The book came highly recommended to me by a friend whose taste I trust, so I didn't read the book jacket description (the best way to read books, by the way). Set in America in 1915, the main character and story-teller is Monte Becket, a one-hit-wonder adventure novel writer who quit his job in the post office but fails to do much right. Becket sort of reminded me of Frank Bascombe in Richard Ford's novels (recommended too, but much more difficult reads). Both are appealing due to their failures, honestly, and innate American optimism.

Well, a resident of Northfield, Minnesota (which I was proud to call home for four years), meets a reclusive neighbor from down the river. The neighbor is kind, full of the most amazing stories, and has a rather dubious history. To the two set off for a six-week trip to Mexico, a journey of mutual benefit. Glendon, the neighbor, must appease his conscience and confess his faults to a previous wife from his Mexican outlaw days. Becket needs to find himself and discover his true calling whether as a writer, a postman, a husband, a father, or a just a failure.

Adventures ensue. Tears and laughter are shared. Hope is kindled and lost.

I won't ruin the story, but I will say it contains my new favorite baptism scene in modern fiction. It's beautiful, hilarious, and so complex it could be used in ten sermons, twenty different ways.

[Ok, here's just a bite if your curious...

"A new fear entered me, ‘Glendon, what if it's wrong for me to do it? Suppose I imperil something'"
‘Imperil what?'
‘My immortal soul,' I rather hissed.
‘Why Becked,' he said, with a warm familiarity I found irksome.
‘I'm serious. What if He's got some rule about this? What if God hates impostors?'
He looked bemused, ‘If you're afriad, then I think you're no impostor.'"  ]

I'll be reviewing some churchy non-fiction books next week, but if your taste is anything like mine, you'll more enjoy the truthful fiction of Enger's So Brave, Young, and Handsome.

Just for fun, and for some linking love, here's some other random blog reviews of the novel:  Crookedshore, Erik Emery Hanberg, and BitterSweetLife.

So Brave is the difficult second novel and I think Enger is conscious of this in the plot line. The winsome narrator is Monte Becket, a writer in Minnesota in 1915 who was a surprise runaway success with a story he wrote. On a promise for a second, he tries to concoct a story from his imagination but consistently falls short. Given that one of the storylines rejected is very similar to the plot of Peace Like A River, I guess we can assume there is some autobiographical element to So Brave.

The story unfolds in a journey south with a companion with an unknown past named Glendon Hale, pursued by a relentless and brutal former Pinkerton detective Charles Siringo. (Siringo's brutality and indestructability reminded me of "No Country for Old Men').

I chime with Enger's view of the world. The story is a bit of a romp, a tale of derring-do and the type of old fashioned yarn that is perhaps quite rare these days. There's no real mystery in the ending, you can see it coming from afar, but the book satisfies for all that. There's a funny conversation on literary criticism between Beckett and a policeman named Royal Davies. Writers do their readers no favours he says, by letting them believe that life is adventure. Becket, and I guess we may say Enger, writes in response:

I take issue with Royal, much as I came to like him; violent and doomed as this world might be, a romance it certainly is.”

One writer in particular is the subject of conversation the imaginary BS Ample, who shuns romanticism in favour of pragmatic realism. Is there a joke in his name?

It's not that Enger shuns darkness in the novel, both Siringo and young man Hood Roberts display capricious and cold violence. He also allows for the chance tragedies of accident and weather. But through it all grace shines.

Lying in the bed in hospital, where I read this book, the surprising appearances of grace are what caused me to close the book several times and reflect on what I had read. Early in the book, Becket apprentices himself to Hale who is building a boat. Hale works from plans in his head, feeling the lines of the boat emerge beneath his fingers as he planes the wood. Becket remarks on the graceful lines of the boat uncovered by Hale's loving work. Hale remarks,

They are decent lines..you can see the sheer now, the curve. A line only gets grace when it curves, you know.

With that line I was sold on this book. I guess the curve my life has taken over the last year was unexpected. Previous there had been a reasonably unbroken, straight line in which God had been transparently good to me and my family. My health had never been the line I expected to bend from true. But here I was in hospital. And here was a sentence which gave me hope. The possibility of beauty emerging from the line as it bends under pressure.

But doesn't break.

Late in the book, Hales asks Becket to baptise him in the river as a form of insurance policy. Becket, who struggles with faith reluctantly agrees and finds himself standing in the middle of the cold river, terrified by the creatures swimming round him and brushing against his legs, confused by the task he must now fulfil, to immerse Hale in the river and say a prayer over him.

The river ran around us. It was an absurd situation for an ambivalent fellow like myself - numb to the eyeballs, dispensing a grace I couldn't even describe.

Well, the river has run round my family and me in recent months. Its force has bent us all out of shape at times, and moved us in directions and to places we never really expected. But there is grace here to be dispensed. Indeed, there is grace being dispensed. Grace we struggle to describe.

But for which we are grateful.

I was listening to a writing conference CD on my way home today and the discussion was on the difference between literary fiction and commercial fiction.

Several of the editors (it was a question and answer session) recommended reading Leif Enger's book Peace Like a River.

I read the book through Reader's Digest Select Editions.

Is it a sin for writers to read condensed versions of books?

I wonder what I missed by not seeing all the words.

The truth is, I would have never gotten around to reading the full blown version because I have so many books on my "to read" shelves (yes, shelves).

I have enjoyed so many good books through Select Editions.

Anyway, Miss Snark says "When agents talk about commercial fiction they mean the stuff that sells well. When they talk about literary fiction they mean the stuff that gets reviewed well."

In my opinion, literary fiction is about the art of the writing itself and commercial fiction is about entertainment.

One book that I recommend you read for literary fiction is The Last Sin Eater by Francine Rivers. She happens to be one of my favorite writers. Her book Redeeming Love is, in my opinion, a Christian Classic (the heroine is a prostitute. Warning: This book is very sensual)

P. S. I'm not smart enough to write literary works of art.

This is a simple book, and for some, that will be reason enough not to read it. It is not subtle. It is not satire. It does not try and convince readers that American life is obscene or wicked. Indeed, it lacks nearly everything that "literary" authors hold dear. It almost feels (gasp!) pleasant.

But let's focus on our theme: the simple. So Brave, Young, and Handsome is a Western, complete with the regular round-up of Western characters: the flawed hero, the wizened gray-haired mentor, the diabolical villain, the devoted maiden, and the young bucko who wants to grow up faster than anyone. Boring, right? Actually, no. Enger has taken all these stereotypes and flipped them on their heads, crafting a Western with paradoxical players. Our flawed hero, Monte Becket, is a middle-aged, one-hit wonder writer. The wizened gray-haired mentor is Glendon Hale, a genteel old man whose past doesn't match his manners. And the diabolical villain, Charlie Siringo, is actually a detective. This is consistent throughout the novel: though each character clearly belongs in a Western, none of them are quite what you'd expect.

At times, the prose borders on verbosity (mirroring the literature of the novel's early twentieth century setting), and the story does take a few chapters to get off the ground. Yet, it's worth pushing through, worth accustoming yourself to the rhythms of the text. Enger's goal here is not to overcome you with style: the characters are rewarding enough. What's more, the writing never detracts from the story. If anything, it allows Monte (our "one-hit wonder" narrator) to ask questions like, "Why was I a slave to sentiment when it failed me so reliably?" (p 34) Such pondering could easily come off as faux-profundity, but Enger smooths the way for us to welcome such reflections (and maybe even nod in wistful agreement).

That is not to say, however, that there are no hard things in this book. As the plot thickens and twists and turns, the complexities and dilemmas follow suit. This is not a John Wayne movie. Sometimes, life hurts. Sometimes a life ends long before you think it ought. Yet, there is one passage worth remembering throughout the entire book, even after you're done:

"You're doing these youngsters no service, you know," [Royal Davies] said, looking tired himself. He got to his feet and braced as the train huffed to a sooty platform. "You authors, I mean—this world ain't no romance, in case you didn't notice."

"So I am discovering," I replied. It was, I suppose, the expected wry answer, and made my host chuckle, but now I am taking it back. I take issue with Royal, much as I came to like him; violent and doomed as this world might be, a romance it certainly is. (p 43)

It is this attitude that makes So Brave, Young, and Handsome so endearing and so worthwhile. For if we believe that life is a romance, all the random stories and events of our lives start to fall in place. Such a belief does not require constant life-threatening danger, but it will change the way you look at the world. And I think this means that (in the end) Enger accomplishes as much if not more than any "literary" author who enlists the help of shock, satire, or subtlety. Truth need not always come tasting like cod liver oil. Very often, in fact, it's the spoonful of sugar that transforms our ordinary everyday lives into a romance.

Magic and Realism and Magical Realism: An Examination of Peace like a River and “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”

The definition of magical realism is an elusive one. On a surface level, any piece of literature that employs fantastic elements in an otherwise realistic setting may be considered a part of the genre. But that statement alone begs another question: is magical realism a genre or a technique? Certainly, members of a particular genre utilize common techniques, but can literature be classified on technique alone, or are there other factors that need to be considered? If magical realism is understood as merely a technique, there are very important factors that are neglected. Critics who consider magical realism to be a literary movement, rather than a characteristic of certain literature, also take into account authorial intent, as well as the context (historical, philosophical, and cultural). Since its reception on the literary scene, Leif Enger’s Peace like a River has been discussed using such phrases as “magical realism.” Its elements of the fantastic certainly make it a candidate for the technique of “magical realism,” but when compared to an exemplar of the magical realism movement in Latin America, Marquez’s “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” it becomes apparent that we are comparing distinctively unlike genres.

Magical realism movements have occurred all over the world. The most common are places where a culture is dealing with a postcolonial identity crisis. Widely accepted movements have been located in Latin America, Japan, Africa, and America, where Native Americans and African Americans alike have struggled to exist in an Anglo-Saxon culture that has a history of oppressing their own. Magical realism is often subversive. In Gómez-Vega’s article, “Subverting the ‘Mainstream’ Paradigm Through Magical Realism in Thomas King’s Green Grass Running Water,” she explains that magical realism tends to, “subvert[s] the hegemonic paradigms” of any given culture (Gómez-Vega 1). This occurs as the fantastic elements are often representative of the pre-oppressed cultures’ mythology, folklore, or religious beliefs, and the realistic elements, often very modern, represent the world the culture is trying to successfully exist in. Jean-Pierre Durix explains that, “[post-colonial writers] are often torn between two contradictory desires: one is to go back to the native sources; the other is to use the tradition offered by European realism to reinterpret their reality in their own terms”(80). This constant tension between what was and what is creates the foundation for magical realism.

In the case of “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” the author is Latin American and living in a world where his culture is dealing with the effects of postcolonial Spanish occupation and influence. The fantastic elements in this story center around the arrival of an angel into a small, Latin American community. The angel and his miracles do not meet the characters’ expectations of what a holy, God-sent creature should be or do. In Enger’s novel, miracles are also used as the author weaves his story in a realistic setting. The miracles in Peace like a River are performed by Jeremiah, the father of narrator Rueben. Jeremiah is, what readers can assume to be, Christian and the novel’s foundational mythology is that of the Judeo-Christian culture and its set of beliefs.

Even though both stories showcase miracles as their fantastic elements, there are several differences that present themselves. The most obvious, perhaps, is that neither the angel nor the miracles performed in “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings” are what the townspeople expect. The angel is described as, “[having] an unbearable smell of the outdoors, the back side of his wings was strewn with parasites and his main feathers had been mistreated by terrestrial winds, and nothing about him measured up to the proud dignity of angels” (205). This observation by Father Gonzaga precedes a sermon he gives the townspeople on their naivety in believing this creature to be an angel. He says that hawks and planes have wings as well, and neither of them are angels (206). This disappointing angel does not deliver miracles they expect either. The first miracle is that a blind man grows three new teeth instead of having his sight restored. Next, a paralytic person almost wins the lottery, and last but not least, sunflowers sprout from a leper’s sores. The townspeople consider these to be “consolation miracles […that were] mocking fun.” Because the people do not truly believe this angel to be sent from God, due to how it looks and what their preconceived notions are, they fail to see past their own prejudices and personal motivations. In fact, the townspeople fail to see any providence in the angel’s arrival, which is starkly contrasted with how the characters in Peace like a River react to the miracles performed by Jeremiah, in that every miracle Jeremiah performs is the will of God.

The first miracle Jeremiah performs is the birth of his son, also the narrator of the book, Reuben. Reuben, who has debilitating asthma during much of his life, is born and promptly dies. Jeremiah is outside, praying, while his son is being born and while his son dies. In fact, Jeremiah is 12 minutes late when he finally comes back to the hospital room to see his wife and child. After Dr. Nokes does his best to revive Rueben, Jeremiah takes over and commands “‘Rueben Land, in the name of the living God I am telling you to breathe’”(Enger 3). Rueben, who is recounting the miracle, does not retell the moment he comes back to life, but instead goes on to explain the purpose of miracles, which gives the reader insight into the miracles’ function within the story. Rueben explains:

Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it’s been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. […] Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature. It’s true: They rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. […] A miracle contradicts the will of the earth […] [n]o miracle happens without a witness. Someone to declare, Here’s what I saw. Here’s how it went. Make of it what you will. (Enger 3)

This passage lets the reader know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that these miracles recounted in the narrative are meant to be taken as literal miracles, used to bear witness to God and his love. If the reader is able to suspend disbelief and accept Jeremiah’s miracles as fact, it becomes just another piece of the narrative thread. The miracles are nothing more than miracles.

In Marquez’s piece, the angel seems to bear witness that the townspeople are cynical and jaded, as they have no difficulty in believing in fantastic creatures; however, they do have a hard time accepting that the angel is a Godsend. During the angel’s stay with Pelayo and Elisenda, their baby overcomes its illness and they become wealthy, which no one in the story equates with the angel’s presence. The reader is able to pick up on subtle irony that allows the tension inherent in the old world/new world struggle to play out in the story. The fantastic elements in magical realism, and in this story in particular, are often motifs or symbols, not to be taken literally in their meaning, only in their effect on the story and its characters.

There are several other miracles that Reuben recounts in Peace like a River. Rueben tells the story of the time his father was praying so hard and fervently that he walks on air. He shares:

Dad walked right off the edge of the truck. […] And did not fall. He went on pacing—God as my witness—walking on air, praying relentlessly, a good yard of absolutely nothing between the soles of his boots and the thistles below. (Enger 17)

This event obviously impacted Rueben deeply, otherwise he would not have included it. Equally important, and Rueben would agree, was the fact that he witnessed it. Jeremiah performs miracle after miracle and each time, Rueben explains that he shares these miraculous experiences because that is the duty of those who witness these fantastic events. He believes that they are occurring whole-heartedly, and not once does Enger let on that the reader should be wary of the veracity of Rueben’s account.

Another important aspect of post-colonial magical realism is that the literary works of this genre aim to synthesize what is known of the old world and what they are experiencing in the modern world. Durix explains the difference between fantastic elements found in European literature, versus the fantastic elements in magical realism:

Where, in European literature, the fantastic serves to protest against the tyranny of ‘fact,’ in post-colonial literature it frequently serves to incorporate the old values and beliefs into the modern man’s perception. It has a social function, whereas in European literature, it more often expresses individualistic rebellion. (Durix 81)

In Marquez’s story, the townspeople choose to not listen to the advice of a representative of the Catholic Church, which holds much weight in and of itself, when it comes to how they ought to deal with the angel. The reader also finds that the townspeople choose not to listen to the wise woman of the village, who represents their indigenous, pre-colonial traditions.

It can be argued that Enger’s story represents the “European” fantastic fiction that Durix talks about. Rueben, in his exposition on the purpose of miracles, explains how miracles are contrary to fact. He says, “[Miracles] rebut every rule all we good citizens take comfort in. […] When a person dies, the earth is generally unwilling to cough him back up. […] A miracle contradicts the will of the earth” (Enger 3). Many Christians believe that the physical world is what brings out the sinful nature in humans, that it tempts us. Along the same thought, Satan is often referred to as the “prince of the world,” which is found in John 14:30. That being said, it is not such a stretch as to say that Enger’s miracles demonstrate God’s power over Satan and his physical kingdom. Rueben himself says that miracles are contrary to “the will of the earth” (Enger 3). In other words, the physical world, which is Satan’s domain, is ruled by the “tyranny of ‘fact’” as explained by Durix. The purpose of Enger’s miracles, then, is to show God’s sovereignty over all of creation.

Peace like a River employs the fantastic and employs it well. Enger effortlessly weaves Jeremiah’s miracles into a cross country coming-of-age adventure. The matter-of-fact way in which Rueben retells what he has witness without selling an agenda or thumping a Bible allows the reader to accept and enjoy the story Enger provides. The miracles are nothing but miracles—all at once magical and seamlessly occurring in a realistic setting. That being said, Peace like a River accomplishes exactly the opposite of what true magical realism aims to accomplish. If magical realism sets out to be “invested with a social and cultural mission,” as Durix speaks about, as well as having a strong conviction to deal with problems that face a certain culture, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” obviously attains this. Peace like a River achieves nothing more or less than it clearly states. It is not interested in the communal, as Durix would suggest magical realism to be, but instead with the individual (81). Marquez is speaking for an entire culture; Enger is reaching out to the individual that they might take away from this story what they will. Both are valid. Both are magical and realistic. But one is magical realism. And never the ‘twain shall meet.

Did it live up to my expectations?  Yes and no.  Let's start with the "no."  Peace Like a River is an exceptionally spiritual book and faith is really at the center of the story.  In fact, so much so that I thought that was Enger's "thing" and therefore expected the same thing in this book. 

So Brave, Young and Handsome isn't a spiritual book in the same way that Peace Like a River is.  However, while Enger's first book was about faith, his second is about redemption.  The gist of the story is that an old outlaw journeys to see his former wife, whom he practically abandoned 40 or so years before, to apologize.  And, he takes a writer afflicted with writer's block with him (I can only wonder--there was quite a deal of time between these two books.  Could Monte, the writer, be Enger's autobiographical character). 

I've given both books to my Studmuffin to read.  However, I would recommend starting with this book.  It is a quiet book--more so than Peace Like a River and, due to that, I think that it can be easily overshadowed by its predecessor.  Taken on its own credit, however, So Brave, Young and Handsome is a work of art.  As I said, it's a quiet book and it requires a patient reader, so I wouldn't recommend it to everyone.  However, if you are the sort of person who loves character and tends to savor books rather than power through them, pick this one up.

Author: Leif Enger

Summary:
To the list of great American child narrators that includes Huck Finn and Scout Finch, let us now add Reuben "Rube" Land, the asthmatic 11-year-old boy at the center of Leif Enger's remarkable first novel, Peace Like a River. Rube recalls the events of his childhood, in small-town Minnesota circa 1962, in a voice that perfectly captures the poetic, verbal stoicism of the northern Great Plains. "Here's what I saw," Rube warns his readers. "Here's how it went. Make of it what you will." And Rube sees plenty.

In the winter of his 11th year, two schoolyard bullies break into the Lands' house, and Rube's big brother Davy guns them down with a Winchester. Shortly after his arrest, Davy breaks out of jail and goes on the lam. Swede is Rube's younger sister, a precocious writer who crafts rhymed epics of romantic Western outlawry. Shortly after Davy's escape, Rube, Swede, and their father, a widowed school custodian, hit the road too, swerving this way and that across Minnesota and North Dakota, determined to find their lost outlaw Davy. In the end it's not Rube who haunts the reader's imagination, it's his father, torn between love for his outlaw son and the duty to do the right, honest thing. Enger finds something quietly heroic in the bred-in-the-bone Minnesota decency of America's heartland. Peace Like a River opens up a new chapter in Midwestern literature. --Claire Dederer (taken from Amazon.com)

Positive Elements: This book is has an original plot and unique characters. What a change from the standard novels you find in bookstores today. The author uses rich and descriptive language that enable the reader to actually believe a sometimes unbelievable story. Though not classified as Christian fiction, themes of religion, faith and prayer play an integral part of the story. There are many allusions to the miracles of Jesus Christ. The book reads like the author's memoir and its hard to believe otherwise.

Sexual Content: None

Violent Content: In the beginning of the book there is a brief scene of violence between the older brother and a pair of intruders in the house. It is not particularly graphic.

Profanity: None I recall

Drug Content: None

Conclusion: I loved this book. I applaud the author for being willing to include Biblical themes in a secular book. There are many references to Biblical stories and miracles. For instance at one time the family is feeding some guests in the home and there doesn't seem to be enough food to feed everyone. Everytime the daughter, Swede returns to the stove the pot of soup seems to be full. Faith is a major underlying theme throughout the book. Jeremiah Land, the father, appears to be a strong Christian man who makes decisions based on his own faith in God. His children, although sometimes with blind faith, follow him on their journey. They are never sure of what lies ahead. The story is similar to the way we follow Christ. Never knowing whats ahead but trusting the He knows the best way for us. The only negative I could give this this book is that the author's descripive language draws out the story a little longer than needed.

Leif Enger, Peace Like a River (Atlantic Monthly Press, 2002).
As part of the Columbia Spectator's 50 States of Literature series, Melanie Jones writes:

Few contemporary novels better capture the beauty and cruelty of the North Dakota Badlands than [this one]. Reuben Land was a still-born baby, brought back to life by his father, Jeremiah, in one of many "miracles" he performs throughout the novel. Now 11 and severely asthmatic, Reuben and his sister Swede live in a 1960s Minnesota town, both devoted to the Old West and stories of Sunny Sundown, a rugged adventurer. When their brother Davy is convicted of manslaughter, however, the siblings' notions of guilt and justice are challenged-and when Davy escapes to the Badlands, the family decides to follow him. Enger lends great detail to the "great empty" barns, "paintless and built of square-hewn timbers," as well as the "snow ... hard and clean-shaven and the broken hills [rising] on top of it." More than the civilization that has attempted to force itself upon the land, Enger captures the terrible beauty of that land untamed-generations ago, lightning had sliced a cottonwood whose roots led to lignite, and the result is a "garden of fire," a maze of veined earth with "smoke and heat and sporadic flames" issuing from the cracks. Later, when Reuben sees the Dakota night for the first time: "Here was the whole dizzying sky above us. ... We were inside the sky." . . .

Google Book Search has an excerpt. Here is another excerpt. Here is one interview of Enger, and another. And another, with Jody Ewing. Here are reviews from Tom Isern of North Dakota State University, David Abrams (January), Katherine Dieckmann (The New York Times Book Review), Jenny Spadafora (12frogs), Jana Siciliano (Bookreporter.com), Renee, Matt Jones, and Bradley Mariska (Offenburger.com). Nicole Eckblad did this project based on the novel for her communications class. And Minnesota Public Radio, where Enger used to work, has this story about him with a brief interview and some additional links.

Buy it at Amazon.com.

- Leif Enger, author of Peace Like a River, came to Gordon last Thursday to talk about the writing process, and about his book. All of the freshmen here were required to read it (I am sure that at least half of them did...) as part of the Freshmen Seminar course I (and several others) teach. While there are many other directions I would have loved for him to take, he focused his lecture on writing as entertainment, and the value it plays in entertaining the reader. One comment he made, which I can see in the development of his characters, is that entertainment is meant to expose one to the "bigger picture." And in the exposure to the big picture, three things happen:

1) You realize how small you are

2) You realize that everyone is the same size as you

3) Your empathy and gratitude for the other is increased.

Like your novel, Mr. Enger, this is well stated and rings true.

- On Sunday, I ran the Hyannis half marathon with a friend. This was a delight not just for the completion of the task and the subsequent endorphin boost, but for the conversation that accompanied the 2-hour-each-way drive. Our conversation ranged from running to the Quaker view of sacraments - what more could there be to talk about!! - and it was a blessing to be able to wrestle with these issues as pre-race jitters overwhelmed us and post-race fatigue beset us.

(Insert soapbox) You should run! If there is one thing I am continually amazed with it is the diversity that arrives each race-day morning at the starting line. Old, young, big, little, fast, slow. It is, as my friend Heather continually describes it, the "great cloud of witnesses." Running can feel so isolating when you hit the road by yourself or with a few friends each day, and then - boom - you show up for a race and out of the seeming woodwork come runners of all shapes and sizes. It is encouraging and it is fun. You should run! (Remove soapbox)

- New blogging friend Zach Alexander accepted my forwarded meme, something it seems he does not do often. Bravo, Zach!

- AJ brought up forgotten memories in her response to the meme. Thanks, AJ. That is what old friends are for...

- Finally, I plan this week, as fellow blogger Wess has recently done, to post my reading list for the year. Feel free to send along suggestions!
Peace.

Here is a little blurb about the book...

"Peace like River is the story of a father raising his three children in the 1960s in Minnesota.  It is at once a heroic quest, a tregedy, a love story, and a haunting meditation on the possibility of miricles in the everyday world...

Eleven-year-old Reuben Land was born with no air in his lungs, and it was only when his father Jeremiah, picked him up and commanded him to breathe that his lungs filled.  Reuben struggles with debilitating asthma from then on, making him a boy who knows firsthand what life is a ift, and also one who suspects his father is touched by God and can overturn the laws of nature.

The family ends up traveling across the Badlands in search of Reuben's older brother Davy.  It is sprinkled with playful nods to biblical tales, beloved classics such as Huckleberry Finn,  the adventure stories of Robert Louis Stevenson, and the westerns of Zane Grey.  The story unfolds like a revelation."

Not only is the story great, it is very well written.