This is my second novel by Lacey. I thought it was engaging but not as strong as Biography of X. It has some similar themes (mysterious past, conservative religious society) but also some other intriguing pieces (do humans need to be able to categorize other humans to relate to them). I thought it got the point across but was ultimately weakened significantly by a final fifth or so that is so ambiguous as to be frustrating. I am not a reader who needs things tied with a bow. But this was not enough. ( )

Pew is a great read and a remarkably poignant allegory of the modern world. And I do love omelas very much. A surefire way of creating a good book is starting it with Ursula k le guin. My one critique is that it’s a little too on the nose for me like the story does not exist outside of its use as an allegory, which is fine but not my taste.

Unfortunately didnt finish book in time for book club :-( ( )

In a small town in the American South, a young person is found sleeping on a church pew. A couple takes the youth home and offers a place to stay. When they ask questions, they are met with silence, so they decide to call the youth “Pew.” The town is a (so-called) Christian community that holds a (fictitious) “Forgiveness Festival” each year (more like a cult), and Pew has arrived during the week leading up to it.

This is an (intentionally) uncomfortable book. It focuses on the townspeople’s need to label Pew in terms of race, gender, and place of origin. The actions taken by the community are more selfish than kind. Pew is the narrator but tells the reader very little, keeping everything vague and distant. I appreciate the message but found it difficult to feel engaged. The style and structure just did not work well for me. ( )

A brilliantly creepy build-up that covers a lot of interesting ground before ultimately fizzling out in a rather underwhelming fashion. Like reading Nope ( )

In Catherine Lacey’s thought-provoking novel, Pew, a stranger appears out of nowhere in a small town in the American South, discovered asleep in a church by the congregation on Sunday morning. The townspeople are intrigued and mystified by this new presence, but also disturbed because the stranger does not speak, is androgynous and racially ambiguous in appearance, and, though youthful, is of indeterminate age. The Reverend decides that the stranger can go by the name Pew, “Until you get around to telling us something different,” and a young couple, Steven and Hilda, agree to take Pew into their home. The story is narrated by Pew, who seems just as bewildered by the circumstances of his/her arrival in the town as the residents are, and the action takes place in the fraught week leading up to the Forgiveness Festival, a sacred ritual of great and solemn consequence for the town’s many believers. Lacey’s intent here seems to be to illustrate how human behaviours and valuations are influenced by assumptions we make about one another based on physical appearance and personal data such as name, age, gender, place of origin, religious affiliation, etc. Pew stirs up confusion, frustration, unease, even hostility among the townsfolk because in his/her case none of these customary designations are known. Pew’s silent, watchful presence remains a disturbing mystery from his/her first appearance in the church to his/her participation in the Forgiveness Festival at the novel’s ambiguous conclusion. But it’s not as if the reader knows more than anyone else: though Pew narrates, he/she shares no memories of a previous life: Pew seems to have sprung fully formed out of the earth. Lacey’s narrative builds tension as Pew placidly observes the people around him/her struggling to fill the information void he/she creates with his/her withholding silence, trying to figure out how to behave toward him/her. The novel certainly raises fascinating questions about prejudice, societal inflexibility, and the compulsion to categorize people in order to deal with them whether or not those categories are appropriate or assigned fairly. But the narrative has a quality of deliberate vagueness that holds it somewhat aloof, preventing the reader from forging a meaningful connection with the characters and becoming emotionally immersed in their story. At the same time, Lacey’s prose is cool, limpid and filled with quietly memorable and insightful observations about human nature. Pew is a powerfully enigmatic work of fiction, one that—like its main character—holds its secrets close. We finish it with more questions than answers. But ambiguity is clearly fundamental to the effect Lacey is seeking to create. ( )