In Ariel Courage’s novel, “Bad Nature,” a powerful career woman sets out on a road trip intending to kill her father.
By Alissa Nutting
For many people, being diagnosed with terminal cancer at the age of 40 might prompt an instant reassessment of priorities. For Hester, the narrator of Ariel Courage’s debut novel, “Bad Nature,” this means immediately quitting her job in Manhattan to drive across the country and murder her father.
It’s the sole item on her bucket list, and it’s also unfinished business: Her first attempt, at 13, when she shot him with a BB gun to stop him from abusing her mother, coincided with his permanent exit from their household. Since then, their relationship has consisted of Hester checking the internet now and then “to confirm he was alive and therefore still killable.” Think of “Bad Nature” as the anti “Eat, Pray, Love.”
Personal-crisis travel narratives by white women, both memoirs and fiction, tend to follow certain conventions: protagonists embarking on journeys of earnest, emotional introspection in response to devastating news. These women tend not to be jerks. Hester — a lawyer who spends her days negotiating settlements for her conglomerate employer’s E.P.A. violations — runs right over these expectations with her Jaguar E-Type, then throws the car in reverse to do it again.
Putting an unlikable heroine in the (literal) driver’s seat of a debut is an admirable feat, and Courage pulls it off through her character’s ruthless self-awareness, acerbic humor and one-liners so hilarious it’s tempting to read them aloud. “I wondered what my tumor was up to,” she thinks. “My breast was such an inhospitable place, meager and thin. I pictured my tumor like a goat on a cliff’s face, hunting for roughage to gnaw on. You almost had to root for it, the underdog. I called it Beryl.”
Andrew Mayden 
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