If tragic loss, young love, a Nazi evildoer, and an out-of-this-world parrot charged with building a revolutionary organization in the context of a social justice struggle intrigues you, then Exit Velocity is your read. In this novel by Barbara Gregorich, a young woman whose high school-aged sister was recently shot dead struggles to rebuild her life. With the help of a network of activists and an extraterrestrial parrot who is anything but bird-brained, our hero overcomes significant obstacles. This is a story of self-discovery and solidarity triumphing over class enemies.
Improbable? Yes, but captivating too. And who can’t use a bit of fantasy to set things right while the world around them shakes from greed, want, and mayhem. Gregorich’s efforts here are also a positive byproduct of the Covid pandemic. As she notes in her blog, “I spent all of 2020 and part of 2021 writing Exit Velocity. I wrote it faster than I believed possible (but what else was there to do?).”
The setting is Chicago and the hero is Rowan Pickett, a college dropout in need of a job after her mother disappears to grieve the death of her youngest daughter. Though floundering, Rowan has resources—long-time friends, kindly neighbors, committed comrades, class-conscious workmates, and a mission-driven parrot. Add to this network a camera-savvy blogger, whose nose for both a good story and a damsel in distress brings him to Rowan’s side, and the stage is set for a story of self-discovery pitched against the background of a struggle for human rights.
The road to victory has many turns, not the least of which is the parrot, Deeplea, who flies into Rowan’s life to provide otherworldly assistance to the plot as well as some comic relief. For example, Deeplea finds the sprinkled donuts provided by Rowan’s podcast lover, Jake Terranova, irresistible, but their unrestrained consumption threatens both his aerodynamics and the cupboards in which he suspects the donuts are stored. Even an out-of-this-world parrot launched at “exit velocity…134LY” with a mission to bring “peace and joy” to a troubled Earth can’t escape the siren song of earthly donuts.
From the beginning, Exit Velocity’s narrative is driven by contradictions. In the opening chapter Rowan observes a gun control rally in the Chicago Loop. Some of the protestors taunt her for not joining them as she peers out from behind a lamppost, calling her “Gun Girl.” We learn that, even though her sister was murdered with a gun, Rowan is a sharpshooter and eschews gun control. But she is not alone in her opposition. A group of swastika-wearing thugs, led by Zeb Snoddy of the Patriotic Owners of Weapons, also confronts the rally. This contingent demands the elimination of gun-ownership restrictions. Thus, the contradiction multiplies: “Gun Girl” (a member of the Marxist organization, ‘Working Class Control’), and Zeb Snoddy (a Nazi lover), seem to be on the same side of the gun-control issue. However, as Rowan notes, “Both sides, pro-gun, and gun-control, hate me. But for different reasons.”
Deeplea, the parrot sent by his Head of Planet (HOP) to find three forthright warriors for social justice to help lead the fight to save planet Earth, watches over this opening scenario. After Deeplea observes a mysterious incident at the rally (Rowan is incapacitated after someone dumps a loaded garbage can over her head and torso), the parrot follows her home. Thus begins a relationship between the determined activist, Rowan, and the bird with a “Duty to the Universe.” Elaborating on this duty, Deeplea’s mate FeeOna explains, “It is not a place where you will be able to convince the evil-doers to give up their ways. Your mission is to help the inhabitants build an organization that will guide them in ending the misery and violence of their daily existence. Specifically, your mission is to find, protect, and nurture three individuals who will help lead such an organization.”
The plot unfolds through short chapters with alternating perspectives from the main characters: Rowan, Jake, and Deeplea. While the plot unfolds through the three perspectives, we learn something of the other characters through their interactions with the three principals. For example, in a conversation with Jake, Titus Longshaw—leader of Rowan’s Marxist organization, the Working Class Command (WCC)—reveals his understanding of Marxism as well as the roots and history of Black resistance. While these interactions help shape the minor characters, I at times wondered how they reflected on events. For example, Titus, a longtime friend of Rowan’s family, seems to have a backstory that is unrevealed, or only hinted at, though he is described as a “natural born leader” and a “Black revolutionary.” Even the villain Snoddy—described as “pure evil” in the book—had me wondering about his roots. Nevertheless, there is no guessing about which side each character is on, nor on the justice of Snoddy’s fate.
The author tackles a list of social issues, including gun control, suicide, the rights of workers, women, and minorities, and the importance of self-defense for women. For the most part, the lessons from the struggles around these causes emerge believably from the observations and interactions of the main characters. However, there are a few instances where I felt I was being ushered into a Militant forum. For example, Rowan gives us a sociological picture of the Chicago neighborhood, Pilsen, then concludes: “Until the working class becomes a growing, visible power, conscious of itself as a class with class interests to fight for, the middle class will keep gravitating toward the power that exists: the ruling class.” Her reflections here seem pulled from a Marxist tract as a way of introducing us to her difficulties with middle-class people. While this essayed reflection does not diminish Rowan’s character, it did remind me of the didactic element of the so-called proletarian fiction of the 1930s, where the characters in many of those novels are largely one-dimensional reporters rather than complicated individuals.