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A review by alisarae
Winter in the Blood by James Welch
Lately I have been itching for some fiction that isn't MFA-ified. I have been going back to older, 20th century lit, where the language is crisp and colorful and the author's voice is clear and unique. Winter in the Blood fits the bill.
Okay, I know what I'm about to say is unfairly anachronistic, but: imagine Murakami, no magic realism save a couple dream sequences, and add in rural Montana in the 70s. That is how this book felt to me.
A couple things stood out to me while I was listening. First, there were no devices so when people wanted to fiddle, they had to fiddle with other things: keys, random animals in the surroundings, blades of grass. I like how the author includes those moments of downtime. Second, subtle deliniations between cultural insiders and outsiders, so subtle it seems almost unintentional... very gracefully done.
Okay, I know what I'm about to say is unfairly anachronistic, but: imagine Murakami, no magic realism save a couple dream sequences, and add in rural Montana in the 70s. That is how this book felt to me.
A couple things stood out to me while I was listening. First, there were no devices so when people wanted to fiddle, they had to fiddle with other things: keys, random animals in the surroundings, blades of grass. I like how the author includes those moments of downtime. Second, subtle deliniations between cultural insiders and outsiders, so subtle it seems almost unintentional... very gracefully done.