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"When the sheriff of Twist Creek Country - and all those other sons of bitches, the Baldwin-Felts agents and bloodthirsty strikebreakers - finally caught my great-great-grandfather and dragged his ass up from the mine to make a spectacle of his execution, they killed him by hammering a railroad spike through his mouth." (Compound Fracture, p1)

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"When the sheriff of Twist Creek Country - and all those other sons of bitches, the Baldwin-Felts agents and bloodthirsty strikebreakers - finally caught my great-great-grandfather and dragged his ass up from the mine to make a spectacle of his execution, they killed him by hammering a railroad spike through his mouth." (Compound Fracture, p1)

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This is the very first sentence in the book and it's powerful. Not only does it provide important context about Miles' past, but it also sets the tone for his future. Without pulling any punches, Andrew Joseph White plunges the reader into Twist Creek County, West Virginia and gives them a very clear look at the darkness ahead.

Along with setting the tone for the novel, it provides a running bit of foreshadowing. Throughout the novel, the railroad spike is an important symbol, as is Saint Abernathy's execution. The spike itself represents the struggle of not only Saint and Miles, but anyone who is perceived as "different" by bigots. Sadly, as with what happened with Saint, this struggle often ends with hatred, prejudice, and bigotry winning out. But this isn't always the case as evident by the ending of the book.

Much like Saint's presence, his death and the object used to do it follow both Miles and the reader as they plunge deeper and deeper into the twisted and rotting heart of Twist Creek. It beautifully sets the tone, puts the reader in the story, and shows the unbridled grit and blood to come.

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"Oh. I'd recognize one of those anywhere. (...) It's a chest binder. (...) He transitioned and made himself out of nothing. Whoever he'd been before, he'd destroyed them perfectly, and now all that exists is Saint." (Compound Fracture, p125)

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"Oh. I'd recognize one of those anywhere. (...) It's a chest binder. (...) He transitioned and made himself out of nothing. Whoever he'd been before, he'd destroyed them perfectly, and now all that exists is Saint." (Compound Fracture, p125)

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Aside from this moment bringing me to tears, Saint's reveal as a transgender man is one of the most powerful moments in Compound Fracture.

While it does provide a very worthy twist, it also gives Miles a much deeper connection to both his past and the blood feud between the Abernathy family and the Davies family. For all their differences, Miles and Saint are truly one in the same when it comes down to it. Both of them were beaten to the ground simply for trying to fight the system rigged against them. Both of them had to hide part of who they were until they found the confidence and the people who would stand next to them.

It ties the past with the present, being yet another reflection of how life for some hasn't gotten better. How it's always been not just an uphill battle but a battle up a near-flat cliff. It reflects the theme of the cycle cannot be broken by one person but by a group of people willing to stand together. Not only must Miles stand with his friends and family to survive the Davies and the world that tells him he's worthless, but he must stand with his past.

Saint and Miles fought in two very different times. Yet, they fought a very similar battle.

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"'So now he takes half of what we make and rent on top of that, and when my dumb ass told Noah I wanted to leave? (...) He put the barrel of his daddy's gun in my mouth and told me if I said that again, he'd blow my  jaw off. Cause I got to be the one to run this place for him when he grows up. (...) I should've let him,' he says, and I can't tell if he's about to laugh or cry." (Compound Fracture p227)

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"'So now he takes half of what we make and rent on top of that, and when my dumb ass told Noah I wanted to leave? (...) He put the barrel of his daddy's gun in my mouth and told me if I said that again, he'd blow my  jaw off. Cause I got to be the one to run this place for him when he grows up. (...) I should've let him,' he says, and I can't tell if he's about to laugh or cry." (Compound Fracture p227)

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This is truly one of the most powerful lines in Compound Fracture. Up until now, we've been led to believe that Paul, much like Eddie, supported Noah and his vile actions. But when Miles and Cooper finally confront him, it's discovered that in reality, the Davies' grip on Twist Creek is choking everyone. The sheriff and his son have ruled over Twist Creek with an iron fist and iron resting on their belts, waiting to be used. They operate by a "you're with us or you're dead" mentality, ready to scare, threaten, and silence anyone who challenges them. This fear ran Miles' life before he was attacked, led to the death of Cooper's mother, and hurt so many more families than just the Abernathy family.

It's here, where Miles learns that he and Paul are two sides of the same coin. Both of them suffer in the shadows by Noah's or Sheriff Davies' hands, but only one of them could find the strength to fight back. Unlike Miles, Paul is fighting alone. Unlike Miles, there's no one to support him, no one willing to stand beside him. Which is what ultimately made him an easy target for Noah, the sheriff's son chaining Paul to his side like a dog.

It's this moment that allows Miles' moral compass to come back into play and he remembers the cycle of violence between the Davies and the Abernathys. Death leads to death, murder leads to murder, and soon, the whole town suffers in the crossfire. It's what lets him see that Cooper has already been devoured by this cycle and helps him pull back and find support later on after Paul's death.

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"He had his keys. The keys to his truck, the keys to Sunoco up on thee hill and the one in  Pearson. His house key too. They're hanging out of his pocket the way he always had them, because he liked to hear them jingle when he walked." (Compound Fracture p.316)

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"He had his keys. The keys to his truck, the keys to Sunoco up on thee hill and the one in  Pearson. His house key too. They're hanging out of his pocket the way he always had them, because he liked to hear them jingle when he walked." (Compound Fracture p.316)

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Up until this very moment, I had very mixed feelings about Cooper. But this small, personal detail brought me to tears. It would've been so easy simply for Andrew Joseph White to describe his body lying on the porch. That's all he had to do and the moment would still be powerful. But this one small detail of him having his keys, makes the pain all the more prevalent. It's a turning point in Compound Fracture, with loss and pain piling up until Miles realizes the only way to escape is to go back to his roots.

Each key that Cooper has can also be interpreted as symbols. The key to his truck represents the way he and Miles wanted to escape Twist Creek. The key to Sunoco calling back to happier times between Miles and Cooper when they could just be kids, enjoying ice cream together without worrying about being killed for standing up to the Davies family. His house key, a broken and hollow home that carried so much grief. His mother killed, his father permanently scarred, it represents how he had so desperately tried to find a home in Miles.

It gives further depth to Cooper at a time when the reaction to him could be less than friendly. After all he's done, after he lashed out, we're reminded he's suffering too. That he was another victim of the world that kicked people like him, Miles, and Dallas to the ground and wouldn't let them up until they were begging.

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"'Atta girl. I don't feel good about killing kids, you know. I don't like this any more than you do. (...) But that was mine.' Not That was my son. Not That was my boy, you son of a bitch. Just You took something that belonged to me. You made me look weak." (Compound Fracture p.350)

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"'Atta girl. I don't feel good about killing kids, you know. I don't like this any more than you do. (...) But that was mine.' Not That was my son. Not That was my boy, you son of a bitch. Just You took something that belonged to me. You made me look weak." (Compound Fracture p.350)

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Until now, Sheriff Davies has always hidden behind a forced smile. However, when Miles physically and emotionally hits his breaking point and Davies finds himself once again on the winning side, we see his true nature. Throughout the entire book, the relationship between Davies and Noah had never been explicitly stated or even implicitly implied. But one would think that the father would feel some sort of love for his son. This is what makes the line so shocking, as the reader along with Miles discovers that Davies only cared about Noah being the next in the bloodline. That he could keep the iron grip over Twist Creek for another generation.

To treat anyone, especially your own child, as no more than a mere object or possession, is unbelievably cruel. Every time that Davies hit a new low, from constantly raising rent on Paul's family, to trying to kill Miles' and Cooper's fathers, to covering up Miles' beating, this is the first time we see the extent of his cruelty. It makes you wonder if Davies even feels anything at all.

This moment also builds suspense as we begin to fear for Miles' life. In a single shocking moment, he goes from running home to running out of time. Both the audience and Miles knows that Davies is more than willing to kill anyone who gets in his way, including children. Like all his other books, AJW begins to build the suspense as the climax of the story draws closer and closer.

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"Saint Abernathy reaches into his throat and rips out his own railroad spike. He says through phlegm and blood: 'Remember me?' Sheriff Davies looks up. Because Sheriff Davies hears him-" (Compound Fracture p.356)

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"Saint Abernathy reaches into his throat and rips out his own railroad spike. He says through phlegm and blood: 'Remember me?' Sheriff Davies looks up. Because Sheriff Davies hears him-" (Compound Fracture p.356)

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At last, the past collides with the present, so forcefully that the dead can finally speak. Not only is Saint's first spoken words in Compound Fracture powerful, but it's also a powerful symbol. For so long, minority communities including the LGBTQIA+ communities and anyone suffering from poverty have been silenced. Silenced by powerful men who abuse that power, just to make the weak weaker, the poor poorer, and the iron grip tighter. So Saint essentially saying "enough" and breaking the silence to defend Miles paints the picture of a man far more powerful than Davies could ever be. Because his power comes not from personal gain, but from the strength needed to fight back against a world that wants people like him dead simply for daring to breathe. For wanting people to be safe and not have their lungs clouded with coal dust and their own blood.

When hundreds of people scream in unison, it's a deafening sound that cannot be ignored. It can be hated, it can be shot at with rubber bullets and can be choked out with tear gas. It can be cut off by a piercing railroad spike or from the blast of a hunting rifle. But it can't be ignored. And when that one voice, the voice of someone who's been through hell and back simply to live, finally cuts through the crowd, even the coldest soul can't turn away.

It also cements the final connection between Saint and Miles. In the rest of Compound Fracture, Miles picks up where Saint left off. Doing what Saint couldn't do. But now, when he's on his deathbed, Saint returns the favor. It builds Saint's character from a ghost to Miles' guardian, saving his life.

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"'I get it,' Saint says, lighting a cigarette with a match. Nobody sees him but me. His voice is softer than I'd expected - raspy from smoking and the years he forced it down to pass as male, but still gentle. This is how I imagined he spoke to Lucille to soothe her when she cried. 'I'm tired too. But I get to sleep. Not you.'" (Compound Fracture p.361)

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"'I get it,' Saint says, lighting a cigarette with a match. Nobody sees him but me. His voice is softer than I'd expected - raspy from smoking and the years he forced it down to pass as male, but still gentle. This is how I imagined he spoke to Lucille to soothe her when she cried. 'I'm tired too. But I get to sleep. Not you.'" (Compound Fracture p.361)

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In a way, this is AJW's call to action. Despite this not being an essay, it still features a very prevalent message. We can't wait for things to get better, nor can we "pause" or a take a break in fighting for justice. Those who died fighting get to have their rest and now it's our generation's turn to pick up the torch and carry on. Nothing changes overnight and even at our lowest points, we can't just roll over that let hate win. The problems Miles face is not isolated to Twist Creek. It's a world-wide struggle that's been going on for centuries.

As well as this, this moment is where Miles gets to know he's won this battle. The war still rages but at least for now, the blood feud has ended. The healing can begin as finally, the past is put to rest.