In the 1920’s during Prohibition, protagonist Randolph Aldridge, son of a Pennsylvania lumber baron, travels to Louisiana to find his elder brother, Byron, and manage one of his father’s sawmills. Randolph takes the train to Nimbus, an isolated logging town, where Byron functions as the arm of the law. Byron is estranged from his family after returning from his service in WWI, where he has suffered psychological trauma. The sawmill hands work hard, drink hard, and fight hard, often leading to violent confrontations. A mafia boss controls the local saloon and brothels, which adds to the violence.

The setting is vividly described. The writing is atmospheric and evokes a strong sense of the Louisiana swamps. The characters are particularly well-drawn. The relationship between the brothers is key. Byron has withdrawn to the edges of civilization and Randolph wants to help him reconnect with life. During his melancholy moods, Byron plays a series of sad songs on the Victrola. Randolph cares deeply for his brother, eventually making a significant sacrifice. The supporting characters are believable and given enough backstory to picture them as part of this small remote community. Even the blind horse has a unique personality.

I particularly enjoyed the writing style in passages such as: “Ella appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame, looking at her brother-in-law. After a while she placed a finger below a dry blue eye. At first Randolph didn’t understand, but then he turned and saw that Byron was crying, his lips formed carefully around each note of the song issuing thin and one-dimensional from the mahogany cabinet. Randolph sat as still as wood, his lips parted, his disbelieving breath coming lightly between his lips. Out in the mill yard, rain began to fall, and the house shook as the blind horse bumped its head against the porch post.”

This book strikes a satisfying balance between character and plot. It is dark and violent but contains offsetting elements of decency and redemption. It features many voices, such as the northern outsiders, Cajuns, Creoles, African Americans, and Italians. It gets the reader thinking about how violence impacts people and nature. I am impressed by the author’s craftsmanship.
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Tim Gautreaux writes about the South and Louisiana the way you might speak of a old, mangy dog that you love but know others might not. His writing shows all the wounds and the rough underbelly of society, but somehow manages to convey that people who are struggling here are somehow more alive than their safer brothers in the settled North.

There are so many dangers and frightening animals in these pages. Cottonmouth snakes and alligators and mosquitoes that cover men like second skins, but nothing is as frightening or dangerous as the human element that stalks the swamps with guns and knives and lead pipes.

The two brothers who form the nucleus of this novel, Randolph and Byron Aldridge, are often in over their heads, trying to deal with lawlessness, personal vendetta, and immorality. Their relationship with one another is touching and real, constantly proving that old adage that blood is thicker than water...a theme that is reflected back at us in the persons of their main enemies, Buzetti and his cousin, Couch. There are strong women as well, represented by the wives of these men and their mixed-blood housekeeper, who weather both the difficult environment and the unpredictability of their men.

After dark, he thought too much and sometimes drank, and one quiet evening when he heard from across the yard Byron wake howlin out of another dreamed bloodletting, he saw that his one killing did not stack up against the ranks of German Kinder his brother had packed off to darkness. While this thought didn’t comfort him, it gave him perspective on the deep well of foreboding into which his brother sank each time he opened his eyes on a sunrise.

Byron, a man broken by war, is hiding the middle of a battlefield. Randolph, who is tied to his brother by memory and affection but fails to understand him, witnesses something of the horrors his brother has experienced and learns what it is to face an enemy with only the choice of kill or be killed. This is a tale of sacrifice and redemption, layered like a good Southern biscuit. I loved it.
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I found this book to be slow going at first - I am not fond of his highly flowery writing style- but once I adjusted to that the story flowed and I did enjoy the read. This was a bit too violent for me and seemed to lack optimism. Toward the end, the journey the two primary characters were on became more positive and redemptive. The descriptiveness of the author’s writing style is remarkable- this reader could almost feel the smothering nature of the Louisiana bayou. ( )

A great disappointment. Just prior to reading "The Clearing," I read three collections of his short stories, the great majority of which are excellent, and I couldn't wait to read more of his work. "The Clearing" turned out to be a slog to finish. Hard to believe it's even the same author, other than the Louisiana setting. A number of irritating techniques, e.g. alternating calling a main character Randolph and then "the mill manager." Lots of violence, which somehow becomes repetitive and makes the book more difficult to finish. As for the title, as some have noted elsewhere, the French translation's title "Le Dernier Arbre" (The Last Tree) might have been a better choice. A plea to the author - more short stories, please. ( )

I had been avoiding reading this book as I was dreading it pulling me down as it didn't seem to be a happy novel. However, although generally lots of bad things happen, there is joy and happiness among the pages. The sense of place is the most powerful thing in this novel It is set in a logging camp in a Louisiana cypress swamp in the 1920s and I could feel the darkness of the forest, the dampness of the air and see the clouds of insects and the numerous snakes. The noises of the logging camp were also well described, the steam engines and axes and the quiet when the day's work had finished. As the forest is cleared, the stumps of trees that were left is well described and the light that starts to filter through the trees as the belt of trees around the camp gets smaller and smaller is fascinating.
In this remote forest clearing live Byron, the estranged brother of Randolph, who Tim Gautreaux often refers to as the Mill Manager. There is the saloon that is the place of fights and card cheats and there are the workers. The novel deals with the pain of Byron who fought in the first world war and his healing. ( )