So Much Blue

At first glance, "So Much Blue" seems like a novel about an artist and his paintings. But peel back the layers, and you’re staring at a man wrestling with his past, his family, and the ghosts that no canvas can capture. Kevin Pace, a 56-year-old African-American abstract painter, is the kind of guy who keeps his cards close—and his emotions closer. The novel unfolds across three timelines, each revealing a piece of Kevin’s puzzle and the shadows he’s been painting around his life.

The earliest timeline takes us back to 1979, when Kevin and his best friend Richard Scott head to El Salvador. Richard’s brother Tad has vanished, and the trip turns into a harrowing search that drags Kevin into violence and moral compromise. This part isn’t just a travelogue or a political backdrop; it’s the origin story of a guilt Kevin buries deep.

Fast forward to the 1990s in Paris, and Kevin is with his wife, Linda. But this isn’t a honeymoon scene. Kevin’s having an affair with Victoire, a young watercolorist whose free spirit contrasts with Kevin’s guarded nature. The affair isn’t just about lust; it’s about escape and the cracks in his marriage. Linda, smart and devoted, senses the distance but doesn’t yet grasp the depth of Kevin’s secrets.

The present-day timeline, set in Kevin’s family home, is where all these threads begin to unravel. Kevin’s relationship with his children, especially his daughter April, is strained. The secret painting—a massive abstract piece he’s never shown anyone—symbolizes the emotional walls he’s built. It’s not just a painting; it’s a confession he’s terrified to make.

What makes "So Much Blue" more than just a story about infidelity and family drama is how it uses art as a language. Kevin’s paintings reflect his inner turmoil, with blue as a recurring color symbolizing everything from loyalty and trust to melancholy and repression. The novel doesn’t spell this out, thankfully—it trusts you to connect the dots between brushstrokes and broken promises.

Percival Everett’s prose is a tightrope walk between precision and emotional depth. There’s humor here, but it’s dry, like a wry smile when you realize life isn’t neat or fair. The shifting timelines keep you guessing, but they never feel gimmicky. Instead, they mirror how memory works—messy, selective, and stubbornly persistent.

Kevin’s character is a study in contradictions. He’s successful but emotionally distant, tender yet secretive. You don’t always like him, and that’s the point. He’s human—flawed and complicated. Linda’s quiet strength and Richard’s scholarly earnestness serve as counterpoints, highlighting how different people handle pain and loyalty.

The novel also touches on family dynamics with brutal honesty. The way Kevin’s children struggle to understand him, and how his silence creates chasms, feels painfully real. It’s a reminder that love isn’t always enough to bridge gaps when trust is broken or withheld.

"So Much Blue" isn’t a fast read or a light one. It demands patience and attention, but it rewards with a nuanced portrait of a man trying to reconcile his past with his present. It’s a meditation on how we hide the parts of ourselves we fear will break others—and sometimes ourselves.

If you’re looking for neat resolutions or a hero’s redemption arc, look elsewhere. This book is about the messy middle, the things we carry quietly, and the colors that never quite fade away.