Faultland: A Novel

By Suzy Vitello

The Sparrow family is falling apart, and now their city is too. When Portland is hit by the Cascadia Subduction Zone earthquake, siblings Morgan, Olivia, and Sherman are tasked with keeping their family alive following one of the worst natural disasters in living memory.

Being a Sparrow child has never been simple. Olivia, Sherman, and Morgan all have their faults, and they all cope with their tumultuous childhood in their own unstable ways: Olivia leads an excessive lifestyle, Morgan cycles through risky behaviors, and Sherman dabbles in morally precarious business practices. Up until now, they have kept their family from completely crumbling; but the cracks in their relationships are about to be unearthed. As their shaky foundations collide, an earthquake levels their city.

Olivia treks across a mutilated Portland to reach her family; Sherman finds it in himself to protect his siblings from militia looters and thugs; and Morgan uncovers the past wrongs of her parents. To make matters worse, their shelter is in the path of a mass of loose earth repeatedly shaken by aftershocks.

When the siblings finally reunite, their new task is to survive long enough to be medevaced from their childhood home in the face of an impending landslide. Previously separated by secrets and resentments, they realize they are now united by survival. If resources don't run out, if sickness doesn't overtake them, if alt-right militia members don't intervene, and if the wet mass of land speeding toward their makeshift shelter doesn't bury them, they will have to navigate their past traumas and their parents' mistakes. Only then can they honor those they have lost—and survive as a family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ooligan Press
• Release date: Mar 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781947845237

Suzy Vitello

Suzy Vitello writes and lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and her dog and occasionally one or more of their five kids. She holds an MFA from Antioch, Los Angeles, and has been a recipient of an Oregon Literary Arts grant. Her previous novels include Faultland, The Moment Before and the YA Empress Chronicles series.

Book preview

PART ONE

Foreshocks

the day before

ONE

October 2030, 10:00 a.m., PDXBarre

The trainer is trying to make eye contact with Olivia.

Up, over, stretch, down, squat, he says, prying at her with his voice.

Olivia sneaks a peek at the oversized clock above the rowing apparatus. Seven more minutes of torture.

This is her fifth of five reduced-price sessions at this downtown Portland gym, and she can’t afford to sign on the dotted line, so she’s mailing in the finale. Going through the motions; fooling nobody. Next week she’ll try a new studio, also coupon inspired.

The lighting is shitty first-gen

led

here, even worse than usual today, blinking in and out. And the colors. Or the lack of them. Beige, tan, ecru, off-white, blah-the default post-pandemic color scheme, one prompted by studies that equated a neutral palette with safety and trust. Olivia disagrees. Folks these days want pizazz. Texture! She’s not here for an interior design consultation, however. Nobody asked her opinion about window treatments or art and textile pairing. Up, over, stretch, down. Squat! A waterfall voice ending in a violent splash. Her body lifelessly follows the commands.

Olivia, says the trainer, are you here?

Sure. I mean, yes.

The trainer snaps his fingers in front of Olivia’s nose. You’re drifting again.

He is no longer calm. He’s preoccupied with the flickering lights, rubbing his temples.

Olivia shakes her head with the vigor of someone trying to free water from an ear canal. The lights are still bugging her.

The trainer is on the short side. Not so short as to assume a Napoleon complex, though one wouldn’t exactly choose him from a sperm donor catalog. His limbs seem stunted when compared with his torso. His head, a bit misshapen. Saving grace though? He’s gym rat muscular, and neatly shorn. A crisp Polo shirt and creased khakis sets him apart from the studio’s underlings-an assortment of recent phys ed grads in sweats. In a different context, this fellow could be Olivia’s type. The way he stands, feet slightly apart, arms folded, head cocked, resembling a younger version of her estranged husband. The trainer’s brashness turns her off, however, and reminds her of present-day Christopher. The trainer’s earlier fake-calm voice is likely a cover. Before Olivia hung a shingle as an interior decorator, she was an aspiring therapist. She knows about cover.

I’m going to be frank, says the trainer. You are wasting your time, and mine, if you tune out during our sessions.

As the coupon’s expiration drew near, they got this way, these gym-rats-turned-hucksters.

I understand, Olivia says, rising from the steel and pleather weight bench. It’s just…

Oh no! She feels tears welling, stinging. These episodes of sadness have been slamming into her lately like sneaker waves. Christopher’s criticisms: Control freak! Always has to be right! Harpy! Bitch! The trainer triggers the echo of her husband’s ex-husband’s—recent verbal attacks.

She will not cry in front of this patriarchal jerk. This condescending piece of shit.

She wills her tears away, sucking the sadness back down her throat.

Do you want a better body, or not? he asks.

Olivia’s breath catches in her chest. She does want a better body. But something about this guy unnerves her. His assumptions about her.

The lights flicker once more as she stares him down. Not, she says, lasering in on his jaw and his gritted teeth. And I’ll be sure to visit Rate My Gym.

Olivia pivots and marches toward the locker room. Behind her back, the trainer is probably clenching his fists when he shouts after her, Sure! Give us a one-star, you ungrateful…

Olivia is already in the locker room so she can’t hear the bitch or twat that ends the sentence. She won’t even bother one-starring him or this place. No way will she waste time detailing the reasons why she’ll never return. Besides, Rate My Gym has already tagged her as a serial malcontent, and she’s blocked from giving reviews. So, no, she won’t look back. She will miss the heated floors though, and the way the no-slip branded socks fit in the stirrups of the various alignment machines. Next week’s studio is on the east side, in one of those converted cargo container buildings. A start-up, probably run by a kid. This is her reality now: scheming bargain workouts and attending grocery store wine samplings on Fridays for the free buzz. Ditto their tooth-picked morsels, though last week Melanie had a fit when she’d accidentally eaten a crumble of pork. What five-year-old declares herself a vegetarian, anyway? Christopher was undoubtedly behind that, watching one of those scary food documentaries in front of their daughter.

Olivia’s skinny jeans aren’t buttoning easily; a new roll of stomach flab is to blame. The poorer she got, the fatter she got. What the fuck was up with that? She’d done all the diets. Even venturing down the skeletarian path, which excluded all food except for flesh that once lived on a creature with a spine. The meat had to be charred over old-fashioned barbecue coals. There were so many steps involved in these eating plans. Chugging cider vinegar a half-hour before consuming the carbon-coated meat, sliding spoonfuls of gelatin down her throat before bed, which cause her breath and farts to stink of vintage port-a-potty. Not that anyone was around to notice.

That would have to change. Once she got fit and her energy returned, she’d add a few more high-end dating apps to her Crypto Cuff, inviting only seven-figure partners to wine and dine her. If she could afford to Botox again, she, pushing thirty-nine, could easily pass for thirty. Possibly even twenty-eight. According to an article she recently scanned, twenty-eight-year-old women were more sought after than any other age and gender-young enough for adventurous college boys and acceptably old enough for twice-divorced men in their fifties.

Speaking of twenty-eight, next to Olivia squats a younger client, gathering items from a lower locker. Lip balm, eye cream. The girl has an ass shaped like a hydroponic cantaloupe. The trainer probably won’t belittle her body. Her effort.

Olivia swallows a mouthful of bitter spit. If only she could suck in her bloated belly and fasten her jeans, she’d make herself wear these ill-fitting pants all day as punishment. A physical reminder that she’d best forgo the Chinese food she’d pre-programmed into her Cuff, ordered via a new robot food delivery app.

Her mouth waters Pavlovian style when the perfect-ass girl beside her says, Hey! You feel that?

Feel what? Olivia asks.

That buzzy vibration.

Olivia gives her jeans another go, pushing her errant gut under the impossibly tight waistband in a final act of force, she clips the snap closed. Buzzy vibration?

Love is in the air, says the girl.

Love? Olivia says, unable to do anything more than repeat the girl, so preoccupied is she with the tourniquet around her waist. All I see in the air are flickering lights.

The perfect-ass girl bounces in place and puts a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. Oh dear. Don’t be such a Negative Nelly. Have a little faith, you know? You’ll get there. Love your body just as it is.

Olivia wants to kick the girl in her amazing ass. The condescension! Instead, she forces a smile and unsnaps her jeans. She yanks the hem of her long sweater to crotch-level as the girl whistles off into the gym for her unnecessary workout.

Olivia’s wrist buzzes. Great. What now?

A face appears on the Cuff’s stamp-sized screen. It’s her daughter’s kindergarten teacher again. Ms. Miller with her mouth moving. Olivia unmutes it long enough to hear …is there anything we should know? Changes to the household?

Olivia smears an X over the screen with her index finger, re-muting the teacher. This is the third time Ms. Miller has called since Christopher moved out. Olivia collapses back onto the bench, her face turned toward the boring beige bank of lockers, her eyes stinging with tears.

She pictures her own mother-a woman who received many phone calls over the years from well-meaning school counselors and teachers. Not due to Olivia’s exemplary behavior, of course. God. Her mother. Her poor, poor mother. That fucking virus.

Olivia’s eyes are still burning. The tears, those stubborn tears, refusing to stream forth. Her sorrow all bottled up in her sinuses somewhere, threatening a sneezing fit. Why is she like this? Why can’t she rage cry? Why and how does inertia find her and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze? It’s suffocating and hateful.

No, she says out loud, her fists bashing bruises into her chunky thighs. Nope. No. Not going to sink into this pity party again.

She stands, shakes the wounding thoughts from her brain, and forces her limbs into movement. It takes everything in her muscle fibers, but she is stepping forward. Onto the next cheap gym. Onto true self-improvement—a better version of Olivia Sparrow. She strides out of the locker room and onto the gym floor, past Miss Perfect Ass, past the rude trainer. A fart accidentally squeaks out as she sucks in her gut, but never mind. This place is history. It’s dead to her.

TWO

12:00 p.m., the Sparrow family home

Ovaries shimmer on a wall in Morgan’s childhood bedroom. A bright orange fallopian tube pulses. Up near the ceiling, where once a wallpaper border of elves fringed the room, cartoon tampons do-si-do with menstrual sponges. These are the graphics for the client’s current ads, and Morgan is both appalled and charmed by them. But mostly appalled. The agency’s client wants messaging for these silly cartoons, along with a script for a new product that promises a cleaner, gentler approach to Aunt Flo. Morgan’s own sex organs ache in response. And not the good kind of ache that comes with a whopping side of desire.

As if in synchronized protest, her elderly father, Clyde, calls from down the hall, stretching out her name the way he only does when he’s hungry or needs help to get to the toilet. His voice tumbles off the millwork, the depth of it countered by the vocal wrinkles of age.

Okay! Morgan answers, sharply. Too sharply, maybe, because the response is a grumble of protest.

It’s only been a few months since she’s been back home to care for her father, and she’s already burned out. Clyde’s rapid trajectory from aches-and-pain-normal to blank-stare-and-drool is alarming. But this man she loves-her daddy-he’s somewhere in there. She regrets her tone and softens it, amending the okay with, I’ll be right there, Clyde!

Calling him by his given name still feels foreign, but he responds to it now—recognizes it—better than he does the designation Dad.

When she was little Morgan loved those time-lapse shows, watching forests burn, fields go brown with blight. She’d shovel popcorn into her mouth, Clyde next to her on the sofa. Now he’s the subject. A living time-lapse of degradation. No money for a decent care center, and forget the alternative. Most affordable nursing homes are cesspools just waiting for the next pandemic to wipe out the residents. Even if they turned over the deed to the family home for one of the upscale virus-proof assisted living units, Clyde has been flagged as a troublemaker by a variety of memory care day programs. No decent rest home will take him, given his surly countenance and his tendency to tell medical people to shove a variety of things up their asses.

Morgan didn’t exactly raise her hand with gusto when it became clear that one of the Sparrow offspring would need to move back into the scarred childhood home, but what choice did she have? What choice does she have now? Her older sister Olivia has a failing marriage and a young daughter, and Sherman, her baby brother, is, well, let’s just say he isn’t really equipped to handle the myriad needs of a man in his eighties who’s spiraling down the dementia sewer pipe.

On the bright side, if there is one, at least Morgan can finally save some money. Her dream fantasy, the one she plays over and over, is to become an expat somewhere warm, somewhere tropical. San Miguel de Allende in Mexico, Costa Rica perhaps, possibly Fiji. Somewhere she can finally put her diving certification or her pilot’s license to use. She dreams of long treks through geothermic terrain. Pegging over rocks and crevices of an alpine meadow.

A couple of years ago, before the rising ocean swallowed them, she’d visited the Marshall Islands on a dive tour. For one afternoon, she fantasized about becoming a breadfruit farmer in Majuro in order to supplement her work as a divemaster, taking tourists on shipwreck expeditions. But Majuro no longer exists, the whole island washed out to sea. In recent months, she’s turned her fantasies to higher ground. Sri Lanka. Upland Maui. New Zealand, perhaps.

On the wall, next to the images of fallopian tubes that bring to mind a ride at Disneyland, Morgan has taped a world map and festooned it with pins marking the destinations she’ll pursue once her duties here are over. She smears her index finger along the map, tracing the countries, the seas. She closes her eyes and repeats a mantra: I will change my life. I will change my life. I will change my life. I will-

Mooooorgan! bellows Clyde.

Ugh.

She peels her hand off the map, and taps the micro screen on her opposite wrist, pausing the slideshow. The beginnings of an ocular migraine thump behind her eye sockets. She blinks, but it’s not enough to quell the ache. Why did she take this job? She’s an independent contractor. She could have said no. She makes a bargain with herself. She’ll quit for the day if she can summon one more bit of copy. She sneaks another glance at the images, and, lo and behold, an idea blossoms. What was that old Rolling Stones song? The one demanding someone get off of a cloud? Couldn’t she jiggle those lyrics into the campaign somehow? Stop, you, you’re messing my vibe. Mess, though. Mess is wrong. The brand seeks to normalize menstruation to the point of welcome. And these days, women, including herself, are falling into early menopause, so who knows how long menstrual products would enjoy their perennial top spot in health and beauty?

Moooooorrrrgan!

Coming!

Jesus. Why did she think this arrangement would work?

She resumes the slideshow. The next slide is a video. Tampons march in a chorus line, their heads red with the suggestion of blood—a nod to the #IBleed movement. When she’s done serving Clyde, she’ll return to the copy. She’ll make a case for including the formerly taboo words—blood, cramps, discharge—to sell The Bestwell Group’s latest product, Period Patches. The words wouldn’t be on the marketing material, necessarily, but definitely in the instructions—safely tucked inside earth-friendly packaging.

Morgan’s head moves into full-on throbbing. Her dry eyes sting. The last seasonal fire petered out several days ago; it’ll be at least a week until the ash level dips to a safe level for allergy-prone people like her. The migraine and dryness she’s experiencing reminds her of the horrific

PMS

episodes of yore.

She scans the images with her itchy eyes one more time, hoping for inspiration. Bestwell is positioned as the premier Gen-Z health and beauty brand, speaking to a generation who would, barring another surge of uterine congenital mutations, be using the products for decades to come. So…discharge. More discharge is called for. She adjusts her Crypto Cuff and taps the Excel Holograph icon that fills the tiny screen on her wrist. A blank, three-dimensional spreadsheet opens in the space between herself and the wall. Parmella, she says, fill column A. First row, hashtag, MyBodyMyChoice. Second row, hashtag, KeepYourHandsOffMyCunt.

All. Right, says Parmella, her computer voice softer than the last incarnation. The characters populate the cells. Unfortunately, what ends up on the spreadsheet is: hashtag, MindBodyMyChase, and hashtag, KeepUrineOfMyGuns.

She needs to adjust the vocal recognition on the artificial intelligence program. Always something.

Morgan, Morg!

Eesh.

◊ ◊ ◊

Down the hall she pads, careful not to snag her woolen socks on one of the odd splinters that have appeared in the last couple weeks. The old wood floors have been warping and buckling. A bit of baseboard has sprung loose of its mitered counterpart, seemingly in concert with Clyde’s failing joints. Old house, old man. Dying together.

Every day, a new sadness.

Morgan wipes a tear from her cheek as she rounds the corner and slips into the former TV room, now known as the day room. Sitting in an old recliner, her rheumy-eyed father stares at nothing. Wisps of white hair cling to his temples. His neck has retracted, his chin now resting against his collarbone. Like many people these days, he’s prone to rashes, and must dress in hypo-allergenic fabric. Today, he’s wearing organic cotton sweatpants and a silk tunic that rises as he jabs his fingers at the blank wall in front of him.

Morgan, too, is prone to chemically induced dermatitis. Her Crypto Cuff often causes a rash to flare on her wrist-an unfortunate, yet common, side effect of the device that replaced smartphones after the Chinese cyber-attack several years ago. Cuffs were constructed with a proprietary substance made from aluminum, cadmium and mercury. They were infused with something called Malophil, which was supposed to be impervious to foreign infiltration. The fast-track approval skipped over a few of the usual testing trials, ergo rashes and other allergic reactions affected a good bit of the population.

As much as she empathizes with Clyde, it’s always a fight to quell her urge to snap at him.

What do you need? now! she wants to add, though this time, she resists.

The, the…the thing, says her father, clicking an invisible remote.

We don’t use those anymore, remember?

She searches her father’s liver-spotted, eczema-ridden forearm for his Crypto Cuff, fiddling with the material of his moth-holed tunic sleeve.

"Face Your Destiny is on, he says. Why don’t you brush your hair, Sylvia?"

Sylvia is the name of the caseworker they had before Wanda. Sylvia’s hair was a nest of tangled curls. Morgan smooths her hand over her own unkempt auburn mop-it’s true, she isn’t exactly put together. One of those by-products of not having an office to go to. Probably yesterday’s mascara has left her with raccoon-eyes. Did she even brush her teeth today?

I want my show! Clyde argues.

Morgan quells the urge to lash out, forcing calm up her throat. Daddy, her brain thinks, but what comes out is a brusque, Did you flush your Cuff down the toilet again, Clyde?

He scans his left arm, his lap, his right arm, and nods.

Great. Now she has to decide yay or nay. To go down the whole logical consequences route or give him another Cuff. Four backups lie carefully nested in the utility room’s tech drawer; once those are gone, that’s it. Since they’re biometrically programmed to avoid hacking by cyber terrorists, there’s a 90-day waiting period for replacements.

Morgan realizes that she relies on Clyde’s Cuff for babysitting, and that’s not doing her father’s deteriorating mind any favors. The Angel of Mercy caregiver, Wanda, was firm about that. The dementia-riddled brain deteriorates faster if it doesn’t have work to do. He shouldn’t, she’d huffed, be watching so much screenvision. He should be forced to play memory games, or ones with arithmetic. You have a cribbage board somewhere? Some board games stored away?

Yeah but-she’d wanted to respond-the quiz shows stimulate his brain, too. A lie, of course. Clyde now zones out during the active parts of the contests. He watches these programs for the young ladies showcasing the prizes, his leering expression no longer hidden under a once distinguished brow.

Morgan sighs, Sorry, Clyde. You’ll have to do without the show today.

Girl! he argues, call the, oh, forget it. Sandwich.

Clyde’s supplement milkshake is half gone and too warm to be palatable. There are a half dozen pre-made shakes in the fridge-Wanda always makes sure they’re available in between her visits. The breakfast burrito Morgan nuked earlier sits messily on a plate beside him, with only a couple bites taken from it and the bean mash guts leaking out. She sweeps the bottle of supplement up, along with the bean-leaking dish, spins around, and marches the food farther down the hall to the kitchen.

The window next to the microwave looks over the empty lot behind their house. Neighbors are flinging rubberized toys for their dogs under October haze. Today, the dogs seem particularly bouncy and barky. One terrier keeps sniffing at the ferns and then dancing on its hind legs, whining loud enough to permeate the old house’s thick walls. The dog seems anxious, but he’s so cute, like an animal from a circus show.

Morgan feels a smile curl her lips at the sight. Her lip muscles relax with the memory that Clyde, prior to his dotage, used to love watching the animals cavort-his word-and wrestle around. Each morning, he’d set out bowls of water in shiny stainless-steel pots. Now, though, he’s become a fist-thrusting crank. Occasionally, he’s paranoid, thinking the dogs and their owners are the Cascadia Citizen’s Alliance-a group of Right Wash vigilantes that have infested sanctuary cities since the Trump era. Clyde recently requested that Morgan purchase rat poison and lure the dogs to a tainted roast chicken.

Wanda blames it on the deterioration of his left frontal lobe. Wanda, with her flawless, allergy-free, latte-colored skin, perfect except for a white, heart-shaped birthmark on her forehead. Her impeccable and tightly-bunned hair, wrestled out of kink; a cultivated arch in her brows. Morgan is appreciative of the care Wanda gives to Clyde, and yet, there’s something so judgmental in her assessments. For instance, last week Wanda accused Morgan of inattention. She came right out and said, Sometimes it helps if you join him for meals. Even if it’s only sipping on a milkshake along with him. The supplement actually tastes fairly decent.

Morgan agrees that the milkshakes aren’t half bad-and had, indeed, been joining her father for "happy

Reviews for Faultland

[amethyst2mirfi · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I received a free copy of this book from the publisher as part of the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program.This book takes a while to warm up, where you meet al the characters. Find out how they are related and fit together.Then the earthquake happens. This is where the story comes together the most. Where you start to understand how the people are linked together.The descriptions of the earthquake and the aftermath seem realistic ,(to someone who doesn't really know much about earthquakes). How each person is trying to find the others as well as just survive.The one thing that bothered me, is that is set in the future, but at times it didn't read like it was. It just seemed like current times with some crazy technology thrown in.It was a good enough read

[redmolly6 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I received a copy of this book from LibraryThing in exchange for an honest review.I loved this gripping and insightful story and could hardly put it down. The characters were interesting and realistic, and I found myself thinking about them even when I wasn't reading. The sibling rivalries were well-portrayed. I love stories about dysfunctional/ troubled families. The history of the family's issues is layered into their struggle to survive this apocalyptic earthquake, along with some sharp political observations. I'm eager to read more from this author. Highly recommended.

[literatefool-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I just finished this book today. It isn't my usual reading material as I tend to stay away from dystopian novels. But..I gave it a try.It is a good read. Well written. The author manages to keep track of multiple narrators and situation well. I believe the author portrayed a lot of the fears for the future coming true.Unfortunately there were enough narrators that none of them got a chance to really evolve as we read. Even at the end when one of the bad guys ended up helping. There wasn't really enough to make sense of it. Or of the father. In short, the characters were all shorted in development.And yet- I liked how it ended. Even if the character development was more told than shown. A decent read.

[kazevedo_53 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I recommend this topical and affecting novel of a near future Portland, Oregon. Rich in characterization, it features members of a dysfunctional family trying to survive after a massive earthquake devastates the city. The growth of the characters along with the authoritarian regime under which they live and revelations tying the family's past to present circumstances make for a compelling read.

[lisbethe-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I received a free e-copy of this book from LibraryThing's Early Reviewers program, in exchange for an honest review.Two basic facts affect my review: 1) dystopian lit is not a favorite genre, but 2) I grew up in Portland, Oregon, where the novel is set. So, these two factors play off one another throughout my reading. The characters themselves, most of them members of the Sparrow family, are each unlikable in their own particular ways. This is actually fine, and it's fun to get to know each of them through their own eyes and as they are each viewed by the others. The book is set in the not very distant future, and it's also interesting and a bit chilling to note the extent to which Right Wing militias have come to influence civic life. But the big actor is the occurrence of a significant earthquake in Portland, and how the characters strive not only to survive but to uncover family issues and secrets that have lain dormant for years. For readers who are Portlanders, the earthquake that "might be" is a source of frequent speculation and anxiety. So that gave the book an urgency to ME that might not trigger a non-local reader in the same way. Same goes for all of the geographical and cultural name-dropping. It drew me in (" I KNOW that place!"), but would be meaningless to many others. It's a fast read, and compelling enough to be called a page turner. I didn't LIKE the characters, but I did want to find out what happened next. I would recommend.

[mishker-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A devastating earthquake hits Portland in the year 2030.  The earthquake instantly kills, injuries and cuts off many from clean water, food and medical help.  Among the survivors are the dysfunctional Sparrow family. Eldest sibling, Olivia, the keeper of the family trauma, is attempting to get out of downtown and back to her daughter and family home.  Sherman, owner of a dispensary bed and breakfast and Morgan, the family risk taker are both at the family home taking care of their aging father, Clyde along with Olivia's daughter, Melanie and Clyde's nurse, Wanda when the quake hits. The unlikely team of survivors now must make decisions that impact others as well as themselves.  While they are trying to sort through the trauma, the Sparrows uncover the source of their family strife, a secret that their family kept for decades that hurt many others along the way. Faultland is an unexpected family drama that slowly unfolds after a major earthquake Portland. Set ten years in the future, the consequences of the current COVID-19 pandemic and fallout from the Trump presidency play a large part in how the world now works. It was interesting to see how this impacted daily life in the not too distant future.  Faultland is carried by the characters. None of the characters are especially good, and I didn't find myself rooting for anyone in particular.  The earthquake forced the Sparrow siblings to come to terms with their childhood and make decisions for the greater good that they would have never made before.  The secret that Clyde had kept had far reaching effects. The author weaves parts of the secret through the story through the memories of each character so that it seems more important to their personal stories than the whole at first and does not fully connect till the end.  This book was received for free in return for an honest review. 

[tjsjohanna_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I always like post disaster stories - how people survive and what they learn is always compelling. At the heart of this novel is the way that the earthquake shakes loose closely held family secrets and how that changes everything. Unfortunately, there is not enough character development and too much use of stereotype to explain who people are. Also, the novel is also a bully pulpit for the author's political views and that gets in the way of enjoying the story of the family.

[candyh_64 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

I received this book from LibraryThing. It’s the story of the Sparrow family. Among other things, it’s the story of the 3 siblings survival of a major earthquake. I did not care for this mostly disgusting book. And I would not recommend it to anyone.

[06nwingert · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Siblings Sherman, Olivia and Morgan, along with Morgan’s husband, Christopher and child Melanie, are caught in an earthquake in Portland. Each is dealing with their own problems when the quake hits, forcing them to turn to survival mode, although Christopher does. In the aftermath, they discover their father was involved in blackmail. Fault land is a double entendre: both the fault that caused the quake and their own faults. A good read,but too much left-wing bias.

[nellbailey-95274 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Though this book features a devastating earthquake, the heart of the story is all about the Sparrow family's ongoing drama. We meet three siblings and spend the novel navigating through their arguments, betrayals, secrets and mysteries—while Portland, Oregon deals with the worst natural disaster in US history. Personally, I didn't particularly enjoy this book. All three siblings were written in a way that showed both their flaws and strengths, but the flaws so enormously outweighed everything else that I found it almost impossible to grow attached to any of them, excluding sweet little Melanie and her beloved Poohead. The biggest sticking point for me in this novel is the speculative nature and the time period. We are introduced to 2030 Portland, which is now overrun by Neo-Nazis called CCA. This story is very much anchored in this exact social and political moment. Readers who discover the book in the future will be able to tell from the first few chapters that the story was written in mid to late 2020. I really disliked all the hyper-specific cultural references from a year that was meant to have occurred a decade ago, as it really took me out of the time period. Also, despite being fully left-wing in my political beliefs, the heavy-handedness of the political commentary through this novel just really turned me off! So many internal monologues and character interactions were hinged on political topics, I just did not find this kind of thing enjoyable to read. Despite all this, I am still giving the book a 3 star rating. Reading it helped me further understand my own literary interests, and (being a sucker for survival stories) I enjoyed the aftermath of the earthquake and the group struggle to survive. I recommend this book if you like disaster and/or survival novels, family dramas, or contemporary political commentary.

[breakfastatholly · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I had a lot of feelings reading this book. It's set in Portland, 10 years in the future, in the wake of a long-lasting COVID-19 pandemic and some really chilling outcomes from the Trump presidency. Reading it right now, in the midst of said pandemic and in Portland, was a lot to take it. At times I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to finish it - not because it wasn't a good read but because it felt too potentially real.All that said, this book was really gripping and I struggled to put it down even when it was making me feel intensely anxious (both for the characters and myself). At first it was hard to sympathize with any of the main characters, but they slowly get rounded out into full humans and you just have to root for them to be okay at the end of this catastrophe. I like that there was a bit of a family secret mystery wrapped up inside the earthquake survival saga and it was fun to see how everything unraveled. I did struggle a bit with placing this book in the time it was supposedly set. Sometimes the references seemed like they would have been a bit too dated given the future setting and yet at the same time the vast changes that remade this world seemed like they would have taken longer than just 10 years. I also bumped a bit on the various tense and perspective changes throughout the book and some minor inconsistencies that I'm sure will be smoothed out with some more editing.Overall, a really compelling read....if a bit nerve-wracking in how plausible the dystopian future presented in it seems.

[lam32767 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Be careful; EVERYthing in this book is connected down to the last blade of grass and rock sitting before you! Pay attention! This story is set a few decades in our future, portraying a chilling and accurate description of how we could possibly end up, the way things are going today. Note: this book may not be for you if your views are on the, ummmm, uhhhh, "reddish" end of the political spectrum. ;) Oh, but wait, maybe you just MIGHT like it, saying "Hey, I LIKE if it could turn out this way!" I started this book recognizing and appreciating all of the daily hassles we all go through, as Vitello describes the days of each of the main characters. And then my favorite sentence: "We’re all just one misfortune away from living in a tent" occurs, and "the big one" hits, ruining everyone's lives and destroying the whole town. From that point, all of the connections start connecting, and we see it all unfold before us. I won't tell you if we all live happily ever after or not; you find out when you read the book.

[lgood67334 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Earthquakes and dysfunctional families have something in common: both are unpredictable. The Sparrow family has three chronologically adult children: Olivia, a materialistic sister, Sherman, a pot-selling brother, and Morgan, a woman who does her best to take care of her six-year-old niece, her father’s dementia, and her raging siblings. Suzy Vitello combines this secretive family with a geological earthquake disrupting everything it touches in her timely novel, Faultland. When the earthquake destroys the Sparrow’s family home, the family vacates the premises while clinging to their grudges. Family tensions escalate as they set up camp in an outbuilding and take in an alt-right refugee with a family, because there are no medical facilities to handle him or their dad’s caregiver, whose leg got so badly damaged in the evacuation that she can barely hobble.Olivia is getting her hair colored when the 6.9 earthquake rocks Portland. Determined to get back to the six-year-old daughter she believes may have perished at school, she defies all odds, crossing the contaminated Willamette River and re-evaluating her life while in transit.Set in the future, chaos reigns throughout Portland as it has since the year of the COVID-19 pandemic. This look at the chaos they’re headed into is both frightening and revealing as the Sparrow’s struggle to make peace with their past in view of the disaster destroying the last of what they once knew. Can they stop bickering and start surviving despite the odds against them? Author Suzy Vitello describes both the physical and emotional mayhem with accuracy, energy, and perception. She gives the characters room to grow, despite the odds against it. We catch them in the act of making right choices. Whatever struggles you’re facing right now, this will put them in perspective. Strongly recommended.

[modioperandi · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Suzy Vitello's Faultand is an affecting story of family, politics, and natural disaster. In Faultland family, politics, and natural disaster combine with each other and play off and echo and magnify the problems lurking below. Secrets held within the earth explode in a powerful destructive devastating earthquake. Secrets of nefarious political groups boil to the surface, but not quite. Family secrets and sibling rivalry all come to the fore in an explosive crescendo that is the entirety of the novel. Faultland is an addictive page turner that is unsettling in it's near future imagining of America that feels all too real. It is not a horror story but there is horror - deep disturbing horror of the imagining of where things could go in the near future. What will keep you reading and engaged thoughout is the Sparrow Family. Really good. Recommended.