Book Reviews: The Little Bastards by Jim Lindsay

Here’s the next review, folks! This time, I’m reviewing an interesting throwback to the 1950s which I think can best be described as Stand by Me mixed with The Outsiders twisted by a sense of humor and adventure unique to this author. The book I’m reviewing in this post is The Little Bastards by Jim Lindsay.

As with each decade since the turn of the twentieth century, growing up in the 1950s was an experience unlike any other, even more so in logging and other rural areas away from the big cities. No war to suffer through and the Great Depression come and gone, it was a time to be wild and push the limits—unfortunately, some limits are there for a reason, and pushing them can have unintended consequences.

The Little Bastards takes the reader through the teenaged years of Sonny Mitchell and his close group of friends, appropriately nicknamed “The Little Bastards”. From bicycles to hot rods, corpses to girls, and chump change to summer jobs, this book follows the transformation of these boys into blue-collar young men. Along the way, readers get to watch as The Little Bastards’ personalities change as well as their interests. Some loosen up, some fall in love, and some reveal a side to themselves that no one knew they had, maybe not even them. All the while, Lindsay reveals what it was like to grow up in the 50s, including some of the stupid sh*t that boys would do. For The Little Bastards, as their risk-taking gets wilder and their need for adventure and rebellion grow, so do their brushes with danger, until it all but becomes too much for anyone to handle.

The first element of this book which caught me off-guard was the seamless way in which Jim Lindsay wrote in the colloquial style of a boy growing up in that decade. Of course, it probably helped that he grew up during that time himself. I didn’t know some of the terms used, given that I wasn’t even born for four more decades, but they’re easy to figure out from context. (Anything I couldn’t figure out I could just look up on Google.)

Still, keeping true to such a voice also meant saying a lot of things which might make some readers uncomfortable. Mostly, the boys swear a lot and use phrases which are not considered “appropriate” nowadays. No big deal for some readers, but a really big deal for others. (I, for one, expect it, especially in a book about this time period.) The swearing also adds even more humor to the tale than there already is, along with some of the other colloquialisms you would probably not say in polite company. Jake’s explanation of Sonny’s erection, for example, had me all but bursting out laughing, but I doubt you’d want to use the phrase “lover’s balls” in mixed company.

Lindsay also develops a wide range of three-dimensional, dynamic characters that I couldn’t help but fall in love with. They certainly deserve their nickname, mind you, but it’s in an almost endearing way. Each of these little bastards have strong, individual personalities and histories which add depth to their character. For me, among the most memorable in the group were Joe, the tough SOB who was practically left to fend for himself due to a bad home life; Billy, the leader of the group as well as the most academic, the only one with plans to go to college; Johnny, the youngest and most gullible in the group, eager to please; Miles, a quiet guy with a beast inside that even his friends don’t expect; and my personal favorite, Archie, the son of a mortician with a grim sense of humor. Sonny is also quite the character, a risk-taker but also hardworking and rather valiant when he wants to be. They each border on stereotype at first, but it doesn’t take long for Lindsay to turn that idea on its head.

The escalation in the costs of their risk-taking had me on the edge of my seat. The narrative grows darker as the boys get older and the risks become more…daring, but, for the most part, the humor still remains to alieve some of the tension. This escalation was aided to an increasing emotional investment in these characters; honestly, I felt as though I could’ve been reading the journal of one of my mom’s older cousins. The voice and strong character development made it easy for me to become emotionally attached. In fact, sometimes the line between fact and fiction became minimal as everything that happened seemed possible. The result: an even stronger reaction to the boys’ misfortunes.

The ending left me surprised. In a way, I’m glad that it didn’t get as dark as it could have. On the other hand, it also left me stunned. I felt as though Lindsay could have easily kept on telling Sonny’s stories and I wouldn’t have gotten bored of them. Still, with a show-stopping conclusion like this, it probably would’ve been pretty hard to top it. Unfortunately, that’s all I can say without giving away too many spoilers.

I noticed a couple minor proofreading errors, but no more than is acceptable in a professionally-published novel.

Overall, The Little Bastards by Jim Lindsay is a great book. It’s funny, engaging, and gripping. Frankly, I think it captures the era perfectly, at least from a teenager’s perspective, and I think that would make it perfect for anyone interested in that time period. For those who aren’t, the characters are entertaining and well-developed, and the situations—all of which are like short stories themselves—will pull you in anyway. There’s nothing better than a couple of fourteen-year-olds getting the crud scared out of them inside a funeral home!

You can buy The Little Bastards by Jim Lindsay as an eBook or in print on Amazon.

Do you know of a book I should read? E-mail me at thewritersscrapbin@gmail.com and let me know!