Everything Must Go

Everything Must Go

3.0 11
by Elizabeth Flock

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To those on the outside, the Powells are a happy family, but then a devastating accident destroys their fragile facade. When seven- year-old Henry is blamed for the tragedy, he tries desperately to make his parents happy again.

As Henry grows up, he is full of potential—a talented sportsman with an academic mind and a thirst for adventure—but soon he…  See more details below


To those on the outside, the Powells are a happy family, but then a devastating accident destroys their fragile facade. When seven- year-old Henry is blamed for the tragedy, he tries desperately to make his parents happy again.

As Henry grows up, he is full of potential—a talented sportsman with an academic mind and a thirst for adventure—but soon he questions if the guilt his parents have burdened him with has left him unable to escape his anguished family or their painful past.

With a delicate touch and masterful attention to detail, New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Flock invites us to meet a man both ordinary and extraordinary, and to experience a life that has yet to be lived.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
For Henry Powell, every day is the same: he wakes just before 7 a.m. to prepare for work at the men's clothing store he's worked at since he was 17. Now 31, he's ready to die of boredom. Henry briefly escaped from his small New England town via college, but family problems his alcoholic mother and his emotionally icy father needed help and his brother had moved away brought him back from college in the early '80s. Every now and then, an acquaintance from Henry's prestigious prep school stops by the store, but much of Henry's time is spent in fantasyland, where he is a famous rock musician or the subject of a biography. A romance with Cathy Nicholas, who works at a neighboring coffee shop, is promising, but that, too, peters out. As Henry's temporary leave from college becomes permanent and the years tick by, it seems nothing except the style of pants he sells will change. Until the store goes out of business on wait for it September 10, 2001, and change for Henry promptly ensues. Flock (But I'm Screaming Inside; Me & Emma) fills the flashback-heavy book with cultural touchstones from the era of big hair and unfortunate fashion and manages an optimistic conclusion to Henry's drab story. (Nov.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Library Journal
Henry Powell's life is one of missed opportunities and lost youth. His parents blame him for a terrible accident that occurred when he was a child, and despite several attempts to escape his small town, he is still there many years later, caring for an emotionally disturbed mother everyday after work. Instead of living his dream of going to college on a football scholarship, he finds himself working at a men's clothing store, watching his former classmates move on in the world while he marks time by the changes outside on Main Street. Henry is a person to whom nothing ever happens, and it doesn't take long before the reader realizes that nothing is ever going to happen to Henry, which unfortunately turns a sad story into a long and weary one. While we may understand Henry's lack of motivation, his sense of obligation toward his mother, and the fact that he could have done so much more with his life, it doesn't make him a very sympathetic character, only a depressing one. Not recommended.-Kellie Gillespie, City of Mesa Lib., AZ Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.

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Five-fifteen p.m. Henry pushes open the door, drops his keys on the front hall table.


He turns into the living room, shut up and dark, the curtain drawn against the brightness of the fall day. His shrunken mother is on the couch balancing a highball in one hand, a cigarette burning out in the other, in clothes that once fit properly but now swallow her up. Her thinning brown hair is flecked with gray and hanging loose from a swirl of a bun.

"David?"she asks,not yet pulling her stare from the television set.

"No, Mom. It's me," he says, "Henry."

She looks over and sees that yes, it is Henry. He can see the disappointment in her eyes, glazed over from the glow of the TV.

He takes the cigarette from her, stubs it out in the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table and makes a mental note to clean up all the drink rings and ashes.

He opens the curtains with the string pulley and when he turns back to her she is shading her eyes against the light, but then her hand drops back down to the couch.

"How are you?" he asks.

She does not answer him, but he is used to that and so has not waited for a reply.

In the kitchen he opens the refrigerator to see what he'll need to pick up at the grocery store.

Over the din of squealing contestants spinning large dials, Henry asks, "How're you feeling?"

"Are you just home from football?" she asks. "How was practice?"

"I'm home from work, Mom," he says, taking a deep breath and leaning down to scoop her up. "Remember?"

She clasps her hands behind his neck, holding on, bumping along in his arms with each step up the stairs.

Henry is gentle placing her into her bed. Moving through the room, he picks up a Ladies'Home Journal that has fallen to the floor from her nightstand, and replaces it within reach, right side up. On top of the Readers' Digest.

"How was work?" she asks, pulling the covers up.

He pauses on his way out of the master bedroom to answer her.

"You know what? It was a hard day," he says. He sighs the kind of sigh that carries a weight."Bye, Mom. I'm going out for a while but I'll be back later, okay? I'll check on you later."

She is already sleeping when he leaves. It was not always this way. 1967

"Henry, pass the baked beans, please," his mother says. She rests her cigarette in the notch of the ashtray and reaches across the picnic table toward him.

The clay container feels heavy to seven-year-old Henry and he concentrates very hard to make sure it does not tip on its way over the deviled eggs with the paprika sprinkled on top. Black flies scatter.

"Thank you," she says. She is making a point by emphasizing the please and thank you and waits with an expectation of you're welcome from Henry. He stops chewing and with split-second reasoning decides the greater offense would be to talk with his mouth full so he nods his you're welcome and hopes his mother will accept this as the best he can do under the circumstances. Did you see I did the right thing right you looked at me like it was good so maybe I did, he thinks, in one jumbled seven-year-old thought process.

"Can I be excused?" Henry's older brother, Brad, asks.

"You haven't finished your hot dog yet," she says. Henry races to finish his own, to escape into the sunny day, away from the fragments of adult conversation floating over his head: Detroit riots. Sergeant Pepper and The Downfall of The Beatles. The Smothers Brothers, which he had indeed watched with his parents one night when they let Henry and Brad stay up past their bedtime, but Henry had not really liked the show and fell asleep before it finished so all he really wanted right now was to be released from the table.

Brad crams the rest of the hot dog into his mouth and says, "Now can I?" Wonder bread bun flicks out of his mouth.

Their mother sighs at Brad and looks away so their father, Edgar Powell, says, "Yes."

Henry's father has a spot of ketchup on the front of his madras shirt, and Henry can tell this is bothering him because he keeps wiping it with his paper napkin and sighing in disgust when it refuses to disappear.

"Can I, too?" Henry asks. The dinner is cutting into the July twilight that won't hold its breath for long. So they squirm to be released because even hot dogs don't make up for lost time in summer light, a conch-shell call to the young boys.

"I swear it's impossible to keep these children in one place for more than five minutes," Henry's mother says to the two other mothers on her side of the bench, who nod sympathetically, yes, yes it is hard to keep them in line so why even try just let them go boys will be boys after all.

"Yes, you may both be excused," she says, leaning across the table so her husband can light her next cigarette with his Zippo lighter.

Henry notices she has not completely stubbed out her last cigarette. He looks up to see if this bothers her as much as it does him, and determining it does not appear to bother her in the least, he finger-stops the Coke in his straw and releases it over the smoking remains of cigarette. Gulping the last of his drink he sighs "aah" like in the commercial but is disappointed nobody notices his attempt at humor so he races off after Brad. On the way he picks up a stick because they'd agreed to play cowboys and Indians and he remembers he is supposed to be an Indian and Indians used sticks not guns to fight the cowboys so he'd better get a good one because Brad is tough competition.

"Wait up," Henry calls out.

Back at the table all are laughing at a joke one of the men makes and the women are shaking their heads at its silliness. All except Edgar Powell.

Edgar Powell is the sort of man who only says "God bless you" after the first sneeze. If multiple sneezes follow he pointedly ignores them. For Edgar Powell this is a pragmatic choice, a studied economy of words, not a malicious wish that the sneezer be condemned to damnation. He is equally frugal with his laughter.

"Boys,watch out for your brother,"their mother calls and Henry groans,watching his just barely two-year-old brother David toddle toward them,arms Frankenstein-extended.David David David,it's always take care of your brother and watch out for your brother. Brad's the oldest so he gets to do older-kid stuff, David's the baby so he gets all the attention, and then there's me, invisible me, he says to himself, kicking at a rock, waiting for Brad to shoot him like he always does.Henry's truth is that he is the one who does everything right.But this seems very little compared to David David David and Brad Brad Brad, and he wishes his parents saw the gut punches, the head locks or the Chinese water torture where Brad pins him down and lets the string of spit hang down almost to his face before sucking it back up. Then there was the time Brad made Henry eat dirt, which still humiliates him even though it happened last year. Thankfully Matt Rollins, who gave Brad the idea in the first place, moved to Baltimore not long after. At least I'm not a tattletale, he thinks.His best friend,Petey,had cautioned against tattling and had told of even worse big-brother tortures. Never ever tell on him, Petey had said in the fort they'd built in back of Henry's house.

Sometimes, though, it was easy not to tattle because Brad would unexpectedly stick up for him at school if the occasion presented itself. Or Brad would talk baseball with him—in a know-it-all way, but still. Life was good when this happened. It made it all worthwhile when, say, the Yankees won and they shouted with joy and leaped into each other's arms and punched their fists into the air with happiness.

"David's a cowboy with you," he calls out to Brad.

"No,he's not,"Brad yells,hiding somewhere out of Henry's sight.

"Yes, he is. There are more cowboys than Indians so he's on your team," he says. He turns to David, who has now reached him.

"Davey, go over there, Brad's calling you. Go over there to Brad."

"Bad?" David has not yet mastered his r"s and Henry has encouraged this coincidental nickname.

"Yeah, Bad," Henry says, gently pushing his brother toward the fringe of the park. "Go over there."

"Ha-ha," he calls out. "He's coming over."

"Yeah, well, you just got shot so you're dead," Brad says, standing up from not as far away as Henry had imagined.

Cowboys and Indians gives way to a makeshift series of sticks balanced across rocks at different heights so the boys can leap over them, taking turns being Evel Knievel. But Brad hurts his knee and starts a wrestling match that is incomplete as David repeatedly tries to take part and boys,watch out for your brother dots it and it is therefore far less satisfying than any of them had hoped. Henry's cousin, Tommy, at ten is bigger than both of them, and at one point has Brad pinned down requiring Henry to jump onto Tommy's back to peel him off.

"Get off," he says. "Get off," because brothers innately stick together against outside foes even cousin foes.

It's two against one. The Powell boys against cousin Tommy carries on until that, too, is exhausted. They scatter then and Henry wanders off into the wood to see what's what. Let Brad watch David for once how come he always gets out of it anyway,Henry thinks. It's such a gyp.

It is two or three yards into the thick, cool shade of trees when Henry happens on two birds. It's clear they are fighting and he stops to watch.They are well matched—the same breed,the same size.It does not occur to Henry that he has the power to put a stop to this. To intervene. To interrupt the natural course of events. He is frozen and spellbound. He finds it strange how silent they are, the pecking brutal, the feathers—the long ones on top—start peeling off. The bird on the bottom, the one being nailed over and over again by the beak, struggles slightly but Henry sees it is resigned. Horrified, Henry watches the weak one give in. The downy smaller feathers underneath floating in the air like dandelion fluff.The beak pecking pecking pecking red with blood.Henry is surprised at the brightness of the color,so much like his mother's lipstick or like the fake Dracula blood he had smeared on either side of his mouth last Halloween.

The dying bird finally manages a mournful squawk. "Stop," he says out loud, finding his voice. "Stop it," he shouts, running forward, waving his arms. "Stop."

The bloody beak rises and the bird flaps off. Henry's spindly legs walk to the mess on the pine needles. He squats down next to the bird on its side, a beady eye finds his, locks and then shuts.

"It's okay," he whispers. "It's okay now." He is trying to soothe the bird but is sick at his stomach seeing he is too late.

Not so far away the stronger bird waits to finish what he had started.

"Go," Henry yells. Tears in his eyes he rushes at the bird. "Go away. Go."

He returns to the bird on the ground and kneels. This is the closest he has ever been to a bird.He reaches out,and with his index finger, he strokes the top of the bird's head. The only part that is not bloody. It is membrane-soft, smooth and still warm and Henry finds it the saddest thing he has ever ever seen in the whole wide universe.

There is no time to bury it; Brad will be looking for him, Henry thinks. Or Tommy. Or maybe his mother. If he is gone too long. And it feels like he's been gone too long.

"Sorry," he whispers. "Sorry, bird." On his haunches he allows the tears to fall.

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Meet the Author

Elizabeth Flock is a former journalist who reported for Time and People magazines and worked as an on-air correspondent for CBS before becoming a full-time writer. The New York Times bestselling author of But Inside I’m Screaming, Everything Must Go and Me & Emma—a Book Sense Notable Title and Highlight Pick of the Year—lives in New York City. You can contact Elizabeth through her Web site at www.ElizabethFlock.com.

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Everything Must Go 3.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 11 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
eak321 More than 1 year ago
I purchased EVERYTHING MUST GO awhile ago and finally picked it off my bookshelves to read it. I couldn't remember why I originally purchased it, because it started out pretty darn boring. It was filled with insignificant details and descriptions that weren't going anywhere. In fact, for several chapters at the beginning of EVERYTHING MUST GO, I really didn't like it. First, there seemed to be a lot of grammar mistakes (at least for a published novel), or maybe it was just very poor editing. At any rate, I expect published books to have gone through the scrutiny of many editors and proofreaders, and apparently, this one didn't. Furthermore, the book seemed to be a bit disjointed. The scenes flashed back and forth in time without much rhyme or reason. And then there was the overuse of heavy descriptions of the most mundane events and circumstances. With all that said, I ended up enjoying EVERYTHING MUST GO. Why, you ask? Because I began to realize that the novel was purposely written with description overload about mundane circumstances because, Henry, the main character, has nothing going on in his life. He's barely living, so everything to him -- even the tiniest detail -- is all he really thinks about. Mr. and Mrs. Powell lived in Smalltown, USA. They had three sons: Brad (the oldest), Henry (the middle child), and David (the baby). Brad was rebellious and belligerent. He picked on Henry, who became a football star in school. David died when he was young due to an accident involving Henry. Ever since then, Henry has been looked down upon by his parents, who begin their slow descent into an existence of just going through the motions. Henry eventually "gets out" and goes to college on a football scholarship, only to see it abruptly end when he's called upon by his father to return home to take care of his mentally ill, alcohol and prescription painkiller-addicted mother. He does so only out of guilt, always blaming himself for David's death because that's how his parents made him feel. Brad, on the other hand, escapes and is never heard from again. Now, instead of being a big football star and leading a "normal" life, Henry is stuck working at a clothing store in his hometown, rushing home to take care of his mother (carry her up to her bed in her drunken stupor every day at 5:15 p.m.), even though his father is there and does nothing. It's all part of the guilt. Many years pass, and day in and day out is the same for Henry. He begins to accept this as the norm and can't imagine straying. The store where he works has a big sale every year (the biggest annual event in his life), and he gets to catch up with former classmates who happen to return for visits to their hometown. They know they can always find Henry at the store. He's become a fixture, like so many outdated, unsold clothing. I liked Henry, but I felt sorry for him. I also became a bit angry with him for not making more of himself than having his life dictated by parents who didn't care a whit about him. I wasn't disappointed in the ending. It was fitting...for Henry and his barely existent life. Unfortunately, the novel leaves a lot of questions unanswered, but I won't reveal them here, lest I spoil the novel for others. I just wish the author had let us readers on a few more -- dare I say it? -- details.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
mrsmarymac More than 1 year ago
I thought this one was quite uneventful. I kept wanting it to get better but it never did.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Rie More than 1 year ago
This book was so boring I couldn't even finish it. Don't waste your time. Her other books were much better. I loved Me and Emma.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book was a bit boring because she wrote the life of an average guy-- nothing really exciting happened. One thing I admired from this book was her detail and perfect descriptions of what most of us would do in situations. For my taste, it was a bit too boring for a book but I think it would make a great movie.
harstan More than 1 year ago
In the late 1970s, Henry Powell¿s future looked bright. He had a great high school senior year playing football earning him a college scholarship that will enable him to leave the dying New England town Baxter. However, dreams die as Henry knows first hand. He went off to college only to have to come home due to a family emergency, while his older brother Brad skipped town without a look back.-------------- Fourteen years later, Henry works at the same men's clothing store he worked in when he was in high school. He has no future feeling humiliated whenever someone from his glory days enters the shop. His only escape from nothings is fantasy where he pretends he is a rock star or being interviewed by a renowned biographical author for a book starring him. Now Henry¿s only means of income the store will shut down on September 10, 2001. How will Henry react is anyone¿s guess as EVERYTHING MUST GO especially the employees.------------------- Elizabeth Flock is gaining a reputation for deep psychological character studies (see ME & EMMA) that shake up a reader¿s comfort zone. Her latest tale EVERYTHING MUST GO is not an easy read as the audience, through perhaps too many flashbacks, learns how much Henry has lost by being responsible towards his family. This book is not for everyone as this for the most part is a depressing yet realistic personal saga even with a future that looks brighter than the immediate past (at least since he dropped out of college) still readers who appreciate a deep dark look at a man just surviving not living will want to peruse Henry's disheartening bio.---------- Harriet Klausner
Guest More than 1 year ago
This has got to be one of the most frustrating, pointless and depressing books I have read in a long time. I really felt betrayed that I invested my time to read this book and there was no payoff. Henry our 'Hero' is just a sad, pathetic, individual. He could have made a great life for himself but he let himself be controlled by his overbearing parents. I also thought the connection Ms Flock tried to make to 9-11 was a cheap trick that did nothing to improve what little bit of story there was.