I received a digital ARC of this title from the author, in exchange for an open and honest review.
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There is a common thread that runs through towns, communities. Whether by choice, or by the sheer pressure of the movement of time, Communities forget. The remains of the dead, their deeds and desires, are washed away, buried in the mud of history. In that immense, long, river of time. Anyone who has had the occasion to visit a town or county’s “museum of local history”, can see the end result. What remains are pale echoes. The selective memory and cultural amnesia of the present, work to ensure that the incongruities of history stay forgotten, and the acts of folks both terrible and disbursing are never known. But just as things discarded in the river eventually are found, the full and ugly truth of the past inevitably resurfaces, regardless of whether it clashes with the fictions successive generations have propagated. The Boatman is about what happens when that terrible reckoning, finally comes pass.
There is a sense of place, a psychic foot print evident in the towns from the plains westward, in North America. K. Bengston, seems to recognize that. Potter’s Field feels like so many small hamlets in the plains, who today are found only in photographs, or the crumbling store fronts of whistle stop towns, long abandoned by the rail lines. The Boatman is truly a first novel of note. A narrative both firmly rooted in the poisoned core of American History, yet still rooted deeper in that place beyond light that resides in ourselves, and within that limitless place beyond the firelight. Call it Western, Historic, Cosmic and existential. It is Horror, and it is rushing towards you in the wake of The Boatman.