On Arctic Ground: Tracking Time Through Alaska’s National Petroleum Reserve by Debbie S. Miller

Posted on November 29, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A call for the preservation of Alaska’s natural heritage, with exquisite photos.

At 23 million acres, Alaska’s National Petroleum Reserve is the largest single unit of public lands in the United States, none of it permanently protected. Rich in oil, gas and coal, it is also home to an astounding diversity of plants and animals, many endangered and threatened; the migratory birds of six continents begin their lives in the Reserve. Debbie S. Miller’s On Arctic Ground is a striking plea for the conservation of this irreplaceable natural space.

Although it can be read cover to cover, the best way to enjoy this book is to take its short chapters one by one. Each provides mind-boggling details–like the bar-tailed godwit’s nonstop, 7,000-mile migration from western Alaska to New Zealand–and makes the starkly moving point that this incomparable area is highly vulnerable. Breathtaking full-page pictures throughout offer stunning portrayals of the Reserve’s strange and spectacular life forms.

This review originally ran in the Nov. 23, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 8 caribou.

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Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith (audio)

Posted on November 28, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is an alternative history with fantasy/paranormal elements thrown in. It reexamines Abraham Lincoln’s life, his presidency, and the American Civil War, with a twist: the US is overrun with vampires, mostly unknown to the public, who are secretly pulling the strings that shape Abe’s life, the institution of slavery, and war. The book opens with a charming sequence in which a would-be novelist in a small town on the Hudson Valley meets a new resident and gets a book idea from him. The foreboding sense in the idyllic setting reminded me of Stephen King, which is a compliment.

It is a rather fascinating concept. I had my doubts at first – again, the whole vampires-in-pop-fiction trend gave me pause; it’s not a trend I have bought into in the past. But as soon as I began the book, I was drawn in. So full points for intriguing me early on. I loved the parts about Abe’s early life; the atmosphere, the mood of tension, of Abe’s efforts against long odds, his determination in the face of tragedy, are all well executed.

But I think the middle section of the book dragged on far too long; it’s a great concept that Grahame-Smith indulged in for too many pages. All of which is to say, it probably made a great movie! That may be the proper format.

Another concern: I had some misgivings about the use of vampires to explain some of the evils in our national history. Slavery, secession, civil war, all belong to vampires in this book (with a quick mention of WWII’s genocide apparently coming from the same source). While Grahame-Smith struck me as careful to always treat these heavy topics with due sobriety, it still makes me a little uneasy to play with them in this way. Slavery and civil war are unsettling, terrifying, gruesome, disturbing enough in fact; it rather feels like diminishing their somber import to make them the fictional playthings of entertainment in this way, no matter how carefully treated. And again, the tone of this book is serious and in always respectful. But I’m just not entirely sure. It gives me pause.

Late in the book, I really missed our narrator of the beginning section: the writer, that is, who is approached by the mysterious stranger and given the lost diaries of Abraham Lincoln. The quick sketch of small-town life and the birth of this novel was a definite strength, and I regret that we never returned to that early narrator at the end of the book. I was looking forward to revisiting him.

So I have my criticisms, as you can see; but I really did enjoy this audiobook, and never considered putting it down. I think Grahame-Smith could have executed his rather genius story concept in less space: my audio ran to 9 CDs, and he could have kept it under 6, in my opinion. But again, this only makes me more interested in the movie version. Apparently the screenplay is written by Grahame-Smith as well, which is a good sign; and hopefully that format will push for a little more condensed action, which the book could have used as well. Call this a rare case where I am excited for the movie after reading the book.

The audio narration by Scott Holst was good. He emphasizes mood as a narrator should; he varied the voices of his characters a little, was not overly theatrical, but lent atmosphere where it belonged.

As always when I read historical fiction, I found myself contemplating the line where fact meets fiction. In this case, I’m sad to say (and it’s far too often that I’m sad to say this!) I don’t know the subject well enough to judge for myself; but here are a few notes of interest. At the end of my audiobook is a short interview with the author, in which I learned: first, that he was in fact quite purposefully following the aforementioned trend of vampires in pop fiction; and secondly, that he had great respect for his subject and did a fair amount of research. Now, this is a subjective measure (and he’s judging himself, which makes the judgment even more subjective), but I still find it encouraging. Finally, he mentioned a particular source of nonfiction inspiration: Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals, which I have in my iPod just waiting my attentions. And that was the most encouraging detail of all. 🙂

Rating: 6 fangs.

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Boule de Suif by Guy de Maupassant

Posted on November 26, 2012 by pagesofjulia

I found a few unaccounted-for minutes the other night, and picked up a short read I’d been meaning to get to: the short stories of Guy de Maupassant. [Recommended by Hemingway.]

This review contains spoilers.

Set in the Franco-Prussian war, this story sees a group of ten citizens of Rouen fleeing Prussian occupation in a stagecoach for Le Havre. They are a mixed group representing a neat cross-section of French society: a merchant couple; a bourgeoisie couple; a count & countess; a Democratic revolutionary; a courtesan; and two nuns. They settle into polite chatting in the stagecoach along social lines, with all turning their noses up at the courtesan. But as the journey goes longer than expected and they are unable to find an inn to serve them lunch or dinner, the courtesan produces a large basket filled with delicacies, and everyone thaws. They make nice with her, and eat her food. The title Boule de Suif is generally translated as “Dumpling” or “Butterball” or the like (I believe, more literally, it is “ball of fat”) and refers to the courtesan:

Short and round, fat as a pig, with puffy fingers constricted at the joints, looking like rows of shorts sausages; with a shiny, tightly-stretched skin and an enormous bust filling out the bodice of her dress, she was yet attractive and much sought after, owing to her fresh and pleasing appearance.

But upon arrival at their overnight lodging, they are held up: the Prussian soldier in charge forbids they continue on their journey until the courtesan will provide her services to him. She refuses, being a patriotic and proud Frenchwoman. And the group seethes: their travels are being held up and, as they point out, this is her business anyway, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t a whore be a whore with a Prussian as well as any other man? They wheedle, exhort, and command – even the nuns – until she is broken down and does the deed and they continue on their way. In the final scene, the socially elevated ladies turn their shoulder away from her again. And everyone has remembered to pack a lunch except Boule de Suif, and no one offers to share with her.

This is a masterfully executed short story, and I can see why Hemingway admired it. The human element is heartbreaking. It is painful to see the defeat of Boule de Suif’s pride and principles; it is maddening to see the disgraceful behavior of the socially superior characters. It is also a neatly devised statement on social class: the merchant and bourgeoisie couples are greedy and grabbing, clearly willing to place their allegiance with whomever will leave them to their profits; the count and countess are weak and craven; the nuns are unchristian in their failure to share food with a hungry courtesan; and the revolutionary is a lecherous drunk. The courtesan is the most patriotic, brave, and principled of the group.

The writing style is enjoyable, too, and again I can see where Hemingway was influenced. Just look at this first sentence:

For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed through the town.

and tell me you don’t see Hemingway there. The meter or rhythm alone reminds me of him; obviously the subject matter as well.

I am rusty in my close-reading skills. I recall a poem I read in high school, for English class, that we picked apart line by line and word by word, finding three and four layers of meaning therein. It was The Black Lace Fan by Eavan Boland, and I really enjoyed the lesson. I think this short story would bear the same sort of close scrutiny. Or, it can be enjoyed as a quick read.

Highly recommended, and I hope I find time for the rest of the stories in this volume soon.

Rating: 9 pretenses.

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The Man Called Cash: The Life, Love, and Faith of an American Legend by Steve Turner (audio)

Posted on November 19, 2012 by pagesofjulia

How could a biography of Johnny Cash not be extraordinary? (Well, the question of whether we seek out biographies of interesting people, versus interesting biographies of any old people, is another blog post.) I was excited to start this one. But warning, folks: it hits hard, and early. The first chapter is about the death of June Carter Cash after 35 years of marriage to the Man in Black, and I cried.

Johnny Cash is truly larger-than-life, as a celebrity and a public figure as well as in his music career. I’m a fan, but not a scholar of Cash’s life: prior to this book, what I knew of him was general cultural knowledge, or gleaned from his songs and the movie Walk the Line (which I enjoyed). So now I know a great deal more.

He was born in Arkansas and grew up in a town called Dyess (which Cash jokingly refers to as a socialist experiment – it was designed under FDR’s New Deal) in the midst of the Great Depression, and after high school, joined the Air Force and served in Germany; he returned to the South to marry a girl named Vivian whom he had met just weeks before shipping out. Cash and Vivian would have four daughters.

His music career came about in an interesting way. Cash had always been passionate about music, from childhood; his mother shared and inspired this love. He was not particularly gifted as a singer, and he was a mediocre guitar player who mostly learned from his Air Force buddies; but his songwriting did impress his peers from the beginning. Back in the southern US, he teamed up with a few coworkers of his brother’s, and formed Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Two, recorded his first single apparently on the strength of will alone, and… things took off from there. Names like Carl Perkins, Sam Phillips, and Elvis Presley figure in the early years of his career.

The shape of his musical career surprised me the most in the story of Cash’s life. He was always an innovator: he played an integral role in the birth of rock-n-roll; he blended styles and approached subject matter previously deemed inappropriate; and even in the final years before his death broke new ground. But I never realized how sort of unguided and hesitant those innovations were. He needed musicians, producers, and sound engineers around him to help shape his creativity. I say none of this to take away from the genius of Johnny Cash: he was unique, and his art remains unparalleled. I just hadn’t realized that he didn’t do what he did in a vacuum, that he had no great image or plan for his work, that he didn’t see the bigger picture himself. He needed help for that.

On tour in the 1960’s, Cash became close to fellow musical artist June Carter; they carried on an affair until Cash’s divorce from Vivian. During the same period, he struggled with methamphetamine addiction, and June wouldn’t marry him until he was clean, which turned out to be 1968. The drug use came and went for many years, but his marriage to June was steady. They had one child together, John Carter Cash.

I enjoyed learning about Johnny Cash. As it turned out, for me, this book’s greatest strength was its subject: rather than being an excellent biography, it detailed an excellent life. One minor gripe I have is in its handling of Cash’s religious life. Now, let it be said, Christianity played a huge role in Cash’s life: he was devout as a young man; struggled with his faith during the years of drug abuse and adultery; found a stronger religious foundation in his years of happy marriage to June; made a great deal of religious music and spoke publicly of his faith; and in many ways led a truly Christian life in terms of charity, compassion, and standing up for the disadvantaged. Handling Cash’s religious life is obligatory in any biography of the man. However, this biography approaches it from a certain perspective: it takes for granted that Christianity is good, and any strayings from the church are bad. See mentions of Billy Graham as an absolutely virtuous figure; praise of June Carter Cash for her total devotion to her husband (with religious references); and straightforward use of “light” and “dark” or “good times and bad” in reference to Cash’s more and less religious periods.

Author Steve Turner never takes on a voice of his own in his book; and I think that, if he were going to take a religious position as he has, that he should have spoken to that in his own voice. Does that make sense? To write as a Christian is not to write from a journalistically neutral place. The fact is that not all Turner’s readers are Christians; and he has done them a disservice in failing to zoom out to a neutral position from which to view his subject. I feel it would have been more honest to acknowledge a personal perspective.

The Christian leaning did not ruin this book for me; but I noticed it. And in noticing it, I was distracted from the fascinating story Turner had to tell. I guess I should have taken warning from the subtitle of the book: The Man Called Cash: The Life, Love, and Faith of an American Legend. Ah well. Silly me: I thought faith could be covered from a faith-neutral perspective. My final judgment on this question is that if you’re seeking a neutral and non-faith-based reading of Johnny Cash’s life, you should seek elsewhere. There are far too many biographies of this enormous figure to settle for one with such a bias.

Similarly, Turner’s perspective assumes that Cash was basically a good man. His mistakes, his “sins” if you will, his lapses, are all forgiven in advance. Turner turns a fundamentally uncritical eye on his subject. This bothered me far less than the Christian angle; in fact I noticed it far less, for the vital fact that I am a Cash fan who was sympathetic to the assumption that he was a force of good. But that doesn’t make it any less an error of journalistic neutrality. Again, there are different ways to skin this horse. Christians may appreciate this reading; fans may appreciate this reading. Those seeking a neutral and critical examination of Cash’s life should seek elsewhere. The Man Called Cash is a fan’s biography.

How about the narration? Rex Linn reads this book for us, and his deep voice and southern vowel sounds evoke Cash, which is pleasant. But he doesn’t do different voices for different characters at all; and some of the pauses between phrases are disjointed. I got the feeling that there may be some sloppy audio-editing involved. It was fine, but not the finest audio narration I’ve encountered, by a long shot.

I have made three criticisms here: two on the biased perspective of the author as a Christian and as a fan of Cash, and one on the audio reading. I feel these are worth noting. But I still enjoyed the book, again, mainly for the strength of Cash’s life. I recommend it with qualifications. If the issues I’ve outlined here bother you, by all means look for another Cash biographer as there are plenty! But this one does the job, too.

I’ll end with a strength. As I said, the book opens with the death of June Carter Cash in 2003. Her final weeks and those following her death are detailed finely; we get to know the Cash family as affected by losing its matriarch, and it is a beautiful and thorough and moving introduction. Its emotional impact opens the story forcefully. From here, we rewind to Cash’s origins, and then follow his life chronologically; when we come back to June’s death again, we can pass over it more quickly, having studied it earlier, and focus more on its impact on Cash himself. I found this structure very effective and powerful, and I am impressed by Turner’s planning in this regard.

Final verdict: obviously mixed. Draw your own conclusions.

Rating: 5 hit singles.

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Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin

Posted on November 14, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Notes of a Native Son is a 1955 collection of James Baldwin’s essays and articles, all previously published elsewhere as I understand it. Their subjects range over books, movies, personal history, and social commentary; what each piece has in common is a consideration of race relations in the United States. He is concerned with the American “Negro” (this is no longer considered the right word, but I’m tempted to use it here, because he did) and the relationships amongst Americans, white and black. A persistent question he ponders is that of the black man’s search for identity in a nation that variously rejects him, resents him, or feels guilt over its treatment of him, made more difficult by the loss of his own personal history pre-slavery.

There are some heavy bits here, unsurprisingly. While not exactly academic, some of it is definitely on the philosophic side of things. When Baldwin dives deeply into literary criticism, he loses me (I guess I’m rusty on literary criticism; I used to find such articles much easier to read!): “Everybody’s Protest Novel” and “Many Thousands Gone” nearly made me quit the collection. In “Carmen Jones: The Dark Is Light Enough,” he discusses a movie, and actors, so unfamiliar to me that I was only reading on the surface – where I rather enjoyed the essay, it is true, but where I certainly failed to understand fully what he had to say. On the other hand, “The Harlem Ghetto” struck me as intelligent, occasionally amusing, and relevant today. And as you know, I am always thrilled to make connections across seemingly unrelated books I’ve read or historical figures I’ve studied. Before I was halfway through this book, I’d seen mention of Lillian Hellman (see a recent biography, one of my favorite books of the year) and the Patterson family (another), not to mention of course threads that take me back to The Warmth of Other Suns, which is how I got to this book in the first place. Ah, the circularity of things: it amazes and thrills me.

My favorite pieces in this collection were the autobiographical ones. I like Baldwin’s voice very much: he is wry and funny even when discussing the serious and the tragic. And I was most interested in learning more about him. My edition begins with a “Preface to the 1984 Edition” followed by “Autobiographical Notes,” both of which set the bar high. The titular essay comes about midway through and is also excellent. But my very favorites were the last two. “Equal in Paris” relates Baldwin’s experience being arrested in Paris and tried for possessing a bedsheet from the wrong hotel. It was hilarious, and ended chillingly. And “Stranger in the Village” covers his time spent in a tiny Swiss village where the residents had never seen a black man before, and is where I felt he made his most sweeping and hopeful statements about our present and our future. It was tragic, but forward-looking.

I really enjoyed Notes of a Native Son, although there were a few moments where I got bogged down. Baldwin’s voice charmed me. I recommend him.

Rating: 7 blocks in Harlem.

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The Shining by Stephen King (audio)

Posted on November 7, 2012 by pagesofjulia

Another masterpiece by Stephen King! Probably my favorite yet. Spellbinding.

I suspect the storyline of The Shining is familiar to us all, so I will sketch it very briefly. Jack Torrance is a recovering alcoholic; his family has been made unstable, financially and otherwise, by his drinking. He takes a job at the Overlook Hotel in the Colorado mountains as winter caretaker, which involves moving his wife Wendy and son Danny in for some 6 months, for most of which they will be snowbound and cut off from the world. Danny has a unique gift for seeing things: the past, the future, dead people. The Overlook has a uniquely grotesque history.

The Shining is a masterful book in several ways. Perhaps the most obvious is the atmosphere: King’s pacing, building of tension as the story unfolds, and foreshadowing, are precisely designed to spook his reader. Danny’s gift – his “shine” – provides the perfect vehicle for this foreshadowing. The character development is finely done as well. Jack is a conflicted character; he loves his wife and son and wants to do well by them, but he battles inner demons, particularly alcoholism, and this internal conflict is well done. He feels like a real person. Wendy, too, struggles with what’s right for her family; she has considered leaving Jack before and continues to deliberate. And Danny is a sweet child, not inappropriately aged (the way gifted children sometimes are in fiction) – at least not to my limited childless knowledge. He can see more than he can understand.

The hotel has a will of its own and is a character unto itself. Place, or building, as willful force of evil is a device we’ve encountered before, Rebecca being one of the best examples. The Overlook is another. I love how Jack’s research into the hotel’s history seems to feed its power to harass him. I love that the Overlook preys on Jack’s weaknesses. It is truly, deeply creepy in the most delicious way.

And while we’re discussing characters – how about my very favorite, the hotel’s summertime cook, Dick Hallorann? Hallorann befriends Danny, shares his strange gift (although it shines more strongly in Danny), puts the name “the shining” to it for him, and comes to the family’s aid late in the book. Dick is a lovely, colorful character, full of personality and, again, very human conflicts. I like him very much.

The Overlook Hotel’s evil finds an outlet through Jack Torrance. His struggle with alcoholism and growing cabin fever make him a good target; but it remains clear that Jack is an essentially good man. Even in the worst of times, he experiences some personal growth. Wendy, too, learns about her son and their relationship is left looking stronger than ever as the story comes to a close.

I found this book exciting; suspenseful; rich; engaging; filled with people I cared about. Oh, and the audio! Campbell Scott’s narration is divine. I loved his voices for all the characters, and he contributed significantly to the atmosphere which is probably The Shining‘s finest quality. If you haven’t enjoyed this book yet, I strongly recommend that you get the audio book read by Campbell Scott if at all possible! This has been one of my most enjoyable audio reads this year to date.

Rating: 8 roque mallets.

Movie review to come. Briefly: not as good as the book (who’s surprised?), and really only vaguely related to it. EDIT: movie review here.

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Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Posted on November 5, 2012 by pagesofjulia

my charming little copy of Walden


I have been thinking this review over carefully. Walden is an “important” book. I had some troubles with it, particularly about midway through, when I stalled for several days and was sure I was going to give up. This was while visiting Concord and Walden Pond, no less! I think I owe my father credit: he recommended that I just read it through, with less attention to note-taking and interpretation at every page along the way. And on my long travel day home, I got back into it.

What is it that made this book a little difficult for me? Well, the language is somewhat dated, and the sentences tend to be long and rambling. Picture several long clauses strung together, and then having to look back up half a page to see what the subject was that this verb, finally, is acting upon. That will slow a person down. And the subject matter, the thoughts being communicated, are often quite dense. When Thoreau writes descriptions of his natural surroundings, I can settle into the imagery and the poetry, and float along pleasantly. But when he philosophizes, I am often in trouble. Large ideas are presented here, regarding our relationship with the natural world, politics, and religion. Thoreau jumps around between these subjects. Perhaps this begins to help you understand my trouble.

The first chapter, “Economy,” is lengthy. In my edition it occupies 80 pages, of 350. And no later chapter runs longer than 20 pages. I enjoyed “Economy”: I sympathize with the points Thoreau makes therein. But maybe I was wearied by it. It wasn’t until 200+ pages that I stalled badly. And once I got back into it, I enjoyed it again. I can’t entirely explain that pattern, and I’m sure yours was/will be different. I think the biggest help I got was visiting Walden Pond. This is obvious, no? When my mother and I toured The Wayside, our park ranger/tour guide quoted Nathaniel Hawthorne (and I wish I could find the quotation) on visiting authors’ homes. The gist was that visiting the home of an author is the best way to better understand his or her work, and my (limited) experience visiting authors’ homes certainly backs this up. In this way, walking around Walden Pond enriched my appreciation of Walden and renewed my interest in it.

Walden is a memoir; a political tract; a geographical study; a fine piece of nature writing; and a poetic rambling by a unique sort of Renaissance man. I found it rather effortful reading, but worth it in the end. For those who enjoy thought-provoking, challenging, lyrical writings (and longish sentences), it should be a big hit. For those who find these characteristics a little daunting, but are interested in the legacy of Henry David Thoreau, I recommend giving it a go just the same. I’m glad I did. And go see the place in question if you can, too!

Rating: 6 fallen leaves.

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The Longest Race: A Lifelong Runner, an Iconic Ultramarathon, and the Case for Human Endurance by Ed Ayres

Posted on November 1, 2012 by pagesofjulia

An ultramarathon, run by a master of the sport, becomes a metaphor for the race for human sustainability we are all running.

Ed Ayres has been running competitively for more than half a century. On a professional basis, he’s also studied climate change, sustainability and a variety of issues facing the future of the human race and our planet. The Longest Race is the story of his 2001 run at the JFK 50 Mile, the United States’ oldest ultramarathon. As Ayres attempts, at age 60, to set a new age-group course record, he contemplates the relationship of human endurance to the sustainability of human life in a fast-changing world.

Ayres’s recollections a decade later are heavy on metaphor. The ultramarathon is a symbol not just for his life, but for any man or woman’s life, and ultimately for the lifespan of humanity. The attributes that work toward sustainability at an individual level are equally valuable in a large society, Ayres says, and today’s “sprint culture” would do well to reconsider the concept of pacing. He also touches on the atom bomb, human evolution, the U.S. crisis in physical fitness and the reasons for following a vegetarian diet. But for all its peripatetic allegory, The Longest Race is always the story of one epic 50-mile race in all its technical and visceral elements, and also a celebration of the sport of running and of our ability to keep running in changing times. For those readers inspired by his story, the appendix offers practical advice to the aspiring ultrarunner.

This review originally ran in the October 19, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 8 miles to go.

EDIT: See also my father’s glowing review of same.

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Master of the Mountain by Henry Wiencek

Posted on October 31, 2012 by pagesofjulia

The sad but enlightening story of Thomas Jefferson, a dedicated slaveowner masquerading as an emancipationist. Henry Wiencek studied George Washington’s convoluted relationship to slavery in An Imperfect God; with Master of the Mountain, he turns his attention to Thomas Jefferson. As one would expect, Sally Hemings is a crucial part of the story, but Wiencek also meticulously records the experiences of many others among the more than 600 slaves Jefferson owned in his life, offering a detailed portrait of daily life at Monticello.

After speaking out eloquently about the need for emancipation early in his life, Jefferson not only let pass several opportunities to push for abolition but worked to maintain the existence of slavery, noting the profits to be had–even though in public writings and correspondence with anti-slavery activists, Jefferson continued to claim a devotion to human rights and disgust with the “peculiar institution.” Wiencek appears briefly to consider the forgiving popular characterization of Jefferson’s relationship with slavery as “compartmentalized” or “complex.” But as Jefferson devolves from a youthful, idealistic opponent to a staunch defender of slavery, Wiencek firmly condemns Jefferson’s pretense of virtue, put to the lie by the abuses at Monticello. Master of the Mountain is well-documented and detailed without being tedious. The stories of real people come alive, making Jefferson’s wrongs all the more painful and his hypocrisy the more outrageous. The final chapter calls this founding father to account in no uncertain terms.

This review originally ran in the October 26, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 6 advantages taken.

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Mad River by John Sandford

Posted on October 18, 2012 by pagesofjulia

A series of bloody murders in Minnesota’s farm country, and the supremely likable detective who will stop them.


John Sandford’s Mad River stars Virgil Flowers, a supporting character in Sandford’s Prey novels who graduated to his own series with 2007’s Dark of the Moon. This sixth installment stands capably alone; series readers will recognize certain characters, but the plot twists and building suspense require no backstory.

Flowers is an investigator for the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension called out to the tiny farm town of Shinder to investigate a string of brutal murders, starting with a highway patrol officer. The spree is quickly connected to a trio of local youths, and as the tension mounts and the murders spread across the state, the challenge is to catch the killers before the vengeful local cops get to them. Flowers suspects there’s a connection to something even bigger and needs the killers taken alive.

The central plot is riveting, but strained relations within the law enforcement community, Flowers’s visits with his loving parents and his dalliance with an old flame provide further drama. The story’s travels around the state add local color: expanses of empty farm land make the killers nearly impossible to track. Perhaps the greatest strength of Mad River, though, lies in Flowers himself. It’s hard to think of a more balanced and genial investigative hero, yet he’s still able to keep cops and bad guys alike in line. The bulk of the mystery is revealed fairly early on, though the killers’ motivations and dynamic remain riveting until the final pages–and the ultimate question persists to the tantalizing end.

This review originally ran in the Oct. 12, 2012 issue of Shelf Awareness for Readers. To subscribe, click here, and you’ll receive two issues per week of book reviews and other bookish fun!

Rating: 6 small town cops.

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