Guerin’s narrative switches between the past and the present as his protagonist, Walker, attempts to reconcile his memory of his summer job when he was nineteen, and how far his father was involved in the disappearance of a Mexican family.
In the beginning, the pace immediately transports you to Walker’s summer job at AMC, a car manufacturing plant. Walker’s first days and subsequent stand-offs fill you with trepidation as Walker’s presence at AMC for the summer seems far more dangerous for him than beneficial. All of which is intermixed with silent snapshots of a middle-aged Walker beside his father’s hospital bed.
Although the pace begins to slow upon Walker meeting Connie, and the time line becomes less linear and how much time has passed is unclear, the desire to uncover the truth behind the family’s disappearance never wanes. Nor does the predictable plot twist matter. This is due to Guerin treating this revelation with a tone of acceptance rather than forgiveness.
Walker does not forget or forgive his father’s past actions but he approaches them with empathy; with the will to move on and let go.
Thus, You Can See More From Up Here actually felt like a coming-of-age story – Walker learns plenty about himself as well as his father – and despite this ‘coming-of-age’ arriving twenty years too late, Guerin’s description of Walker’s drive in the Cadillac is enough to reassure you the past has finally been left where it belongs.