Perfect for book discussion

Montana 1948 by Larry Watson

3 words: riveting, quietly dramatic, haunting

 

There’s a reason this book, first published in 1993, is still flying off the shelves today. Actually, there are lots of reasons.

I’m pretty sure we can consider it a modern classic.

Here’s why…

First, this story is sadly timeless. A doctor from an influential family has been molesting Native American women, and it’s only when he commits murder to cover it up, that his brother–the sheriff–discovers this horrific misconduct. In these days of #MeToo, this novel’s narrative is timely in a way that just hurts. But Watson’s treatment of the subject is sensitive and honest. For a book group, this is one remarkable book to discuss, because while there’s a villain, there are no true heroes. It’s complex and messy and sadly real to life.

Second, Watson’s writing style perfectly fits the story. It’s clear from the length of the book (fewer than 200 pages) and the power of the prose that he’s also a poet. Every word is carefully placed, which a reader only realizes upon reflecting later–because while you’re reading this book, you’re gonna be turning the pages fast. Watson pulls you right into the story from the start and makes you care about the characters.

David, the narrator, is a preteen boy at the time of the story’s events. But he’s telling the story from the perspective of his adult years, which adds some nice complexity to the narrative.

If you’re looking for a great book discussion book, or a fast-moving work of literary fiction, or a modern Western, or just a remarkable book to fall into… this one’s a winner.

Give this book a whirl if you like… an adult perspective reflecting on a traumatic event witnessed as a child, succinct and powerful writing, coming of age stories, #MeToo, Native Americans, modern Westerns

 

What’s the best book you’ve discussed with someone recently?

 

Against type

(photo credit: Library of Congress)
Spirit of Steamboat by Craig Johnson
Recently I broke a
solemn vow I’d made to myself.
You know those
horrid little Christmas-season books—usually novellas—that are published by
bestselling authors of series?
I detest those
things.
They’re a
combination of grotesque commercialism and sentimental tripe, and I can’t
stomach them.
Well, after
swearing I’d never read one, guess what?
Craig Johnson wrote
one of those things. 

And I read it

And, damn it, I liked it. 
But that’s only
because of Craig Johnson. This is not going to become a habit, this reading of
the Christmas-themed mini-books.
And I have to
acknowledge that even though nearly this entire book took place on a B-25
Mitchell, I still found the plot a bit thin. It was basically an adventure
story. Now I have no quarrel with that, but it didn’t result in quite the usual
Craig Johnson bliss attack I usually experience.
So the story is
that when Walt Longmire was a brand new sheriff, he needed to get a little girl
flown to the hospital in Denver
after a car accident. And the weather was ghastly and the only plane that
possibly could make the flight was this old warbird. And Lucian Connally, the
crusty old feller who was sheriff before him, had been a Doolittle Raider, so
the dude could handle that kind of aircraft. And off they go.
So there’s lots of
stuff to like there: Walt, Lucian, an airplane. And a female pilot in the right
seat. A happy (of course—it’s a Christmas book, for the love of Mike) ending. And
I liked it just fine.
Crow: eaten.*
*tasted like chicken

Listening to a Western on the tollway

(photo credit: photo by Theodor Horydczak;
repository: Library of Congress)
Robert B. Parker’s Ironhorse by Robert Knott
Recently I was
talking with a dear man who is a serious reader of Westerns. Especially to a lightweight
like me, he’s the real deal. And he recommended this book, so I listened.
And then I listened. To the audiobook. Which
actually required some hardcore listening, because the voice of the narrator (Titus Welliver) is
rather low and subdued (a perfect voice for a Western), which I had to strain a
bit to hear. I had the volume cranked (which created quite the effect when I
flipped back to the radio. Hello, blaring banjo of Mumford & Sons!)    
When the Western
reader described the book, he said it takes place on a train. So I got all
wiggly and excited because I love me the train books. (Just thinking about Murder on the Orient Express and The Edge [Dick Francis]) makes me
happy.)
Ironhorse is part of a series begun by Parker, and now continued by
Knott (since the world lost Parker back in 2010; that was a sad day for an
awfully lot of mystery and Western readers).
The series features
Virgil Cole and Everett Hitch, two Territorial Marshalls back in the day. (Side
note: I believe the name “Virgil” is only found in Westerns. It makes me want
to get a turtle* and name him that.)
So this book has
everything a reader could want: tons of action (I couldn’t believe how much
happened in the first few chapters); strong, stoic good guys; nasty criminal
types for them to outwit and outgun; and a dry-witted narrator (that would be Everett).
And the author has
a nice way of phrasing. This line, uttered by a drunk dentist during a
middle-of-the-night interrogation by the marshalls,
made me laugh out loud: “They were kind of like the two of you, rather
obnoxious and demanding.”
A completely
satisfying story.

nephew-turtle clumping earnestly across the floor

*The turtle wish is
due to my completely surprising level of fondness for my sister’s family’s
turtle. If you don’t already have a nephew-turtle, I can highly recommend it. 

I dropped everything and read

A Serpent’s Tooth by Craig Johnson
OK, I’m gonna try
to do the thing Joyce Saricks suggests: apply 3 terms to describe a book.
For the latest by
Craig Johnson, the terms I’m choosing are:
wry
testosterone
Western/mystery
This latest in his
stellar series particularly feels like a Western to me, and that’s a huge
compliment. I’ve got me a weakness for the Westerns. But it’s clearly still a
full-fledged mystery, too.
I’ve also got me a
weakness for Walt Longmire. And for his friend Henry Standing Bear, too. These
fellas are the manly sort of men: they don’t say much, but when they do, it’s
pretty darn good.
And Vic, his
undersheriff (and love interest) is pretty entertaining, too.
Here’s an exchange
between Walt and Vic:
“I eased back in my
chair. ‘Can I talk now?’
‘No, you cannot
talk until you show some semblance of being able to behave like a rational,
reasonable law-enforcement professional.’
I considered. ‘I’m
not going to be able to talk for the rest of my life?’”  (p. 200)
And, yeah, this
book has a plot and everything. Some Mormon fundamentalists are moving into
Walt’s county, which he discovers via a boy who’s been cast out from the group.
And then stuff gets
interesting. There are guns and shootouts and explosions and all kinds of good
crap like that. And things aren’t what
they seem…
So, while the plot
races right along (there was one point where I was turning the pages fast with my eyes wide), the thing I
continue to love about this series is its people. I like Walt’s narrative voice
and dry sense of humor, I like Henry’s use of plain language, I like Vic’s
cursing, and I like the strong sense of teamwork that infuses these stories.

So all I can say
is: thank you, Mr. Johnson, for gracing the Junes of my recent years with your
latest installment. Please don’t stop

Cowgirl wannabe

(photo credit: Library of Congress Prints
and Photographs Division)

I kinda wanna be a cowgirl.* This has been going on for years.

We could chalk up its origins to my feverish chicken pox brain, but
I think there’s more to it than that.
When I was in 1st (2nd?) grade, I got the
chicken pox, and I.Was.Elated.
Seriously. I was blissing like I’d never blissed before. Because: I Had to Stay
Home from School, Preferably in Bed… All Day Long.
And dudes, to this girl, that meant READING.
I could hardly contain myself.
Never mind the itching, I was in the lap of luxury.
I immediately made a plea for books. (There was a brief moment
when I thought: Oh my gosh. What if Mom can’t leave my side to pick up library
books?!?!) But my amazing mom made it happen. A pile-o-books materialized by
the bed. (Truly: a marvel, that lady. Now I’m wondering how she managed that
library run in the midst of chicken pox care. I have the sense that my
babysitter may have been deployed.)
I had asked for, and I received (yes, it was nearly biblical in
nature)… the Tizz books.  
Tizz was a palomino pony who was part of a family that included a
boy named Don and a girl whose name I’ve forgotten but who always had her hair
in the perkiest ponytail (ponytail!)
I’d ever seen.
Yes, it appeared at that young age that I might become one of
those little girls who’s wild about horses. (But instead, I just became one of
those little girls who liked reading about
horses.) 
After the best darn week of my young life (oh, chicken pox, why
must you strike only once?) I
continued my habit of reading darn near everything (even, as previously disclosed, a biography of Barry Manilow [so you can’t ever say I don’t tell all]), and that mix included a steady
diet of horse books.
During the Nancy Drew years (confession: I’m still in the Nancy
Drew years) I adored The Secret of
Shadow Ranch
because Nancy and her chums were all hanging around this old
decrepit ranch and riding horses and solving a highly improbable mystery. And
that’s one darn intoxicating blend. 
Then there was A Morgan for
Melinda
, which I remember chiefly because there was a horse in it, and also
because Melinda’s family decided to remodel a bathroom rather than take a
vacation. As a child, I simply had to disagree with their logic. I still disagree. I mean, for pete’s sake,
it’s 30 years later and I’m still making the frowny confused face at that
episode. (And guys? Happiness experts would support my argument. They say that
money only buys happiness if you use it for experiences,
rather than things. Take the damn
vacation!
)
Then I grew up and thought I was done with the horse books. Then I
ran across Hank and Chloe and Cowboys Are My Weakness.
And then the Pioneer Woman showed up with her blog and I got a whole
new dose of the cowgirl lifestyle.
And I dreamed of
it…. Oh, I dreamed.
But guys? The thing
is: I don’t actually want be an actual cowgirl.
I don’t like the
smell of manure.

I don’t like the smell of hay. 

I’m a compulsive
hand-washer.
I’m not wild about
the pre-dawn hours.
I’m not too much
into hard physical labor.
And the blood and
guts of ranch life… I’d pass out daily. (Seriously: At age 11, I was at a
friend’s farm when a sheep was giving birth, and I kept dashing out of the barn
back into the house to draw pictures of the Washington Monument to calm my
nerves. [I was already a presidential history geek, and the Washington Monument
was about all my meager artistic skills could render.] Then I’d feel like a
ninny and head back out to the barn. For about 30 seconds. Then flee back to
the house. This went on for some time.)
I Do Not Know How
to Ride a Horse.
I am kind of afraid
of horses. They are surprisingly big when you see one in real life. 
And that branding
stuff? Scary. Also: disturbing.
And then there’s that other procedure they do to steers… you know
what I’m talking about, and it ain’t pretty. (Never seen it, and never gonna.)
And then the beef cattle get hauled off to market to be… slaughtered. (The vegetarian quivers.)
Yet on I read, all about the horses and the ranches and the cowboys. I’m reading my way right off into the sunset…   
*But really, guys? Probably the moral of this story is that I
really wanna be a librarian. In that case, mission accomplished.