Author Mark Munger (Cloquet River Press)

Red Moon over White Sea by Laila Hietamies (1992 (English Translation: 2000). Aspasia Books. ISBN 0-9685881-4-x)

My pal Gerry Henkel, editor of The New World Finn, handed me a copy of this novel a few months back when we were talking about Sukulaiset: The Kindred, my latest work in progress. Set in Karelia, the U.S., Estonia, and Finland, Sukalaiset is a massive undertaking; my attempt to chronicle the events in Finland-Karelia-Estonia from 1918 to the present through fiction. Because Red Moon takes place in Viena, a Finnish speaking enclave of Russian Karelia just before the fall of Czar Nicholas II, Gerry thought it would give me some insight into the region, its people, and its history. He was right. But more than that, Red Moon is a whale of a good yarn as well.

Well-written, with believable characters and dialogue, the real beauty of Ms. Hietamie’s prose is the landscape. It has been said by others that one of the hallmarks of my own writing is my ability to call upon various settings as if the forests, lakes, farms, and rivers are characters in my tales. As the writer being referenced, I don’t have sufficient distance from my own work to comment upon that observation. But I can heap similar praise upon Red Moon: I felt as if I was riding, walking, and rowing the paths, roads, and lakes of early 20th century Karelia as the story of Anna Lisa Huotari and her grandfather, Ilja, unfolds and as they negotiate the dangerous politics and intrigue of pre-Soviet Karelia. The plot has a predictability to it but, given the quality of the overall story and Hietamie’s prose, that is but a minor distraction in this very fine read.

4 stars out of 5.

Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert (Hyperion, 2004. ISBN 978-1-4013-5965-2)

As an unabashed Liberal (note the large “L”) from a long line of unabashed Liberals (see the “books” tab in the dashboard and read the excerpt from my latest book, Mr. Environment), I of course loved Tim Russert’s political commentary. Not because he revealed his love and passion for all things left when he hosted “Meet the Press” but because he was one of the few commentators who refused to cow-tow to the thugs running Washington during the run-up to the Iraq War and thereafter. In this book, really a memoir of Tim’s life constructed around his roots and upbringing in South Buffalo, New York in the shadow of “Big Russ”, his father, we learn why Russert was not one to back down from a fight when interviewing the most powerful men and women in the world.

As a Protestant, I sometimes loathe, and oftentimes lament, the ritual and structure of the Catholic Church. Russert’s life story, growing up in an Irish Catholic working class family (his father worked two jobs to support Tim and his siblings) puts Catholicism in perspective and gave me a new appreciation for the depth and power of traditional faith in the formation of morals, family values and ethics. The snippets of life lived in parochial schools, from elementary school to law school, are priceless treasures and give perspective to the story of two ordinary men; a father and his son, who strove for, and at least, in terms of the the son’s short life, achieved the American dream. Russert’s depiction of meeting the Pope in Rome when he was working on the “Today Show”, left me in tears.

We miss you Tim. I have to give the book 5 of 5 stars. Even though it may not be Germinal or Lonesome Dove in terms of literary merit, it’s a great read about two extraordinary ordinary Irish Catholic Americans.

Under the Banner of Heaven: A story of a Violent Faith by Jon Krakauer (Anchor, 2004. ISBN 978-1-4000-3280-8)

OK, I’ll admit to my prejudice. As an historian, I have a hard time buying Joseph Smith’s story regarding the discovery of the golden plates near the Hill Cumorah in the early 19th century. There are many arguments that I could advance here to illustrate why I am a skeptic when it comes to Smith’s claim that divinity led him to the Mormon faith and to the founding of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) a few years later. This review isn’t the place for such a debate. And even in my fightingest mood as an Episcopalian, I must admit: the Mormons, as the fastest growing faith in the world, are on to something.

Jon Krakauer explores what that something is not by examining the brutal murder of a woman and her infant daughter at the hands of the woman’s brothers-in-law (the child’s paternal uncles). Krakauer’s work unravels the dedication and call to duty that permeates the LDS faith, and in the case of LDS Fundamentalism, rises to the level of murder.

There is no question that the issue of polygamy remains the central principle of the tens of thousands of Fundamentalist Mormons who cannot reconcile the teachings of Joseph Smith (and the leadership of Brigham Young) with the modern LDS stand against plural marriage. Krakauer explores these fissures in the only American-born religion in great detail, and paints a picture that the LDS hierarchy would rather went unnoticed.

Krakauer interviews one of the brothers involved in the murders which form the centerpiece of the book. And as Krakauer questions the faith, the motives, and the ideas contained in the seemingly innocent and benevolent mind of Dan Lafferty (the brother who wielded the knife that slashed the throats of his sister-in-law and niece) one gets the sense that religious zealotry is not only found in third-world countries. Just like Timothy McVie, who evinced no remorse for killing dozens of children as part of his attack on the federal building in Oklahoma City, Dan Lafferty seems content with what he has done. After all, God spoke to his brother Allen and Allen relayed the plan to Dan. Isn’t that how it was done in the Old Testament?

Krakauer never loses sight of the fact that, as cynical as outsiders might be regarding the historic accuracy of Joseph Smith’s discovery, no one within the mainstream LDS church, the church that raised the Laffery brothers, supports their theology or their crimes. But, even though the modern church has distanced itself from the fringes, the Laffertys’ brand of Mormonism shares a common history with the mainstream church.

The Lafferts’ brutality isn’t far removed from the legendary Mormon trek west; a journey which reached the height of paranoid depravity with the massacre of over one hundred men, women and children. Surrounded by Mormon militia and their Native American allies at a place called Mountain Meadows in August of 1857, members of an Arkansan wagon train were assured safe passage through Utah by the Mormon commander if they surrendered their weapons. The travelers did so, with nary a hint of fear, only to be slaughtered.

According to the author, the religious fervor that caused sane men to commit such an atrocity still lurks in the dark fringes of Mormonism. There has been no recognition by the LDS church of the church’s involvement in the massacre.  Even today, the official line remains: “It was the Indians.” And this failure, Krakauer convincingly asserts, is why folks like Allen and Dan Lafferty persist at the far edges of Joseph Smith’s religion nearly 200 years later.

A great non-fiction book on a misunderstood and under appreciated religion, Under the Banner of Heaven is also a solid “true crime” story. 4 stars out of 5.

Independent People by Halldor Laxness (Knopf, 1946. ISBN (Newer Edition)978-0-8446-6949-6)

I never had the chance to break bread or have a glass of wine with Minnesota writer and Icelandic son Bill Holm. Though I was privileged to hear him read from his work and play a few piano tunes, I didn’t read any of Holm’s work until I picked up his essay collection, Eccentric Islands, a fine bit of work on its own but not the subject of this review.

Bill’s book praised to high heavens the seminal Icelandic novel, Independent People in such accolades that I was compelled to search out a used hardcover copy of the novel on the Internet. Holm himself, along with another of his Icelandic-writer pals, boasted about perusing the web to locate cheap copies of Laxness’ prose gem; the cheaper the better, was the way Holm described the competitive search for used copies of the book. The pair would then give the copies away to anyone who seemed remotely interested in reading a novel by an Icelander. Hundreds of copies of Independent People were apparently rescued from the shredder and handed out by Holm and company as a means of promoting Laxness’ work.

To the story. Bjartur, a lowly freeholder who has struggled his whole adult life to obtain a bit of craggy Icelandic farmland upon which to raise sheep and a family, is a darkly forlorn and seemingly unfeeling beast. As the protagonist of this epic saga of man against nature, other men, and himself, Bjartur is stubborn, determined, and steadfast, all to the detriment of his wives and children.

The writing contains a bit of Scandinavian mysticism and large doses of tragedy and angst. The book is similar in tone and feel to the great novels of Minnesota writers Herbert Krause and Ole Rolvaag, whose books chronicled farmers struggling to survive in seemingly inhospitable places.

Though the language may seem a tad awkward at first, there is a lyric quality to Laxness’ prose that sings of the Vikings and old Norse sagas. Bill Holm was right. Independent People is a must read for anyone interested in the great literature of Scandinavia.  4 1/2 stars out of 5.(Portions of this review first appeared in the Duluth News Tribune Sunday “Scrapbook” section).

The Work of Wolves by Kent Meyers (2004, Harvest Books. ISBN978-0-15-603123-4)

I picked up this novel in a nice little bookstore in Hill City, SD when I was on vacation in the Black Hills. Other than the bookstore, Hill City has little to offer a visitor after 5:00pm on a week night. Even restaurants seem to shut down once the work day is over. Any way, I love finding local fiction when I am out and about and The Work of Wolves intrigued me. I wasn’t disappointed.

Ostensibly the story of horse trainer Carson Fielding (a teenager at the beginning of the story who buys his first horse from a wealthy neighbor) and Carson’s later interactions with his father, his mother, the neighbor, and the bleak South Dakota landscape they all share, the book contains three primary subplots: Carson’s story, which involves Carson returning to the rich man’s ranch to train horses and teach the rancher’s young wife to ride (amongst other things); the story of a German exchange student’s discovery of family secrets as he accompanies Carson and two Sioux warriors on a quest; and the awakening of Earl Walks Alone to his Lakota culture during that same quest (rescuing the horses Carson trained).

Meyers, who teaches writing at Black Hills State University in Spearfish, draws us into a world of fictional characters set, not in the easily appreciated landscape of the Black Hills, but in the bleak desolation of the adjacent Badlands.This modern fable is filled with Native mysticism, young love and tension. My only criticism of the book is that, at times, Meyers’ lets his obvious gift for expressive narrative get in the way of the story by overly describing (rather than letting the reader discover) the inner machinations of his characters. I also thought that the German student’s subplot was out of place in the context of the main story, but would have made for a fine novella or novel in its own right had it been more fully developed. Still, a good read full of vibrant dialogue, characters and settings. 4 stars out of 5.

Mormonism for Dummies by Jana Riess and Christopher Kimball Bigelow (2005, Wiley Publishing, Inc., ISBN 0-7645-7195-8)

Faith. Such a thin armor against the uncertainties of this world and what comes next. It would be easy to assail the faith of those who follow the Angel Moroni’s story, as reported and written by Joseph Smith in 1830, as the stuff magicians and con-men feed the spirit weary and soul hungry. If that’s what you’re looking for, an indictment of the Mormon faith, an assault on the origins, practices and beliefs of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day Saints, this book isn’t for you. Read my review of  Jon Krakauer’s expose below if that’s what you’re after. But if you are interested in learning, in a bare-bones sort of way, the history, tenets and practices of the one truly American religion, the fastest growing religion in the world, then Mormonism for Dummies is a good place to start.

Written with a sense of wry humor, easily paced and informative, this is really a beginner’s guide to the essence of Mormonism. It is not a treatise and certainly no critique, avoiding all but scant mention of many of the troubling aspects of Mormon history and the faith Joseph Smith claims to have founded with divine assistance. Still, all and all, a good place to begin. 3 Stars out of 5.

and the Wilderness Shall Blossom: Henry Benjamin Whipple by Anne Beiser Allen (2008, Afton Press, ISBN 978-1-890434-75-5)

This book was a mistake from its inception: But don’t take that statement to mean this isn’t a thoroughly planned, well researched, and finely executed biography. It is indeed all of those things. But, much like Kirby Puckett, the famed Minnesota Twins outfielder (whose size and body shape seemed wholly unsuited to be a Hall of Fame ballplayer) this book is just plain packaged wrong. Someone, maybe the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota, maybe Bishop Jelinek, maybe the author, maybe the publisher, convinced the design team at Afton Press (or the design team at Afton Press convinced them) to issue this biography in, of all formats, a coffee table book! No. No. No. The story of Bishop Henry Whipple is the story of Minnesota’s statehood, the formation of Christian missions to the Sioux and the Ojibwe throughout the Midwest, and, above all else, the story of a wholly remarkable churchman; a person many Minnesotans have no idea paddled our streams,  walked our forest trails, and fished our bountiful lakes during the last half of the 19th century. Well, he did. And damn it (Can I say that when critiquing a bishop’s biography?) his story should have come out in a 6×9 trade paperback at a price of $25.00 or less so every man, woman and child in this state can own a copy. At $45.00 per copy and printed in a size that’s too big to hold while shivering in a deer stand or relaxing in a beach chair, and the Wilderness Shall Blossom is a ponderous, heavy, ungainly work that is beautiful as a centerpiece on your coffee table but impossible to haul into bed to read before lights out. I loved the content. Loved the photos and layout. Someone, and I don’t know who, decided to create a work of art out of the dust, dirt, miles and tears of Bishop Whipple’s life. I think the good bishop would have been happier had the publisher given Minnesotans a less expensive and less physically arduous volume. Well written and precise, the content is 5 stars out of 5. The design is 3 stars out of 5 at best.  I’d lean towards the content and rate the total package to be 4 and 1/2 stars out of 5.

A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving (2009, Ballantine Books Edition, ISBN 978-0-345-41797-8)

An apology to John Irving. I read, Until I Find You, his last published book until his recently released hardcover novel, Last Night in Twisted River. Or at least, I attempted to read Until I Find You. The book frustrated me to no end. Replete with references to a young boy of ten being bedded by older women and similar implausibilities (both moral and physical), the book caused me, for the first and only time in my over fifty years as a reader (beginning with Tip and the classic sequel, Tip and Mitten sometime around 1959), to pitch Irving’s piece of crap into a trash can. Didn’t offer it up to some other poor schmoe. Didn’t take it back to the bookstore so it could be foisted on some unknowing patron as a “quality” used book. I chucked Until I Find You, plain and simple. And then I wrote scathing reviews of the thing for both the Amazon and Barnes and Noble websites. I think my diatribe is still up on Amazon but I believe the editorial staff at barnesandnoble.com (probably fans of Irving’s) never let my review out of the box. In any event, I was told by others who came across my expose’ of Mr. Irving’s prose that I should have read A Prayer for Owen Meany instead. You know what? Those folks were right.

At first, I didn’t really appreciate the depth and breadth of Owen’s story, as related by his best friend, Johnny Wheelwright. In fact, the early paragraphs revealing Owen’s physical, spiritual, and mental attributes seemed a bit creepy. But then I grew to love the little guy; grew to accept the capital letters that Irving uses to depict Owen’s high pitched, juvenile screech; “The Voice”. It is a voice, indeed, for the ages. The plot is complex. The characters, endearing. The ending, though a tad predictable in result, has enough suspense and surprise to compel you to race to the last page. Overall, I must bow to Mr. Irving’s talent. I agree: This is indeed a terrific novel, an American classic. 5 stars out of 5.