Jack Wennerstrom

It has been observed more than a few times that Henry James was a novelist who wrote like a psychologist, wile William James was a psychologist who wrote like a novelist. Here's an interesting variation on that sort of thing, a single writer (not a brother-act) whose very significant nature-writing is often enriched by his restless questing mind and his gift for creative narrative, and whose fiction is always infused with his deep experience of the natural world. So, this little volume combines those elements in the form of a twin story of a family in chaos (a theme central to Wennerstrom's other two published novels) and a environmental murder-mystery set in the upper Potomac Valley, more specifically the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia. While a good read, it is not always a compelling one, though the climax more than justifies the occasional thinness of earlier pages. It is, in fact one of the more haunting hunter/hunted narratives I've read in a long time, recalling, among others, Davison Grubb. The author has told me that his motivation and style were rather different here than in the other novels (BLACK COFFEE, and PHEASANT ALLEY), but they all share the author's great though bizarre gift at evoking nightmarish situations. If this sounds a little apologetic, that's my own fault as a writer. Honestly, even on an off-day, Wennerstrom's creations are more worthwhile to read than ninety percent of that vast sucking miasma called Contemporary Fiction.… (més)