wanted the girl to know the truth. I wanted her to know who I was—who I really was—instead of a white man who had lived across from her all her life and watched her grow up from this side of the river.

It was late spring. I sat outside drinking coffee and not smoking because my lighter had run out of gas. Fog rolled off the water that divided the Penobscot Nation from the rest of the state of Maine. I was waiting, as I usually did. Soon, across the river and on the reservation, my girl—a woman by that point—came out of the house and got in her car to go to work. I didn’t know how many times I’d been through this same routine, but that morning, something took hold of me. Something was different this time.

She started her car and backed out of the driveway, and then, as usual, she was out of sight. I got up and drank the rest of my coffee and thought about calling Louise, my mother, but decided she was probably sleeping, so I went inside to make breakfast, not because I was hungry but because I needed something to do so I could think about what had come over me. Maybe the change had come about because I’d stopped working in the woods so much and had more time to think, but the fact was that I’d gone along for too long with Mary’s plan to lie and say that the girl was another man’s, an enrolled Native man’s, so that she, our daughter, could be on the census—Mary’s Penobscot blood plus Roger’s—giving Elizabeth exactly what she needed to be enrolled. But that morning I wanted our daughter to know the truth. I was tired of holding that secret.

I was going to make eggs and some seasoned hash and think about all this, but when I cut up the washed potato, I nicked the tip of my thumb real good with the knife and got blood all over my hand and said forget it. I went to the couch and sat down, and I wrapped a paper towel around my thumb and watched the blood seep through and then there was no denying what I wanted. I did want the truth to be known. The blood that came out of me was blood that ran through her veins. It’s strange: all blood looks the same, yet it’s different, we’re told, in so many various ways and for so many various reasons. But one thing is for certain, I thought: you are who you are, even if you don’t know it.

• • •

I didn’t know much about her, except what her mother used to tell me—which was years ago now, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four—when she’d come to check up on me, to give me a little news about her and to see if I was drinking. I was, but told her I wasn’t, that it had been four days, eight days, twelve days. But I’ll get to that, the lying—mine and hers.

• • •

Her name is Elizabeth Eunice Francis, and her maternal grandparents were Eunice and Philip. She was born in January 1991. I’m afraid to say I don’t know the exact date, but I think it was the fifteenth, sixteenth, or seventeenth. Those were the days her house was empty and I waited anxiously across the river for her to be brought home.

• • •

She knew my house. She’d seen it, both from over there at Roger and Mary’s—her parents—and once, when she was young, on my road with her mother. But she’d never been inside, and there was no reason to believe her mother had told her what it looked like. My father, Fredrick, and I built the house in 1983 (thirty-five years goes by fast, faster than the Penobscot River in spring with all that water and ice). I don’t know if I can call it a house—it’s only five hundred square feet—but this place, while small on the outside, feels big on the inside: there’s the living room and kitchen, which are connected and form one room, and then there’s a small hallway, just wide enough an entry to turn around in and go into the bathroom or bedroom. The doors to those rooms open inward, but if you open the door to the hallway closet too wide it will catch the lightbulb hanging above that space. Over the years it filled with boxes whose contents I’d forgotten and the gun—a pump .22 Fredrick gave me when I was a boy.

Fredrick and I built the small house three years after the Maine Indian Claims Settlement Act was passed. Fredrick was strongly against the act and spent a great deal of time with the tribal council trying to persuade them to go after a better deal as well as a great amount of time laying out his frustrations for my mother and me during dinner. The act, when passed by Congress, had restored to the tribe its inherent sovereignty, so they could make and pass laws. While the white folks who had owned land prior to the act could remain, as well as those who had married in, one of the first laws the tribe passed concerned non-Natives: anyone who wasn’t Native at all had no right to live on the reservation. And since Fredrick was my stepfather, I wasn’t Native, and so I couldn’t remain on the reservation when I came of age. My mother, a non-Native, could stay, of course, since she had married in.

Around that time Fredrick’s father, Joseph, was dying, and the bills were adding up—and what little money I was making working in the woods wouldn’t be enough for me to buy a place of my own off the reservation. When the time came to pay for his father’s funeral—Joseph died, not peacefully, in the summer of 1982—Fredrick sold his father’s camp and land, which got a lot of money. The place was densely forested and far from any town, and bear trappers stay out there now and take people out to hunt. Fredrick still owned his land, which was not very far from his father’s, and after settling the medical bills he used the rest of the money to pay for my land and the building supplies. Since the settlement gave the tribe some land outside the reservation or the option to buy some at a low cost, Fredrick was able to buy from the tribe a lot cheaper than the state would have sold it. It was purely coincidental that the land we bought was across the river from Roger’s house. I had no idea how important that place would be to me, or the role it would play in my being able to see her.

Fredrick and I spent all summer building the house. And it was a hot summer. My boss at the woodyard let me borrow the buncher—and so we were able to clear the land very quickly, just enough for a road and a yard. We laid the cement and put up all the walls with a good-quality chipboard, and we stuffed the walls with insulation, which we stapled, and we laid all the floors with a cheap linoleum, except in the bedroom, which is carpeted.

It took over four months to build the place. We measured and cut and swore and sweated and got dust and flakes of wood in our eyes, and we built each day after work and even more so on the weekends until it was finished. Louise, my mother, kept us fed during that time, when she was well enough, which was not most of the time. She suffered terrible bouts of depression, which she always would. It was three and a half decades since we’d built the house and I had yet to put trim up or even hang a picture. Who did I have to frame? I’d stopped saying I’d get to it.

As soon as it was built, Fredrick signed the land over to me, and for a number of years until he died, I gave him as much money as I could spare to help pay for what he’d put into this place, what he had given me. I insisted each and every time, but he always tried not to take the money, always said this is what fathers are supposed to do.

• • •

We met once when she was three. For a few years after she was born, her mother used to visit me. It was always the same routine: park way down the dirt road and walk through the woods to the back of my house and crawl in through the window. She used to give me news about our child, the only one Mary would ever have, but sometimes she just showed up and gave me nothing but her company for an hour or so. Once she was inside, she would visit like a neighbor would, and we’d have coffee at my kitchen table. We’d smoke a few cigarettes and she’d ask after my mother and after my work and after my drinking and would tell me I should do something to the place, like get some decorations. “At least get a painting or something,” she’d say.

It was during a late spring Saturday when Mary asked, “Do you think it would be a good idea if you met her?” She drank her coffee and smoked, lounging, taking her time because Roger was not home; he had taken Elizabeth ice fishing. I don’t know who it was Mary felt bad for: Elizabeth or me. Maybe both of us?

“Of course I want to meet her,” I said.

“But is it a good idea?” She held her hands together on the table.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Neither do I. Get me a coin. A quarter, dime, whatever.”

I got her a penny.

“Heads you meet her, tails we forget I asked.”

The coin landed on tails.

“Two out of three?” I said.

The next one landed on heads. And so too did the next one.

And that was it. Mary left through the window and every so often a branch would snap and echo in the woods. A car door slammed shut and the engine revved and faded until everything but my breathing quieted.

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About the authors

Morgan Talty

Morgan Talty

Morgan Talty is a citizen of the Penobscot Indian Nation where he grew up. His story collection Night of the Living Rez is forthcoming from Tin House Books (July 5th, 2022), and his work has appeared in Granta, The Georgia Review, Shenandoah, TriQuarterly, Narrative Magazine, LitHub, and elsewhere. A winner of the 2021 Narrative Prize, Talty’s work has been supported by the Elizabeth George Foundation and National Endowment for the Arts (2022). Talty teaches courses in both English and Native American Studies, and he is on the faculty at the Stonecoast MFA in creative writing as well as the Institute of American Indian Arts. Talty is also a Prose Editor at The Massachusetts Review. He lives in Levant, Maine.

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Reviews

Customer reviews

3.9 out of 5

239 global ratings

JFL

JFL

5

A sad and beautiful novel

Reviewed in the United States on June 14, 2024

Fire Exit is a punch in the heart, the kind of novel that really does leave you heart-sore for a long time afterward.

The novel revolves around and is narrated through a man who is white and, in adulthood, was removed from his residency on an Indian reservation. His eviction and his whiteness separates him from his daughter, and from the life and culture he grew up with on the reservation. Fire Exit is the story of this man grappling with his identity as an outsider, and a story of those on the inside — Indians — who are themselves still in the process of sorting through the legacy of settler colonialism and the co-called Civilizing Mission against them. Fire Exit highlights the fluidity of identity, but also the rigid barriers which define it within ourselves and by others imposed on us. The novel exposes the messiness of relationships, especially in indigenous communities which have been so ravaged by racism and colonial ideologies.

I am reminded again how singular it is that indigenous people of North America are some of the few peoples on earth who must continually prove who they are. I recently read a piece in the New Yorker on Pretendians (typically white people who claim indigenous heritage or identity) and am struck by both the necessity of proof and how exhausting it must be as a human being. It saddens and inspires simultaneously.

The ever-present trauma of colonialism is a burden we cannot put down, any of us; and the pursuit of decolonization can never end. For that reason I am loving this wave of indigenous literature; though not “new,” it feels like indigenous writers and stories are getting more mainstream attention, reaching new audiences (like myself) who find solace and inspiration in them.

But, back to Fire Exit.

Though I cannot know what this is for indigenous people, I can say that as this is also a story about family, what it is to be a family, what is it to act out and perform family, I felt connected to a kind of universal understanding of “family” in my reading of it.

Talty is such a fantastic writer. The words just come together, like lyrics that feel familiar and yet woven together, produce a song I haven’t heard before. The mothers and fathers, daughters and sons in this novel are people we can connect with, and yet, as those living in reservations or on the edges of them, they have a unique life experience, one that I do not know (cannot know, really). I feel that Talty has made it possible for me to feel a little bit of their experience.

It is a sad novel, and a beautiful one.

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12 people found this helpful

Camila Russell

Camila Russell

5

This book has many layers.

Reviewed in the United States on July 2, 2024

I haven’t read Night of the Living Rez yet but I heard wonderful things about it, and people I believe have similar reading taste also recommended it to me. I was also very curious about Fire Exit and because it was released in June I preordered it and decided to pick it up immediately.

This is a complex book, it has a lot of different layers. It deals with complicated relationships, family dynamics, and finding one's place in life. It grapples with the idea of belonging and family bonds. In this novel we follow Charles Lamoswa who grew up in a reservation but he is not considered part of the tribe. He lives in the tribe because his mother married someone who was part of the Penobscot Reservation in Maine.

When he turns eighteen he needs to move out of the reservation because of his lack of blood ties. Although he feels like he is part of the reservation, he is not. He is an outsider. But Charles had a daughter with a Native American woman and she asked him to keep it secret, otherwise his daughter would have no right to claim tribal status.

He then buys a piece of land across the river, across the reservation, and watches his daughter grow up from there. The author examines the unfairness of this agreement between Charles and the mother of his biological daughter. On top of that, the protagonist also needs to take care of his mother with dementia.

This novel did not disappoint. Like I said before, it has many layers, it packs so much. There are no easy solutions here. This is life as complicated as it can get. Charles has a lot to deal with in this heartbreaking story. Fire Exit is an exploration of family, love, memory, blood ties, and blood quantum. It sure deserves not only five but all the stars.

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2 people found this helpful

Michael Burke

Michael Burke

5

Blood Credentials

Reviewed in the United States on June 5, 2024

With 2022’s brilliant collection, “Night of the Living Rez,” and now with his debut novel, “Fire Exit,” Morgan Talty has stepped up as one of our most exciting writers. Centering around life in Maine’s Penobscot Reservation, these books are not only insights into Native American issues, but they also explore universal themes of family, inclusion, and identity.

In “Fire Exit,” Charles Lamosway lives just outside the Penobscot Reservation– directly across the river from his daughter, Elizabeth, who is now in her early twenties and unaware that Charles is her father. Charles is not Penobscot, but Elizabeth’s mother, Mary, and the man she has married are. Because Charles does not have the tribe’s blood in him, Elizabeth would technically be excluded from tribal membership.

Charles grew up on the reservation because his mother married a member. Once Charles turned 18, he was forced to move off– a common practice. When Mary became pregnant, she convinced him to keep their secret, otherwise Elizabeth would be exposed below the 25 percent Blood Quantum level the Penobscots accept.

Blood Quantum is the measurement determining who can and who cannot claim tribal standing. It is a rating, a ranking originally imposed by the government to whittle down the numbers of the Native American population. Many tribes embraced the practice as a self-protective practice, often in the fear that any benefits would be diluted by swollen numbers. It has effectively split cultures and arbitrarily sent souls into exile.

This whole Blood Quantum equation has paralyzed Charles. For over twenty years he has quietly watched his daughter grow up. The longing to tell her and his inability to do so has eaten him alive. A virtual outsider at this point, he longs to share his bond with his daughter, even as the rest of his family dissolves. His stepfather tragically died in a hunting accident that his mother blames him for. She rarely recognizes him anymore, as she is stumbling deeper and deeper into dementia.

And then Charles discovers that something is wrong with Elizabeth. He decides he must tell her the truth. Her truth.

Identity is a huge issue here. Elizabeth has never been told who her real father is. Charles was driven from where his roots are, his childhood home. The most influential person in his life, his stepfather, is gone. His mother not only rejects him, but her mindset is also irreversible. Now, finally, Charles is taking things into his own hands.

I thoroughly enjoyed “Fire Exit” and look forward to what Morgan Talty will bring in the future. A wonderful storyteller, a refreshing voice.

I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.

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6 people found this helpful

beckster51

beckster51

4

Powerful novel

Reviewed in the United States on June 30, 2024

Fire Exit is a very powerful book and competently weaves the themes of friendship, intimacy, trust and acceptance. It is a poignant story of an outsider who is loving and kind who cannot seem to find his place in the world. I was quickly drawn into the story of a man that has spent the majority of his life searching for acceptance and love. While the story is set on a reservation and made the issue of identity more apparent, it is ultimately a story about the human condition. I highly recommend this book!

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TVNBH

TVNBH

4

Lots to think about

Reviewed in the United States on July 15, 2024

Fire Exit By Morgan Talty

This book is about the Native American Penobscots who live on a reservation in Maine. The author himself is a citizen of the Penobscot Nation. Thus he is very familiar with the culture of these people.

This book is also about family and secrets – and whether it is better to tell the truth, or more harmful. Charles Lamosway is the protagonist here. Because he was white – his mother and unknown biological father both being white – Charles was not allowed to live on the reservation, even though his mother, Louise, had lived there with his stepfather Fredrick.

So Fredrick and Charles had built a house for Charles just across the river from the reservation. Charles had spent a lot of time on the outside looking in. But as he grew older, a secret he had kept for a long time began to gnaw at him and he wanted to come clean. His struggle with whether to tell is the central story here.

But that wasn't the only secret. There was the secret of what happened the day Fredrick died. A secret that caused years of alienation between Charles and Louise. Now Charles, having recovered from his alcoholism, is trying to rebuild that relationship, aided by his friend Bobby.

While some of the scenarios here are rooted in Native American culture, the book could really apply to all of us; family, secrets, misunderstandings, relationship issues are things we all must deal with and Charles' story resonates on all these levels. An interesting read.

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3 people found this helpful

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