Kirkus wrote, “[this] ruminative novel captivates through the complexity and vulnerability of its characters and the excellence of its prose, polished to a luminous transparency.” He is the recipient of Yaddo, MacDowell, and Breadloaf fellowships and has published work in the New York Times, the New Republic, Iowa Review, American Scholar, Sewanee, The Believer, The Common, and elsewhere.
Zebrun applied the Page 69 Test to his new novel, Hart Island, and reported the following:
From page 69:Visit Gary Zebrun's website.“Bad juju,” Jesús says. “Gold Arches dude dead is bad juju.”How surprised I was when I came upon Page 69! While it doesn’t represent the key conflicts in the novel, nor are its characters the major ones, it does remind me of how much fun I had imagining the burial crew of Hart Island, five Rikers' inmates, and their reaction to burying the indigent, unclaimed and unknown in New York City’s potter’s field. The scenes where they interact with one another and react to the task of caring for the dead in their final moments engaged me; I was able to imagine how these “outcasts” would identify with the dead, with curiosity, respect, and sometimes humor. The Gold Arches dude in the first sentence refers to a coffin marked “Ronald McDonald 042406,” which they had just loaded onto the ferry before heading off to Hart Island. There are numerous scenes throughout the novel that portray these five men who leave the hellhole of Rikers Island prison for the day and find a kind of solace in the work of being gravediggers and witnesses to lives that would have been completely forgotten in their final moments if it weren’t for these Rikers’ angels.
Even Hemins and Booker shake their heads. “What kind of parent does that?” Hemins asks.
“Stupid or perverted,” Booker says.
Franklin and Al untie the ropes and shout up to Sal that all the lines are unhitched. Booker remains under the canvas cover with Hemins and the crew. In the wheelhouse, Sal switches on the navigation to help him through the haze.
Zookie turns to Jesús. “Did you hear about the tsunami?”
“Wha that, Japanese fish? I don’t eat it raw.”
“Shit, Jesús. You ain’t that dumb. It’s the big one. A tidal wave,” Franklin says.
“Somewhere in the South Pacific. It swept away a whole island,” Al says.
Jason says, “It could happen here.”
“Wha?” Jesús asks.
“A lot of death,” Jason says.
“Shit, we don’t need mo boxes,” Jesús says.
A hard rain starts, striking the tarp so insistently that the crew is quiet the rest of the way. When they dock at Hart Island, the downpour has eased to a drizzle and the fog has pretty much lifted. A cold easterly pinprick spray off the Sound strafes their faces.
“Not going to get much better than this,” Booker shouts up to Sal. “Supposed to come down hard off and on all day.” Turning to Hemins and the crew, he says, “Let’s get these coffins in the ground.”
“You the boss,” Jesús says, trying to put a hint of mojo back in his voice.
Jesús and Zookie carry a coffin, Beatrice Shepard 022407. “What kind of name is Beatrice?” Zookie asks.
“A beauty,” Jesús says. “She light. I bet she black, she sings like Summer Walker.”
“Who’s she?”
“Ain’t sayin’. She on Spotify. When you get out, you find Summer. Man, she all sugar.”
Al hears them talking and says, “Shit, Shepard isn’t a black name.”
The protagonist of the novel is Sal Cusumano, the ferryboat captain, who hauls the crew and coffins to Hart Island. In its essence, I think, Hart Island is a novel about two families: Sal’s family on Staten Island that includes mafia ties; his adopted brother who became his lover; his brother, a dirty NYC homicide detective; and his mother who’s going deeper and deeper into dementia. The second family is what Sal finds at New York City’s potter’s field: the island itself and its long history, the Rikers burial crew and its two DOC keepers, and especially the dead, new and old, buried there on Long Island Sound.
--Marshal Zeringue
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