Since the midsummer I have been letting 'The New Yorker' and 'The Week' dictate what I will read next, and this was one that I would never have found without them. On a 3,000 mile round trip car ride I populated my public library hold list with this being one of the results.
The book is a murder mystery of sorts. I am a life long reader of the genre, and would say I read about four or five for every book of heftier intellectual material year in and year out. So I wasn't upset by the book opening with the discovery of a dead woman and the subsequent hunt for her killer. The story is told from the viewpoint of the prime suspect, the sheriff, and the suspect's nephew. It is well written and unlike a classic murder mystery, the point is not to bring the killer to justice but to understand what is going on through several perspectives. Life is fragile, the impulse for violence is omnipresent, jealousy is a terrible thing, and dissatisfaction is all too easy to achieve. That is what I got out of the story, and it was an enjoyable lesson despite the disheartening message.
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