The Signal Flame: A Novel

by Andrew Krivak

The stunning second novel from National Book Award finalist Andrew Krivák—“an extraordinarily elegant writer, with a deep awareness of the natural world” (The New York Times Book Review)—tells the heartbreaking, captivating story about a family awaiting the return of their youngest son from the Vietnam War.

In a small town in northeastern Pennsylvania, Hannah and her son Bo mourn the loss of the family patriarch, Jozef. They were three generations under one roof; a war-haunted family in a war-torn century. Jozef was conscripted into the Austro-Hungarian army in World War I. His American-born daughter’s husband, Bexhet, an immigrant, fights in World War II—returning to Dardan, Pennsylvania, only to be taken in a hunting accident on Hannah’s family’s land. Finally, Hannah’s younger son, Sam, goes MIA in Vietnam.

And so there is only Bo, a quiet man full of sorrow and conviction and a firstborn’s sense of duty. He is left to grieve but also to hope for reunion, to fall in love and create a new life, to embrace the land and work its mountain soil. The Signal Flame is a stirring exploration—the second stand-alone novel in a trilogy that began with the National Book Award finalist The Sojourn—of generations of men and the events that define them, brothers who take different paths, the old European values yielding to new world ways, and the convalescence of memory and war.

Beginning shortly after Easter in 1972 and ending on Christmas Eve—as the Vietnam War winds down—this ambitious novel honors the cycles of earth and body, humming with blood and passion, and it confirms as a writer of extraordinary vision and power. Andrew Krivák’s The Signal Flame is “a complex and layered portrait of a time and place, and a family shaped, generation after generation, by the memory of war” (The Boston Globe).

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, War, Literary Fiction, Historical, Book Club, Literature

273 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 24, 2017

About the author

The grandson of Slovak immigrants, Andrew Krivak grew up in Pennsylvania, has lived in London, and has taught at Harvard, Boston College, and the College of the Holy Cross. He lives with his wife and three children in Somerville, Massachusetts and Jaffrey, New Hampshire.

Reviews

[Larry H · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well, looks like I've read my first truly great novel of 2017! It took two books last year, it's taken seven this year, but clearly it was worth the wait. Bleak yet hopeful, poignant, and powerful, The Signal Flame is beautifully written and draws you into its story fairly quickly.

In early 1972 in Northeastern Pennsylvania's Endless Mountains, Jozef Vinich, the patriarch of a small family, is laid to rest. The former owner of the town mill, Jozef was known not only for his rags-to-riches story, immigrating from the Austro-Hungarian part of Europe after World War I to make a life for himself, and eventually his family, but he is also known for his strong work ethic, as well as his sense of humor. He is mourned by many in the community, including his priest, who was also his best friend, but especially his daughter Hannah and his grandson Bo Konar, who bought the mill from Jozef a number of years ago.

Jozef, Hannah, and Bo all lived together, as the life of the Konar family wasn't quite a happy one. Hannah's husband, Bexhet (Becks), emigrated from Hungary to fight with the Americans during World War II, but deserted and spent time in prison. He never got over what he saw during the war, and when he returned home he was changed, until his sudden death in a hunting accident on the family land. Apart from one semester away for college, Bo has spent his lifetime working the mill, but his younger brother Sam was always the one who wanted something different, so he enlisted in the military, and on his second tour of duty in Vietnam, went missing.

As bleak as I've made the book sound, and there are moments of tragedy and moments of loss, this is equally a book about finding hope where you've believed there was none, of realizing that there is a time to let go of the grief and anger you feel, and of allowing yourself a chance at happiness. This is a book about family, about the legacies of land and emotion and anger that we bequeath to our children, and about the simple joys of nature, the smell of lumber, the sounds of wildlife.

In another author's hands this book could be maudlin, or the simplicity of its story could be boring. But in Andrew Krivak's hands, this book is almost poetic, in its use of language and its evocative imagery, in the characters he has created. Here's just one example of the beauty of his storytelling:

And when they were finished, they sat at the garden table in the twilight and watched the coals of the fire pulse red and an ashen silver without flame, sat like sated guests at their own feast, silent once again and not wondering what came next, for all that they had strived for in the course of the day lay in the past, and what anxiety each carried lay, at least for the moment, in the past as well.

This is a special book which I can't get out of my mind. I know that when I begin thinking of the best books I read in 2017, this will undoubtedly be one of them.

NetGalley and Scribner provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

See all of my reviews at http://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blo..., or see my list of the best books I read in 2016 at http://itseithersadnessoreuphoria.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-best-books-i-read-in-2016.html.

[Canadian Jen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was exquisite. A beautiful, understated, quiet story. About waiting...about life.

This story continues with Josef's family - his daughter and grandsons. One who has gone missing in the Vietnam war and the other left waiting for news of his return. There is much sadness and suffering but also a flame of hope.

Krivak's writing is soothing and healing as he takes us on this journey of a mother and son who have experienced loss. And a girl who becomes part of their family having suffered her own losses.
An eloquently simple read that has left me feeling I'm part of this story; of these characters. The descriptions eerily real as I felt apart of the dense forest with the leaves crackling beneath my own feet as I witnessed these lives.

I read The Sojourn just a couple of weeks ago in anticipation of this one and the next in this series. It was well written but bleak.

This was an easy 5***** and a feeling of longing for the next. Going on my favourites list.

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 5 out of 5]

As I finished this wonderful book I realized that it is this type of quiet novel that makes the biggest impression, leaving me with a surfeit of emotions I need to process. There are no big flashy car chases, or hunts for a killer, just a family with all the hidden layers that this entails. Heartaches, deaths, and there are plenty of both, but a great deal of love for each other and for the land. A quiet appreciation of what they have been given. Beautiful descriptions of their environment and many details about what being an owner of a sawmill entails. The story takes place in the seventies and the Vietnam War has wreaked havoc on this small family, leaving one neither dead nor alive.

Just small details of a family living their lives, but so brilliantly and poignantly written. Bittersweet and melancholy, but always hope for a better time, a better day. Wonderful characters that one can't help but take into their hearts. Strong people that have weathered much more than that which should have to ne weathered, an yet they stay strong, pull together and love each other, are their for each other.

If you love the novels of the late Ken Haruf, and Mary Lawson, I believe you will love this story and his first, The Sojourn which is also about this same family. The ending leads to the third book that will make up this trilogy.

ARC from publisher.
Releases tomorrow, January 24th.

[Karen · Rating 5 out of 5]

Update: so excited... I went to this author's website, and contacted his publicity person, and this was the 2nd installment of a trilogy!! Now we will get to know what happens next!! Loved this book!

What a beautiful, quiet, and atmospheric novel set in Pennsylvania's Endless Mountains, beginning in 1972, of a family waiting for their lost family member who has gone missing from the Vietnam war. I loved the relationships and the characters in this book.
I highly recommend!!!

Thank you to Netgalley, Simon & Schuster, and author Andrew Krivak for the ARC

[Angela M · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I read The Sojourn several years ago and first encountered Jozef Vinich, a young man, who leaves Colorado, returns to Austria-Hungary, fought in WWI, and returned to America, I had no idea that I would be fortunate enough to meet him again. This time knowing how his life turned out, how he became a hard working, diligent, man of honor, who builds a life and a place for his family. When I started this book I was at once powerfully reminded of the beautiful writing in the first. I've said it many times - these books with quiet , subtle storytelling are my kind of books and it is true here with language that demands your presence in the lives of these characters and defies you to be there in this place in Pennsylvania rather than anywhere else. Simply beautiful.

Jozef is already dead by the time this novel begins but it is through his daughter Hannah and his grandson Bo that the reader comes to know about Jozef's life and his legacy. It's Hannah's story, too, a story of grief and a grudge held, about how two other wars changed her life. She loses her husband who is shot in the woods by a hunter, but in reality, she had already lost him when he returned from the war a broken man. In 1972 when this story begins, it's the Vietnam war that changes her life as she endures the grueling waiting, waiting to hear something about her youngest son Sam who is missing in action. It's Bo's story, too. Hannah's eldest son shares the grueling wait with his mother for word on his brother. Bo too has known grief with the loss of someone he loved. In Bo, we see a lot of who Jozef was - honorable men tied to their land, and their families because they knew that is where they belonged. It's Ruth's story too. Ruth is the young woman, daughter of the man who killed Hannah's husband and left behind by Sam. She too will endure much loss and grief.

This ultimately is a story of acceptance, love and forgiveness. Highly recommended to anyone who loved The Sojourn. Even if you haven't read it, I highly recommend this one anyway for the beautifully told story that it is. If you haven't read the first book, you shouldn't shy away from this one, it can stand on it's own. Andrew Krivak has become one of those writers who holds a place in my literary heart.

I received an advanced copy of this from Scribner through Edelweiss.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

The writing is tranquil ....
I was drawn into the story quickly, and was soon heartbroken for the character, Sam, who was MIA in Vietnam.
Hannah, described Sam - (her son), "as a restless cat" when he was little....always on the go.
He was very different from his older brother, Bo, who was happy reading or spending time in his grandfathers woodshop.

I thought about Bo a lot in this novel - and the role he contributed in this family.
Bo never went to war. He left for University- falls in love with a woman named Ann Dvorak -- but when she dies, before he gets his degree, he can't imagine going back to school without her. He wants to be back home helping care for his mom--and holding his own working on the land.
There is a powerful dialogue- conversation between Bo and his grandfather about loss associated with a decision towards his future. I was trying to work out the lesson in my own head for reasons Bo should go back to school - or the reasons for staying with his family working on the land - rather than complete his degree. I found the dialogue enlightening-- shifting my own thinking - back & forth a couple of times... until I had a larger realization. STOP PROJECTING MY RIGHTEOUS VALUES ... and look FRESHLY!
His grandfather says, "You are both lessened and left behind. There's nothing to be done but the work that's been given, so the part of you that's lessened doesn't become lost as well".
There is more to this conversation - but the point is made. Sam knows what's best for him.

Everyone in this family is experiencing loss. ( which nobody is new to, but some loss is just unbearable).
Every day the Konar family is on edge wanting news -good news- about Sam. They are each grieving- in their own way- they go about their daily chores. Bo tries to be the peace maker between his mother and Sam's fiancé who is pregnant, too. There's a lot of tragedy to morn in this family. Their situations feel so real and somehow we understand that they will get through their days --- the same ways we have when chronic grief becomes normal in our daily lives. We survive because we must.

Bo became the owner of the mill by 1970. And even as the owner, he still worked every job from shoveling shavings into the kiln furnace in the months when they were shorthanded because no high school kid wanted the job. Bo did the work that needed to be done: period!

The imagery is rich and eloquent in the small mountain town in Darden, Pennsylvania... from cutting wood in the lumber mill, slicing glass for a broken window, to the smell of the pine trees all around.
The prose is gorgeous......and the juxtaposition of complex relationships further enriches this generational tapestry.

Thank You Scribner, Netgalley, and Andrew Krivak

[Cheri · Rating 5 out of 5]

!! NOW AVAILABLE !!

4.5 Stars

This quiet and peaceful novel is lovely despite the harsh landscape, and sweet, despite the hatred born of a long-standing feud over land. Beauty and love shine through the characters, their actions.
In a way this was reminiscent of Kent Haruf’s McPheron brothers love and caring for the young, pregnant, Victoria. The quiet, giving way of someone who knows no other way to be.

Set in a small town of Darden, Pennsylvania, as the spring of 1972 begins, Hannah and Bo are mourning the passing of Hannah’s father, the family patriarch, Jozef Vinich. Hannah’s two sons are by her deceased husband, Bexhet Konar, killed in a hunting accident years before.

Vinich left Europe after WWI for the Endless Mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania, in the northeast corner of the state. Rocky, rough countryside, and a harder life than most await those who call this place home. Konar had left Europe after WWII. A hardscrabble life for most here, but Bo Konar, Hannah’s oldest son, has been lucky with his business. He is the son that has his grandfather’s work ethic, who is tireless in his vision for this land he’s inherited. Responsible.

Hannah’s other son, Bo’s younger brother Sam is in Vietnam. MIA.

And so, they wait. Wait for word. Something. Anything.

The story unfolds so slowly and evenly, I found myself reading this through the same rhythm and pace as Redford’s narration of McLean’s “A River Runs Through It.” Slowly disclosing how the hardships of this life shape whom these men become, how their lives unfold little by little, day by day. Mistake by mistake. There’s really nothing extraordinary about them, or their lives. They live. They grieve. They cherish each other, each day, they hold tight to memories in the night. They endure. They wait.

Lovely, heartbreaking, with lives and stories that seem so very real.


Pub Date: 24 Jan 2017

Many thanks for the ARC provided by Scribner, NetGalley and author Andrew Krivák

[Esil · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Signal Flame was one of those quiet reads -- well written, slow paced, more about characters, place and atmosphere than plot. The story takes place on a farm in rural Pennsylvania in the 1970s. It starts with the death of patriarch Jozef, leaving his middle aged daughter Hannah and adult grandson Bo on the farm. Bo's brother Sam is missing in Vietnam. This is a family with a history of tragedies, tragedies heavily affected by WWI, WWII and the Vietnam war, and by old family resentments. The story takes place over a few months after Jozef's death, frequently delving into the family's past, and in the present focused on the aftermath of Jozef's death and the uncertainty left by Sam's disappearance. Despite the tragedies -- and with one notable exception -- this is not a dramatic book. It's more of a contemplative book -- a story of strong decent people making a life out of difficult circumstances through their ties to nature, to each other and to their community. It's a quietly moving book. Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an opportunity to read an advance copy.

A note to that GR friend who doesn't like books that don't use quotation marks -- you know who you are -- this is one of those books. In fact, within the scope of a single paragraph the narrative drifts in and out of dialogue without quotation marks. I thought it worked beautifully, but don't expect it will work for everyone.

[Margitte · Rating 5 out of 5]

My first thought, after closing this book, was about the serene, atmospheric, tone and setting. How the author wrote a story without excessive drama and cruelty to commemorate a century of war and get the exact same message delivered as the violent, traumatic equivalents in the war-genres. There is an undercurrent of sadness flowing through the narrative, yet a movement of hope, like small insignificant waves, softly breaking over the main current. There was enough tense moments, and heartbreaking scenes, to embed this tale in the history of humanity at its best and worse.

A strong Kent Haruf ambiance fills the tale of Jozef Vinich and the four generations of this family, who were victims of several wars and had to prosper despite of their experiences. Jozef Vinich's passing concluded a long story of endurance and determination to find a place of safety for his family and descendants. That place was the Endless Mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania. Hannah, his daughter, and her oldest son, Bo, mourn his passing, as well as the disappearance of her youngest son, Sam, who were declared MIA in Vietnam. Bo inherited the mill and the business in the 1970s and as oldest son had to take care of his widowed mother and Sam's fiancé.

Hannah also endured the accidental killing of her husband Bexhet Konar, in a hunting accident years before. And then she was confronted with Sam's choice of bride, Ruth Younger, the daughter of the man, Paul Younger, who shot Hannah's husband.

There were people who could not forgive or forget. There were land deals that could not be forgotten, and then there was dignity and honor to uphold. And then there was the longing and the waiting ...

The story reminds me of the tranquil styles of Anne Tyler, Kent Haruf, Norman Maclean, and Richard Russo's.

The Signal Flame by Andrew Krivák takes the reader on a down-to-earth, slow pace through the emotional warfare of a family, living in a picturesque landscape, where the reader is as much at home in the wild calmness of forests and streams as the inhabitants of the beautiful land.

I really enjoyed this novel. Due to other obligations I was unable to do it in one sitting, but that made it a much more pleasant and heartfelt read. I haven't read the first novel, which was based on the life of Jozef Vinich, surviving WWI in Europe. I can only assume that a trilogy might be in store, with this novel introducing the aftermath of Jozef Vinich's settlement in America and the family and fortune he was able to built.

I can recommend this book to anyone who enjoy this existential realism of honest, gentle characters in all their daily mediocrity, but with a heartfelt story to tell, like everyone else. It is suitable for the reader who enjoys reality, without the bling and superficial pretentiousness of so many others. It is a story about 'real' people, and I loved every moment.

I want to thank Netgalley, Scribner, and Andrew Krivák for the opportunity to review this book. The 272 pages were just perfect!

[Debra · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars

I usually know what I want to say when I being a review. This book is harder for me to say something about. I find myself sitting in quiet contemplation while thinking about what to write and it occurs to me that this is how I see this book - a quiet contemplation on one family's life, their suffering, their loss, and their ability to rebuild.

This beautifully written book begins when the family patriarch, Jozef Vinich has died. His daughter, Hannah and his grandson, Bo Konar are sitting with the body. Their family has known loss. Jozef Vinich, a World War I Veteran who returned to America in search of a better life for himself. He is know for his work ethic, his humor and his commitment to his family. He is mourned by his mil workers, the community, his close friend (and his priest), and his family.

Jozef's daughter Hannah married Bexhet Konar who emigrated from Hungary and fought with the Americans in World War II. The killing and war were too much for him and he became a deserter and spend several years in prison for his crime of desertion. When he returns home to The Endless Mountains in Pennsylvania, he is a changed man. He is quiet and takes long walks in the woods. One day he is tragically killed while walking in the woods by a hunter.

Hannah Konar raises their two sons - Sam and Bo with the assistance of her Father Jozef. Both boys are different. Sam cannot wait to experience life. He begins a relationship with the daughter of the man who accidentally shot his father. That does not go over well. Then he serves in Vietnam and then re-enlists to go back to Vietnam where he is declared missing in action. Bo Konar decided to go to college where he fell in love but dropped out after his girlfriend was killed in an accident. He returns home to help his mother with the farm and purchases the Mil from his grandfather.

Seriously at this point, I was thinking "what more can one family take?" Seriously there is so much loss and grief. But this family lives in a time of war and loss is inevitable. They do find a way to go on. Theirs is a quiet strength. They find a way to keep moving and keep living. This is not the end of their loses; however, there is more to come. I wont give any more of the plot away.. so read this book for yourself.

I will say that I am from Pennsylvania. My hometown was actually mentioned in this book as were several other towns that I know so well. To say that it was EASY to visualize the forest, the mountains and the terrain was an understatement. I saw their farm as I saw my family's farm. I saw the clouds and fog rising off the mountains. I have walked those woods - maybe not the woods in the book - but I had such a feeling of familiarity while reading this. It was surreal.

I love how the story unfolded. Is this a book about loss? YES. But it is also a book about family, about what makes you a family, about love, about acceptance, about strength, about community, about grief, about love, about loss, about hope and about happiness. Life does go on as they say and this family finds a way to go on, to allow themselves to experience happiness in spite of the grief.

After reading this book, I learned that this is the second in the series of 3 books. I will definitely be reading the first book, "Soujourn" which is about Jozef Vinich.

This book is not a page turner, there is not big REVEAL, no HUGE plot twist at the end. What the reader has is a beautifully written book about family, about community, and day to day life. When I finished the book, I just sat with it in quiet contemplation. I believe great books do that - they leave the reader pondering and thinking. I look forward to reading the next book. I highly recommend "The Signal Flame".

I received a copy of this book from the publisher and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

See more of my reviews at www.openbookpost.com

[Barbara · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The Signal Flame” is amazing in that it’s a bleak novel with a passive voice that is so beautifully written that I found it extraordinary. Author Andrew Krivak is exceptionally skilled at writing picture perfect sentences. The reader is there, smelling, seeing, and feeling the story.

It’s a story of the plague of war and how it affects the Vinich family in a small town in Pennsylvania. Three generations of Vinich have been battle weary. Patriarch Jozev Vinch endured through WWI; Bexhet Konar suffered through WWII, and Sam Vinich is a MIA Vietnam soldier that the family is awaiting his fate.

The protagonist, Bo Vinich is the son who escapes the brutality of war, yet is affected by the fates of war. His mother, Hannah, struggles with losing her father, Jozev, her husband Bexhet, while living the mother’s nightmare of having a son missing in action. The story takes place from Easter of 1972 to that Christmas. It’s a story of struggle and forgiveness. It’s a story of family heritage and what binds family.

As previously stated, this is a bleak story, which I tend to avoid and not finish. The writing is exquisite and I found it difficult to put down. It will be on the “Best of 2017” lists. Thank you Esil for reviewing and recommending this one!

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

In this elegiac novel, Andrew Krivak asks an important question: how do we cope with our unthinkable losses and carefully craft a meaningful life with the aftermath?

Hannah and her son Bo, who manages a roughing mill in the Wilkes-Barre area of Pennsylvania, are good Catholics who have had bad things happen to them. Hannah’s husband – Bo’s father – was inadvertently killed in a hunting accident by a neighbor, Paul Younger. Bo’s brother, Sam, is MIA in Vietnam; he left behind a pregnant fiancée named Ruth, who just happens to be Paul Younger’s daughter.

In ways, the book can be read as a thinly-veiled parable. In the bible, Ruth – a Moabite -- married into a Hebrew family. A model of loving-kindness, Ruth accompanies her mother-in-law to a foreign land, playing a key role in Naomi’s rehabilitation. There she meets Boaz in the field. After overcoming the obstacle of having a relative with a stronger claim (the Mosaic requirements in Deuteronomy), Boaz takes Ruth as his wife.

In The Signal Flame, Ruth may seem like a secondary character to Bo, but she the pivotal one, whose purpose it to heal the sadness, anger, and emptiness of mother and son. She and she alone will, through fortuitous and heart rendering circumstances, will be in the position to lead them to a sense of peace. Beginning during the Easter season and ending on Christmas, the novel is meant to convey a sense of rebirth and hope.

This is a quiet novel that eschews the bells and whistles in favor of insightful looks into the human condition and the ordinary moments of daily life. As such, it calls to mind books by Marilynne Robinson. It demands the reader’s absorption and concentration. It is the second book of the trilogy that began with The Sojourn, and the ending had me positively clamoring to read the final installation.

[Trish · Rating 5 out of 5]

Krivak takes his own blessed time when telling stories. His novels are quiet, but not especially slow; they are full of drama, generations of crises. It has been five years since the publication of Krivak’s quietly spectacular first novel, The Sojourn, which followed the sharpshooter Jozef Vinich during World War I. This book, it turns out, follows Vinich’s family, based now in the hill country of northeastern Pennsylvania, where they run a mill.

War and its opposite, peace, are inescapable twin themes running through Krivak’s work, lacing the generations together. We are introduced to the Irishman silversmith who landed penurious in New York, only to be conscripted into the Union army, fighting at Gettysburg, one of the last men standing. Afterward he built a snug and comfortable house that lasted well, uninhabited, for many years until it again became a happy home.

Jozef’s grandson Sam goes to Vietnam, a corporal, and is missing in action. But Sam had the noticing, or attention, gene that Jozef had exploited in the earlier conflict to keep himself alive: “Just movement like the breeze, except there was no breeze that day.” No one wants to believe Sam is dead. His brother and mother hold the fort at home, missing him, waiting for him to come back one day.

The family history is complicated, threads overlapping and woven into the fabric of that small area where everyone knew everyone else. But Krivak patiently and clearly relates the relevant histories with their attendant tragedies and small successes until those histories are as clear as our own. When, in the final pages, Hannah stands near the corner of her land and finds a smooth-barked beech with the generations of family carved into its side, we know just who is being described. JV + HP, BK + HV, BK + AD, SK + RY, each set of carving clearer in its presence on the tree’s skin. What is so remarkable is how long the family lasted in that place, without moving or shipping anchor, and the violence done to the dreams of each in that place one might think of as sleepy, or otherwise passed by.

The attention to language, to the unhurried unfurling of a long-form mystery, is Krivak’s special skill. We often ask the question, “how did this happen?” but we rarely have the patience to hear the answer. Krivak makes it interesting enough that listening is no chore, recalling as it does the lives of each of us in its moments of kismet and inevitability, love and violence, birth and death.

What I liked best, perhaps, was the genuine kindness even in the confusion among people. There is no triumphalism over the indignities of failure, but neither is there any abnegation of responsibility. These Americans accept responsibility for their forefather’s actions, strive to understand, and be better for any mistakes made. They are capable of change, of understanding, and forgiveness. It is a remarkably uplifting fiction, despite the difficulties each family undergoes.

One of the more delicious descriptions in the book is the occasion of a day trip to West Virginia from northeast Pennsylvania. Despite nothing out of the ordinary happening, we greet this part of the story with the excitement children might feel when told of a trip away. Krivak’s descriptions thrill us with their clarity and accuracy: we know of whom he writes.

Another description that catches a moment perfectly is this description of Sam's brother Bo fishing with the parish priest, whom Bo wanted to ask for advice:

"They split up on the stream, Bo took the faster water up top and fished with a muddler minnow. Father Rovnávaha worked a black ant in a lower pool where brookies were rising to terrestrials. In all this time from house to stream, they had said no more than five words to each other."

They sat streamside on rocks for a coffee break, Bo walking to the edge to pick a mayfly off a stone. They'd been using the wrong flies. Then Bo broached the topic that was troubling him.

There is no sensationalism here. Krivak writes about a time long gone, fifty and more years ago. It is a small, almost private novel, about making a wooden hutch for someone as a Christmas present, and when placed in their home, “looks like it had always been here.” The fiction has something of that inevitable feel, as though it weren’t made-up at all, but memoir, and deeply felt. These are beautifully written and constructed novels, and there is room for more, if Krivak wanted to move into the controversies of a modern-day novel. I’d read anything he decides to write.

[Ron · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Signal Flame is a beautiful portrayal of one family dealing with the Missing-in-action status of a loved one during the Vietnam War. The beauty is in the ways they hold on to hope, continue to live in the face of hardship, and find the corners of their hearts where there are places for forgiveness. Even though a large majority of the plot does not pertain to the missing son, the quiet grief keeps it in the forefront, and the questions of his fate cast a shadow upon his older brother, his mother and the girlfriend he left behind.

In its way this story is a comment about war, and so I think about it. I think about the impact it has on the individual and their families.

Also, there is an obvious love for the small town and the mountains of this area, seen distinctly through the descriptions on these pages. I’ve been in those mountains, having lived in Eastern Pennsylvania for a short time. Krivak paints a picture that I can recall clearly, as if it was on canvas before me. No doubt all readers will experience that, whether you’ve seen the place or not. And it is not just those hills that jump from the page, but also the people that inhabit them. They are tangible, and so is what they experienced. Lastly, I found here that no matter the distance, or circumstance, the dearest people in our lives are never far from us.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

A quiet, understated book about the connection of neighboring families to the land and to each other. There is is subtlety to this book that is connecting with most readers; however, I must not have been in the right frame of mind at the time as read it (normally these are the types of books I adore). Instead of relishing the gorgeous prose I did find myself wishing the author would "get on with it". It could have been the lack of quotation marks, which I found to be a distraction, rather than an enhancement to the story.

3.5 stars rounded up to 4.

Thank you to Scribner and NetGalley for a galley of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 5 out of 5]

Restoration

Finding yourself is hard, Hannah. Finding yourself in a war is very hard. You have to let him walk the path he chose.

Having now read both his novels so far, this one and its predecessor The Sojourn, I would suggest that Andrew Krivák's abiding theme is restoration. In the earlier novel, a Bildungsroman set mainly in the First World War, the leading character, Jozef Vinich, goes through the war as a killer, but the more interesting part for me was the year after the war, when he must find his humanity again, restoring the damage he has done to himself and, in part, to others. In this one, set nominally in 1972 but with memories going back to Jozef Vinich's return to America half a century earlier, the restoration is as much geographic and generational as it is personal. It is a more complex but less eventful novel. Personally, I found it less focused and liked it slightly less, but I am filled with admiration for Krivák as a storyteller and philosopher.

Facts. The novel opens with the wake for old Jozef, who has finally died. He is survived by is daughter Hannah and grandson Bohumir (Bo) Konar, who now runs the family roughing mill in the mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania. Bo's father Box Konar fought in WW2 but was killed in a hunting accident on the family lands. Bo's younger brother Sam is missing in action in Vietnam; his fiancée Ruth Younger is pregnant with his child. These are only a few of the many tragedies that Krivák references in the novel; one of the minor criticisms I would hold against him is his penchant for piling death on death. But then, I suppose, there cannot be restoration without damage to be restored. In this case, the deepest rift is that between two families: the Vinich/Konars and the Youngers. Jozef Vinich took a choice piece of Younger land; Paul Younger shot Box Konar; that the first was an legitimate commercial transaction and the second an accident does not lessen the capacity for resentment, and the inability of Sam Konar to take care of Ruth Younger makes things even harder. Over the course of the novel, Bo will fix up an old house built on the former Younger lands, and the story of what happens to Ruth is the major strand in the plot. Both are rites of love and rituals of restoration.

From the day Bo had walked into the house in May, he understood how it had been built, whom it had been built for, and he wanted to keep that spirit of the place alive, even if not one of the Youngers who lived there back in the twenties was around to see it. The old wide-board pine floors were refinished and glowing a soft shade of gold beneath the grain. The walls were painted natural linen. The window frames and fireplace mantel he had varnished to match the floors, and the slate hearth was repointed and polished so that the thin rust-colored veins and slight green hue of the stones shone like the day they were put down.

Andrew Krivák tells intimate stories, but he sets them in larger, almost epic time frames. The Sojourn follows Jozef Vinich from childhood through adolescence to young adulthood, but it is preceded by a prelude set at the time of his birth, and the whole story is told as a memoir of a much older man. Besides, the sheer scale of WW1 gives the book an almost mythic resonance. While Vietnam does not quite have that effect in The Signal Flame, the title and epigraph refer to the Trojan War, an image that is reinforced by many of the place names: Dardan, Pennsylvania, at the foot of Troy Pass. The long family feuds (which Krivák takes back even further) give this novel distinct overtones of Greek tragedy, though not ultimately with a tragic ending.

The Greeks wrote their epics and tragedies to explore religious ideas. Krivák trained as a Jesuit, and there are distinct religious overtones to his writing, both explicit and implied. Indeed, what is Christianity but the theology of restoration? The last quarter of The Sojourn follows Jozef as he accompanies a pregnant but unmarried gypsy girl until she gives birth; with lovely poetic justice, that child will reappear in the present book. I could not help thinking of Joseph and the Virgin Mary. We have another pregnancy come to term here, that of Ruth Younger carrying Sam Konar's baby; the entire novel spans a symbolic nine-month period of gestation, from early Easter to Christmas. Another reviewer, Jill Shtulman, points out the parallels with the Biblical Ruth, especially her growing friendship with Bo, which might equally be short for Boaz. Jill is certainly right, although too many of the details are different to make this a simple retelling. But this story is arguably the most important of the many layers of religious and epic references that make Krivák's writing so rich. I certainly find that Ruth's growing closeness to Hannah, the woman who would have been her mother-in-law, is one of the most beautiful—and restorative—aspects of the book.

One more time-frame, enigmatic and incomplete. The novel ends with a single paragraph in italics. It is not clear whether this is a genuine glimpse into the future, or merely a dream. While part of me would have liked the bow neatly tied on the restored fortunes of these two ravaged families, I was very interested in the possibility it raises for the third novel in the trilogy, and the suggestion of an even older Biblical parallel.

Solely because of its more diffuse focus and comparative lack of action, I would call this a 4.5 star book from a 5.5 star writer, though its quiet complexity may appeal to others more than me. So do read it, but I suggest trying The Sojourn first.

[Marilyn C. · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 Stars. A deep sense of family is evident as you read Andrew Krivak's The Signal Flame.

This book is a beautifully told story about the Vinich family, in rural Pennsylvania that has been shaped by generation after generation of war. They have suffered greatly and their story is filled with loss and sadness, but there is always an underlying theme of love and commitment to each other, their land and to other people in need.

On the back cover of this book Krivak's writing is compared to Kent Haruf's, with the prose being simple and honest. Sometimes you do not need excess words to deliver an outstanding and deeply moving story.

[Liz · Rating 4 out of 5]

I found The Signal Flame to be exquisitely written and vibrant with emotion. Family. Loss. Love. Healing. Home. These are some of the themes threaded throughout this beautiful and subtle story. I’ve read many reviews that say it far better than I can so I’m just going say, believe those readers who wrote deservedly glowing reports.

[Julie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I discovered Andrew Krivak with last year's post-apocalyptic fable The Bear and marveled that I had never heard tell of, much less read, his stirring stories and elegant prose. So on a snowy night during the Christmas holidays, I tucked into The Signal Flame, a grounded-in-the-recent-past novel of family and war.

Three generations of Vinich-Konars live in a remote town in northeastern Pennsylvania's Endless Mountains. Jozef Vinich, the patriarch (and central character of Krivak's debut, The Sojourn, which I will read this year) survived WWI battlefields, immigrated to America with $50 in his pocket, and eventually secured his family's future with land and co-ownership in a lumber mill. In 1972, when the story opens, Vinich has died, mourned deeply by his heirs, daughter Hannah Konar and grandson Bo. A second grandson, Sam, has been MIA in Vietnam for several months. Sam's fate — is he alive or are they hoping on a ghost? — is the central question of this novel and the sacrifices of war and of family the central themes.

Many years before, when Bo was a teen and Sam a young child, their father was killed in a hunting accident by a neighbor. It was a tragic end to a man who had already suffered so much: overcome by despair, he had abandoned his unit on France's battlefields and served time in prison as a deserter. Although he returned home, raised a family with Hannah and helped his father's business, his soul was broken by war. And in the end, his body was broken on the wrong end of a shotgun.

Hannah, his widow, is quietly furious when she realizes her younger son is in love with Ruth, the daughter of the man who shot her husband. There is no room for forgiveness, not even when she learns that Ruth is pregnant with Sam's child, conceived while Sam was on a brief leave. He returned to Vietnam for a second tour and immediately vanished, never knowing his forbidden love was carrying his child.

But this story is Bo's, the older son who remained behind to take over a business held together by a thread, tend to a once-thriving family farm that has diminished to a shadow of its abundant glory, and watch over a mother who seems to be standing only by the force of her quest to learn Sam's fate. Bo saves Ruth's life during a night of massive flooding in town and brings her home, challenging his mother's anger and hardened heart.

There is so much to love here. The story unfolds like a Russian matryoshka doll, layers of meaning revealed through rich central and secondary characters with great depth of emotional intelligence. The quiet unfolding of a family's rhythm with work, loss, and love is jolted by moments of sudden violence; it is a perfectly-balanced plot. Krivak's deep love and understanding of the natural world makes for a rich and gorgeous landscape and his spare prose is simply breathtaking.

I find that I have little interest in or patience for much of current literary fiction, with its overripe plot devices and prescriptive moralizing that aligns with politically-expedient narratives. Krivak writes with nuance and unassuming beauty, his stories achieving profundity and power amidst bookshelves of pretenders.

[Laysee · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Signal Flame is a tender story about loss. It is set amidst the hardwood forests of Northern Pennsylvania, a landscape whose wildness and beauty act as a salve for the anguish felt by its characters.

Loss takes different guises but the toll it takes on those left behind is the same. "That's the nature of loss...You are both lessened and left behind. There's nothing to be done but the work that's been given, so the part of you that's lessened doesn't become lost as well." Andrew Krivak writes empathically and movingly about such an experience and about concomitant feelings of grief and the struggles of living despite feeling “lessened” and lost.

The novel opens with the Konar family mourning the loss of their patriarchal head, Jozef Vinich, a WWI veteran and self-made mill owner, who died quietly in his sleep. Jozef’s daughter, Hannah Konar, is a woman acquainted with grief. She has been left waiting twice – the first time for her husband (Beck) to return from WWII only to lose him later in a hunting accident, and the second time for her younger son (Sam) who is missing in action in Vietnam. Bo Konar, Hannah’s older son, lost his college sweetheart in a traffic accident. Then there is Ruth Younger who in one day loses her entire family in addition to Sam, her fiancé.

In a cruel twist of destinies, Ruth turns out to be the daughter of the man who unintentionally killed Sam’s father. Understandably, Hannah has no space in her heart for Ruth who was but a baby when the accident happened. Hannah is burdened by questions for which there are no easy answers. Do we visit the sins of the father upon the son (or daughter in Ruth’s case)? How does a person forgive a wrong that has irrevocably changed his or her life? How do people move on when there is no closure for a loss of a close family member?

Krivak tells a quiet story of beauty rising out of ashes. It paints the picture of ordinary time when people wake up and get on with life. The characters cope with grief; they wait and hope; they continue waiting and hope against hope. It is a story about love for one’s family. Bo remembers what his father told him when his baby brother Sam was born: “A good man is good to his brother, Bohumir. Promise me you’ll be good to him when I’m gone.” Bo passes the kinship test with flying colors. It is touching to read how the Konar family and Ruth are led through loss to other gains. There is hope even though it may not assume the form they desire.

Krivak also provides scenic detours to the woodlands around Pennsylvania where a nature lover can heed the call of the wild. There are descriptions of nature rambles that may seem a bit too long and involved especially on the cusp of a crisis or on the threshold of one. My one gripe is on a loss that comes at the end of the novel, which to me seems unnecessary to the plot and excessive in a story when enough tears have already been shed.

The Signal Flame is my first book by Krivak. He writes well enough for me to care about the characters and that, to me, is a mark of a good writer.

[Ann · Rating 5 out of 5]

I cannot remember reading a novel that so well captured the love of land and nature (including farm animals), the tragedy of life and family issues – all in incredibly beautiful writing. This is a sequel to The Sojourn (but you don’t have to have read that to enjoy this one), and begins at the time of Jozef’s death. The main character is Bo, Jozef’s grandson who has inherited the mountainous farm (in Pennsylvania) as well as the family mill business. The other important characters are Hannah, Bo’s mother, and Ruth, the fiancé of Bo’s missing-in-Viet Nam brother. The reader watches as Bo interacts with the land, the wilderness, farming, raising animals and dealing with nature. We watch as he runs the family business. But mostly we watch as he deals with the troubles the world brings (often through nature or mistakes occurring in a natural setting). In the midst of loss and difficulty, there is also the power of love – and learning to love when the world seems to make positive emotions impossible. There is deep love and respect for farm animals (which, of course, I loved!). All this is portrayed in incredibly beautiful writing. I am very stingy with my five star ratings – but this lovely, moving novel spoke very deeply and beautifully to me (and deserves all five stars in my opinion).

[Chadwick · Rating 5 out of 5]

The quiet beauty of this exquisite novel left me awed and deeply moved.

I was impressed by Andrew Krivak's harrowing first novel (THE SOJOURN), and it pleased me to see that book find success with critics and readers alike. But as fine as his first novel was, this second novel exceeded my expectations.

Here he continues the story of the Vinich/Konar family that he began in his first novel, which was set in central Europe during the First World War. In THE SIGNAL FLAME, we've moved to the rugged mountains of northeastern Pennsylvania in 1972. Jozef Vinich, the young battle-hardened soldier of his first novel, is now a successful businessman and the aging patriarch of his family.

This is a novel of mourning and loss; memory and sadness; duty and integrity. Krivak gives us everyday people trying to come to terms with profound loss and grief, going about their lives with courage and dignity. "That's the nature of loss. . . . You are both lessened and left behind. There's nothing to be done but the work that's been given, so the part of you that's lessened doesn't become lost as well." There's no sentimentality; the emotion is genuine and heartfelt. He respects his characters, and I respect that.

In Krivak's first novel, war was front and center. It was essentially a combat novel. But here war is a quiet, lurking presence. We see the toll war takes, and the lingering damage on the family: those who came home and those who didn't. Sam, the youngest member of the family, is missing-in-action in Vietnam, and the Konars quietly await news of his fate. But no closure comes.

Although his novel is set in the eastern United States, I felt echoes of Western writers I admire. It's something about Krivak's spare language, the powerful presence of the landscape, and the quiet dignity of his characters. Wallace Stegner and Norman Maclean come to mind.

Krivak doesn't put a foot wrong here -- this is confident storytelling by a writer in full command of his craft. His descriptions and his dialogue are nearly perfect. It all feels honest and true. This is an outstanding, memorable novel. Reading it was a true and rare pleasure.

It's tempting to say that I'm interested to see whether Krivak ventures in a different direction with his next novel. But the truth is that I'll gladly read his novels about the Vinich/Konar family as long as he keeps writing them.

(Thanks to Scribner for an advance e-galley. Receiving a free copy did not affect the content of my review.)

[Dean · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you are searching for a very beautiful and sensitive written novel, so that you can curl up on your Favorit reading spot and enjoy, then this is the one!!!!!!
"The Signal Flame" by Andrew Krivak is about what it means to be human beings, its about suffering and loss, its about life itself.....
Here in this awesome and remarkable novel you have the persons and his destiny as the focus and center of the story.
Several times during my readings I had to struggle not to shed tears, because of the deep and strong descriptions yo will find here....
Seldom I've found a novel with so much rich and vivid characters, they feel so full of life that you almost can touch them!!!
The setting is located in northeastern Pennsylvania with a gorgeous and wonderful literary language, so you can smell the woods and hear the creeks......
Wonderful and entrancing to the uttermost!!!!!
Five stars and my strongest recommendation to you all....
Dean;)

[Karen · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Signal Flame by Andrew Krivak

The Signal Flame is storytelling at its best. While I was reading about the close relationship between Jozef and Bo it reminded me of all the happy time I spent with my grandparents when they were alive. So reading this novel was a very nostalgic experience for me from which I enjoyed immensely. Bo and Sam are the grandson's of Jozef Vinich. There is much beauty in this story as well as heartbreak. Hannah is Jozef's daughter who is married to Bexhet Konar. They are the parents of Bo and Sam.
These are all characters that you grow to love, since they all love each other as they are a close knit family.

I felt such sorrow when I read about Bexhet Konar, who was killed by Paul Younger, while Bexhet was walking in the woods of his property. Paul Younger is out hunting and he shoots and kills Bexhet by accident. When this accident occurs, Bo is just getting to know his father again. Bo asks Bexhet if he killed any Germans while serving in World War II. Bexhet is so traumatized by all of the killing that took place during the war, that he becomes a deserter. I really sympathized with Bexhet, who is a quiet and peaceful man. Bexhet tells a seven year old Bo that he missed the 2000 acre farm, too much, as he pulls up a small tree by the roots. Bexhet inhales the scents of cinnamon and sassafras, of the saplings roots and tells a young Bo, that he missed the the fragrance of the young tree roots, too much, as opposed to participating in all of the bloodshed he experienced during the war.

After Bexhet Konar is killed Bo starts to spend all of his time with his grandfather, Jozef Vinich. Bo is either reading his grandfather's books or following his grandfather every place he goes. Jozef has emigrated to America with fifty dollars of cash in his pocket and begins to buy parcels of land until he has accumulated 2000 acres in Dardan, Pennsylvania which is in the Northeast corner of the state. He has built a house and built up a lucrative business of a lumber mill. The beginning of the book is Jozef's wake and funeral. Jozef leaves everything to his daughter Hannah except 20 acres and a primitive farm house which he leaves to Bo. Bo builds the lumber mill into a bigger business employing many of the men who live in and around Dardan. Sam is missing in action in Vietnam. Hannah, Bo and Ruth Younger (the daughter of the man that killed Sam's father) wait for news of Sam.

Ruth is pregnant with Sam's baby. At first Hannah doesn't want anything to do with the Younger's. I loved the forgiveness Hannah gives to Ruth after a terrible tragedy happens. I also loved when an adult Bo, happens to find Paul Younger in his woods, deer hunting out of season, that Bo doesn't harbor any ill feelings towards Paul Younger. This is a beautiful story about love of family, forgiveness and the beautiful descriptive language of the woods, creeks, rivers, streams, orchards that make up the landscape of the 2000 acres of undeveloped land. This story takes place between Easter through Christmas in 1972.
Five enthusiastic Stars Plus is my rating of this novel.

Thank you to Net Galley, Andrew Krivak and Simon & Schuster for providing me with a digital copy of this wonderful novel for a fair and honest review

[piperitapitta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Il soggiorno

Ho finalmente capito cosa amo tanto di questi romanzi americani ambientati nelle cittadine sonnacchiose del Midwest, o in quelle rurali o montanare dell’ovest, degli altipiani del Colorado o delle pendici degli Appalachi o delle Montagne Rocciose.
È una questione di orizzonti, ho capito, di orizzonti larghi e vasti che permettono di lasciar correre lo sguardo oltre le luci tremule della città, dei semafori lampeggianti o dei diner aperti a notte fonda, per fissarli nel cielo, sopra le montagne, verso l’infinito.
Non che non ami le città, io sono un animale cittadino, perdipiù di mare, che ha bisogno di confusione ma anche di poter fuggire a guardare l’acqua del Tirreno ogni volta che può, ma questi cieli infiniti punteggiati di stelle, quest’aria fredda elettrizzante, queste acque gelide che scorrono da millenni incuranti di tutto e queste vallate percorse da animali selvatici sommerse di piante aromatiche che le inondano per distese, esercitano su di me il fascino di una calamita, come l’ago di una bussola che oltre cinquecento anni fa metteva in mare navi e caravelle alla scoperta di un nuovo mondo.



E io questo nuovo mondo lo scopro ogni volta, a ogni lettura e a ogni storia, anche in storie come questa (che non è sicuramente perfetta e patisce a tratti un'assenza maggiore di profondità), e in una terra che è tutto quello che ho scritto, ma è anche terra di contraddizioni e uragani capaci di spazzare via città e persone, o di annientare la volontà di tutti quanti andarono a combattere in Vietnam senza sapere bene il perché, stravolgendo, le une e gli altri, vite come quella di Hannah e Bo, Ruth e Sam, e di Bexhet, un bambino venuto al mondo proprio alla fine della prima guerra in Slovacchia.
Proprio come Jozef Vinich, il capostipite di questa nuova famiglia americana di falegnami di origini europee, radicata in Pennsylvania come gli alberi che lavora e trasforma ogni giorno nella segheria di Dardan, che in America, figlio di emigranti slovacchi alla fine dell'Ottocento (la parti in cui le usanze e le tradizioni slovacche si combinano alla vita nel nuovo mondo sono senz'altro affascinanti e interessanti), c’era nato, ma poi era finito a combattere sull’Isonzo per l’esercito austroungarico e infine, a mani vuote, era tornato dopo un lungo soggiorno dall'altra parte dell'oceano, per costruire la sua casa e mettere radici.



Mi è mancato Jozef Vinich in questa storia, mi sono mancati i suoi silenzi, trapelati appena dalle pagine dei libri mastro che la figlia Hannah consegna a Bo ormai adulto ed erede delle terre e delle case del nonno per spiegargli la storia della famiglia al di qua del mare e raccontargli di un odio che non ha motivo di esistere. Mi sono mancati i capovolgimenti di fronte che pure mi avevano spiazzata durante la lettura de Il soggiorno, quando pensando di andare a leggere una storia americana mi ero trovata trascinata impotente dal Colorado in Pennsylvania, dai Carpazi alle Alpi; ma ho saputo trovare anche qui, trascinata questa volta dall’impeto della natura, dei momenti di rara bellezza, trovandomi a scoprire una seconda volta che le acque gelide di un fiume che scorre sotto al ponte di una ferrovia, o quelle limacciose e violente di un uragano che spazza via ogni cosa che incontra lungo la sua strada, possono restituire la vita, essere la culla di una nascita di una promessa per un futuro migliore.



Non il salto di qualità che mi aspettavo, per Krivak, ma sicuramente un autore da tenere d'occhio.

[switterbug (Betsey) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Andrew Krivák is a reader’s writer, one who graces every page with depth and compassion. Three generations of a modestly wealthy timber family in northern Pennsylvania sustain multiple tragedies and loss, testing their will against adversity. This is no simpering melodrama; Krivák is a writer of such beauty and authenticity that I slid into this family at once, and cried when I turned the last page.

The Sojourn was an excellent novel, but THE SIGNAL FLAME brought me to my knees with its quiet temperament and thoughtfulness. The sense of loss is never more powerful than when it is withstood and faced with remarkable dignity, and written by the author with a tensile delicacy.

Bo Konar, the primary protagonist, reminded me of an Abraham Lincoln, strong and sensitive, a natural-born intelligent leader, like his grandfather, Joseph Vinich, who came to American from Slovakia in 1919. Faced with life-altering decisions, Bo gained strength from sorrow with the love of family and friends, particularly an exemplary priest, whose friendship and humanity is consonant to his own.

At the opening of the novel, the patriarch, Joseph Vinich, lies in his casket under the roof that has held three generations of his family, the house that he built. Vinich passes down two thousand acres of logging land in Darden, (close to Wilkes-Barre), and worked hard for his prosperity. He came from Slovakia and fought in WW I, and with hard work and good business acumen, became successful.

Although the book begins in 1971, the narrative unpacks its weight gradually, revealing historical details that are salient to the characters and tale, creating a poignant story. Bo was raised primarily by his grandfather, and his mother, Hannah. His father, Hannah’s husband, European born Bex Konar, became an American citizen, went off to fight in WW II when Bo was a baby, and was subsequently reported missing. It was years later when he returned, only to face more tragedy. Now Bo’s brother, Sam, who joined up during the Vietnam War, is missing in action, and has left a pregnant girlfriend, Ruth, in Darden. Bo’s family has a complicated relationship with Ruth’s father.

There are no villains in this story, except maybe the formidable wars and an occasion of destructive weather. This isn’t an “us vs. them,” white hats vs. Black hats story. Instead, it is a portrait of a family and a community, living in the wooded Pennsylvania territory of lumbermen and mills, and the role of nature in the wilderness. This is not an action packed fasten-your-seatbelt story, and yet the subtle and flawless writing captures Bo and his family with flawless precision, a mixture of pointillist images woven together into a cohesive and stunning story.

“The trees were always the first thing his grandfather spoke of in the morning, weaving a forecast for the day based on the curve of leaves or a bird he might see nesting in the branches. Or he would tell a story that began with the planting of a particular sapling…its root pack bound in burlap and sitting in the front seat of his rig like a passenger…”

This is no MFA writing school author—Krivák pens with an exacting fidelity to story and character that seems to come from the deepest reaches of his heart, a soulful contemplation of dignity and compassion through adversity and a soulful benevolence even under the most profound suffering. Within the hardships there is still optimism and faith in mankind. I can’t recommend this book highly enough.

[Cathy · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s 1972 and in a small town in Pennsylvania’s Endless Mountains, widowed Hannah and her son, Bo, mourn the loss of the family patriarch, Jozef Vinich and Bo’s brother, Sam, reported missing in action in Vietnam. Covering a period of a few months, we learn, mainly from the point of view of Bo, something of the tragic history of the family and the impact of his brother’s absence on the family and others.

There is some gorgeous writing: “The air smelled of the same candle smoke and slight perfume of frankincense and gardenia that she remembered, and it still sounded even in its silence like every voice uttered was a whisper and that whisper would echo forever if she just sat and listened long enough.”

The book is incredibly sad in parts as tragedies – natural and manmade – come one after another; the toll of grief on some of the characters is sympathetically conveyed: “No, she had come to believe that the only thing one could be certain of was loss. The loss of others as one lived on. Loss as the last thing one left behind.”

What prevents the book becoming too overwhelmingly depressing is the theme of reconciliation. There are some particularly moving and touching scenes between characters in which longstanding differences are set aside which, I’m not ashamed to say, moved me to tears. I loved the descriptions of the routine of daily domestic tasks which never become mundane but gave a sense of the rhythm of life in a small, isolated community. The author explores ideas of duty, obligation and continuity through Bo’s sense of connection to the land acquired by and handed down by his grandfather and there is a sense of a real regard for skill and craftsmanship.

The one slight negative is that the absence of speech marks sometimes made it difficult to distinguish conversation between characters from internal monologue.

I received an advance review copy courtesy of NetGalley and publishers, Scribner, in return for an honest review.

To read this and other reviews, visit my blog: https://whatcathyreadnext.wordpress.c...

[Louise Wilson · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second book of three. The Sojourn is the first in the series which covers Jozef Vinich during WW1.

In this book it tells of Vinich's family who now run a mill in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

Jozef's grandson Sam is M.I.A.in Vietnam. No one wants to believe he is dead. His mother &a brother are holding fort, waiting on Sam's return one day.

The family history behind this book is quite complicated and I do advise you read The Soujourn first as this will help tie up the loose threads.

I would like to thank NetGalley, Scribner and the author Andrew Kirvak for my ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Susanne · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Signal Flame by Andrew Krivak is a book about four generations of a family and the grief they experience through war and heartbreak and their ability to endure, when all hope seems lost. Raw human emotion is explored. Emotions of a mothers and sons, Hannah and her youngest son Sam, who goes off to Vietnam and is missing in action. Her eldest son, Bo, left to take care of the family, full a duty and be the Patriarch. Here we see that war takes a toll on the family, whether they go to it or not. No one is safe, regardless of how it may seem.

In this novel, Krivak’s beautiful prose pulls you in and takes hold. It does however start off very slowly and the characters take a while to take root.

Thank you to NetGalley, Scribner and Andrew Krivak for an ARC of this novel in exchange for an honest review.

Published on NetGalley on 12/13/16.

**Will be published on Amazon on 1/24/17.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was such a surprise. It was a quiet yet powerful story. He writes beautifully of pain without being overly emotional and of healing through love in many different forms. It is also a reminder of how all the generations which came before us are all part of who we are today.

I thought the ending was so interesting that I googled it and came across this wonderful interview with the author:
http://fictionwritersreview.com/inter...
In this interview he talks about how Bo is utterly alone and conflicted in that final scene. Hope and love on both sides, but how can they be reconciled.