Two brothers struggle with moral, legal, and physical challenges while living off the grid near Yellowstone.
The seasons and mountain wilderness are practically characters in this vividly rendered novel, while the human element is merely part of the landscape. Thad and his younger brother, Hazen, have been doing whatever they need to survive, living off the land. Their mother long ago abandoned the family, and now their father has died. They’re on their own, extending that family’s legacy: “Though they possessed no great strength, the men in their line had been shaped—by environment and circumstance—for tremendous acts of myopic endurance.” The brothers are even more myopic and perhaps not as strong, or at least not as fit for survival, as their capable, taciturn father had been. Their father also had a strong sense of right and wrong, and the brothers know they are falling short of that. At least Thad does. At 27, he’s a year older than Hazen, and he’s the more reflective one. Hazen is the impulsive one, less capable of functioning on his own, or so thinks Thad. Their lives have become more of a challenge than ever, as their father’s death left them in greater financial straits, and the roof of their rickety house is almost literally coming down on them. An evil, mysterious outsider—“the Scot”—offers a scheme to save the house, but it involves an illegal haul of elk antlers; hundreds of pounds worth. It appears the brothers are destined for disaster, but one of the surprises here is the way the novel’s elemental plot subverts expectations. “You don’t know anything,” the Scot tells Thad. “You don’t even know how much you don’t know.”
A novel of impeccable control and unflinching darkness. And then a glimmer of hope.