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Ruthie Fear
As a child in Montana’s Bitterroot Valley, Ruthie Fear sees an apparition: a strange, headless creature near a canyon creek. Its presence haunts her throughout her youth. Raised in a trailer by her stubborn, bowhunting father, Ruthie develops a powerful connection with the natural world but struggles to find her place in a society shaped by men. Development, gun violence, and her father’s vendettas threaten her mountain home. As she comes of age, her small community begins to fracture in the face of class tension and encroaching natural disaster, and the creature she saw long ago reappears as a portent of the valley’s final reckoning.
An entirely new kind of western and the first novel from one of this generation’s most wildly imaginative writers, Ruthie Fear captures the destruction and rebirth of the modern American West with warmth, urgency, and grandeur. The Technicolor bursts of action that test Ruthie’s commitment to the valley and its people invite us to look closer at our nation’s complicated legacy of manifest destiny, mass shootings, and environmental destruction. Anchored by its unforgettable heroine, Ruthie Fear presents the rural West as a place balanced on a knife-edge, at war with itself, but still unbearably beautiful and full of love.
An entirely new kind of western and the first novel from one of this generation’s most wildly imaginative writers, Ruthie Fear captures the destruction and rebirth of the modern American West with warmth, urgency, and grandeur. The Technicolor bursts of action that test Ruthie’s commitment to the valley and its people invite us to look closer at our nation’s complicated legacy of manifest destiny, mass shootings, and environmental destruction. Anchored by its unforgettable heroine, Ruthie Fear presents the rural West as a place balanced on a knife-edge, at war with itself, but still unbearably beautiful and full of love.
304 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2020
84 people are currently reading
3011 people want to read
About the author
Maxim Loskutoff
5 books111 followersTwo-time winner of the High Plains Book Award, Maxim Loskutoff is the author of the novels OLD KING and RUTHIE FEAR and the story collection COME WEST AND SEE. His stories and essays have appeared in numerous periodicals, including the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, Ploughshares, and GQ. Other honors include the Nelson Algren Award and the Montana Innovation Award. A Yaddo and MacDowell fellow, he lives in the Rocky Mountains of western Montana where he was raised.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 160 reviews
January 31, 2021
Gripping, weird, smart - bravo!
January 12, 2020
This was so fucking weird and good I can't stop thinking about it
May 20, 2022
“Ciò in cui credevano era ogni giorno più obsoleto e ripugnante. Si inginocchiò a passare le dita sul pelo del lupo, accarezzandolo nel giusto verso come se fosse ancora vivo. Immaginò, come faceva sempre, i muscoli e le ossa sotto la pelle. Le labbra ritratte sulle zanne lucide. L’animale che si alzava, si scrollava e correva via, perdendosi nel bosco.”
Ruthie Fear è appena nata quando il suo giovane padre uccide l’ultimo lupo della valle (Bitterroot Valley, Montana). Soltanto sulla sua pelle, diventata tappeto, la piccola riuscirà a prender sonno, dopo che la madre se n’è andata dalla loro casa mobile per non tornare mai più. Tuttavia a renderla “cocciuta e selvatica” non è stata quella abitudine infantile ma “il dover vivere fra gli uomini”.
Ha cinque anni quando per la prima volta quel ragazzo-padre, maldestramente protettivo, le mette in mano un fucile e le insegna a sparare.
Perché in quella rude valle del Montana il rapporto con la natura è questo: elementare, violento, al limite della lotta per la sopravvivenza. Ma in un ambiente già massacrato, sempre più gentrificato, la minaccia vera non è più l’animale selvaggio ma l’uomo civilizzato che avanzando corrompe, cementifica, cancella il legame naturale con la terra.
Ruthie Fear è ancora una bambina quando per la prima volta vede muoversi nell’incerto buio orizzonte del canyon la barcollante creatura senza testa che riempirà di curioso orrore i suoi pensieri, ma anche della speciale attesa di una rivelazione. Qualcosa, insomma, in grado di sciogliere quel nodo che la tiene avvinta al padre, alla valle e alla sua gente, nonostante il disagio febbrile e i vaghi sogni di fuga.
Perché Ruthie Fear, nella sua pur breve vita, è bambina, poi ragazza, poi giovane donna che riassume a suo modo le contraddizioni di cui questo romanzo è testimone: l’orrore per la violenza sull’ambiente naturale insieme all’incapacità di opporvisi; il bisogno di lasciare un contesto rude, elementare e prettamente maschile e l’impossibilità di fuggirlo veramente; il desiderio di conoscere la tenerezza dell’amore e l’aggressività interiorizzata dei rapporti elementari di sopraffazione…
“Si sentiva parte di un mondo intero e vivo, eppure era completamente sola.”
Ruthie si muove cercando qualcosa che non è in grado di comprendere in pieno, aggiustando il tiro davanti alle avversità, combattendo e dichiarando la resa, oscillando sempre fra attrazione e disgusto.
Fino a quando il suo destino, da quella notte mai dimenticata dell’infanzia, le verrà incontro. Terrificante e magnetico.
Il freddo, la neve, il ghiaccio, il canyon profondo, i picchi più elevati, i boschi e il loro sommesso respiro animale, la morte quotidiana e la vita ridotta all’essenziale, la notte spaventosamente nera e il brulichio di stelle che alludono a galassie lontane sono gli ingredienti che nutrono questo intenso racconto. Insieme alla solitudine dello sparuto gruppo di esseri umani che come le notti trascorrono la vita, a se stessi ignoti.
E su tutti lo sguardo vivido e smarrito di Ruthie Fear, presente a se stessa e al mondo come una costante, pungente interrogazione.
Una parabola drammatica e simbolica.
L’immagine di un’America che ha perduto il contatto con il suo immenso patrimonio naturale, smarrendo così anche le proprie radici umane.
(Black Coffee edizioni)
(High Plains Book Award)
Ruthie Fear è appena nata quando il suo giovane padre uccide l’ultimo lupo della valle (Bitterroot Valley, Montana). Soltanto sulla sua pelle, diventata tappeto, la piccola riuscirà a prender sonno, dopo che la madre se n’è andata dalla loro casa mobile per non tornare mai più. Tuttavia a renderla “cocciuta e selvatica” non è stata quella abitudine infantile ma “il dover vivere fra gli uomini”.
Ha cinque anni quando per la prima volta quel ragazzo-padre, maldestramente protettivo, le mette in mano un fucile e le insegna a sparare.
Perché in quella rude valle del Montana il rapporto con la natura è questo: elementare, violento, al limite della lotta per la sopravvivenza. Ma in un ambiente già massacrato, sempre più gentrificato, la minaccia vera non è più l’animale selvaggio ma l’uomo civilizzato che avanzando corrompe, cementifica, cancella il legame naturale con la terra.
Ruthie Fear è ancora una bambina quando per la prima volta vede muoversi nell’incerto buio orizzonte del canyon la barcollante creatura senza testa che riempirà di curioso orrore i suoi pensieri, ma anche della speciale attesa di una rivelazione. Qualcosa, insomma, in grado di sciogliere quel nodo che la tiene avvinta al padre, alla valle e alla sua gente, nonostante il disagio febbrile e i vaghi sogni di fuga.
Perché Ruthie Fear, nella sua pur breve vita, è bambina, poi ragazza, poi giovane donna che riassume a suo modo le contraddizioni di cui questo romanzo è testimone: l’orrore per la violenza sull’ambiente naturale insieme all’incapacità di opporvisi; il bisogno di lasciare un contesto rude, elementare e prettamente maschile e l’impossibilità di fuggirlo veramente; il desiderio di conoscere la tenerezza dell’amore e l’aggressività interiorizzata dei rapporti elementari di sopraffazione…
“Si sentiva parte di un mondo intero e vivo, eppure era completamente sola.”
Ruthie si muove cercando qualcosa che non è in grado di comprendere in pieno, aggiustando il tiro davanti alle avversità, combattendo e dichiarando la resa, oscillando sempre fra attrazione e disgusto.
Fino a quando il suo destino, da quella notte mai dimenticata dell’infanzia, le verrà incontro. Terrificante e magnetico.
Il freddo, la neve, il ghiaccio, il canyon profondo, i picchi più elevati, i boschi e il loro sommesso respiro animale, la morte quotidiana e la vita ridotta all’essenziale, la notte spaventosamente nera e il brulichio di stelle che alludono a galassie lontane sono gli ingredienti che nutrono questo intenso racconto. Insieme alla solitudine dello sparuto gruppo di esseri umani che come le notti trascorrono la vita, a se stessi ignoti.
E su tutti lo sguardo vivido e smarrito di Ruthie Fear, presente a se stessa e al mondo come una costante, pungente interrogazione.
Una parabola drammatica e simbolica.
L’immagine di un’America che ha perduto il contatto con il suo immenso patrimonio naturale, smarrendo così anche le proprie radici umane.
(Black Coffee edizioni)
(High Plains Book Award)
December 27, 2020
Oh man, I am wildly torn about this book. The prose is captivating - line upon line left me with a quiet awe. The characterization is excellent and deeply nuanced. Everyone who enters even for a moment seems to climb off the page, especially the protagonist Ruthie herself, who I found so intriguing in her complexity. I liked being in her head with her thoughts. The book evokes a rich sense of place, every scene of this small Montana town rendered in intimate detail. These are all great things. But it took me a REALLY long time to appreciate them. Until I understood what this book was really about, I spent a large portion of it in antsy, annoyed anticipation. I'm a speculative fiction reader, so I was ALL IN for this story's premise about a little girl glimpsing a monstrous Lovecraftian creature in the woods. But that premise, introduced in the first 10ish pages, ended there and did not return until the final 10ish pages. I had been so excited by that earlier idea, but as chapter after chapter continued to just leisurely meander around without any delivery, I eventually did something I NEVER do: I skipped ahead to see what I was in for. I was tired of waiting and wanting. But I'm actually glad I did this, because once I knew the creature wouldn't be back until the end, I was able to adjust my expectations and appreciate the story for what it ACTUALLY was: a portrait of rural America, struggling against the tides of change and the tension between classes. Once I was able to immerse myself in this new framework, I enjoyed the story much more, and in fact came to savor it. But it still felt like two different books: literary fiction with a speculative short story tacked onto the ends. Each was very well done. They just shouldn't have been in the same book.
July 9, 2020
2.5 stars Thank you to BookBrowse, NetGalley and W.W. Norton Company for allowing me to read this book. Expected publication: September 1st 2020
For me this book was very unusual. There were some beautiful descriptions of the Montana landscape and mountain ranges throughout the story, but the plot line was an all together different manner. The story revolved around death - both animal and human.
Ruthie Fear was the main character - from her youth, with only a father to raise her in a poor hollow of undeveloped land to her adulthood in the same poor scratch for a living substance, just outside a Native American reservation.
Native American themes, fantasy monsters, pain and sorrow, and death propels this story along. In many parts I felt the story was very disjointed and really made no sense with the only thing to fall back on was Ruthie's age and where her situation was at the time.
Very unusual that a male author would decide to write a book through the eyes of an adolescent girl. Possibly that is where I read the lack of common elements and felt the story was disjointed.
For me this book was very unusual. There were some beautiful descriptions of the Montana landscape and mountain ranges throughout the story, but the plot line was an all together different manner. The story revolved around death - both animal and human.
Ruthie Fear was the main character - from her youth, with only a father to raise her in a poor hollow of undeveloped land to her adulthood in the same poor scratch for a living substance, just outside a Native American reservation.
Native American themes, fantasy monsters, pain and sorrow, and death propels this story along. In many parts I felt the story was very disjointed and really made no sense with the only thing to fall back on was Ruthie's age and where her situation was at the time.
Very unusual that a male author would decide to write a book through the eyes of an adolescent girl. Possibly that is where I read the lack of common elements and felt the story was disjointed.
August 31, 2020
Smart, Original and Completely Absorbing
A richly observed tale spiked with survival and violence, rough justice, and love.
The reader meets Ruthie Fear when she is six years old and follow her up until her early thirties as she battles her inner demons on what type of life does she want to live as her home in the Bitter Root Valley, Montana is battling its own demons of progress versus preserving the present.
The plotting is intricate, the characters are well drawn and the pace never lets up as there are natural and man-made disasters to provide the tensions between people as they attempt to survive and thrive.
This tale of the American West is complexly layered and provides no easy answers as I pondered what would I do in the various situations.
But, if for no other reason, read this book for the spectacular landscape writing.
A richly observed tale spiked with survival and violence, rough justice, and love.
The reader meets Ruthie Fear when she is six years old and follow her up until her early thirties as she battles her inner demons on what type of life does she want to live as her home in the Bitter Root Valley, Montana is battling its own demons of progress versus preserving the present.
The plotting is intricate, the characters are well drawn and the pace never lets up as there are natural and man-made disasters to provide the tensions between people as they attempt to survive and thrive.
This tale of the American West is complexly layered and provides no easy answers as I pondered what would I do in the various situations.
But, if for no other reason, read this book for the spectacular landscape writing.
May 24, 2020
Advance reader copy. I appreciate the opportunity to review this book in advance of publication.
For three quarters of this book (except for one quibble I will mention below), I was enthralled by this novel, deeply moved by the characters who people it, in admiration of the author's ability to portray the reality of the lives in which they find themselves, and in awe of the quality of the writing.
Ruthie Fear is a girl who becomes a woman in the course of the novel, raised by her father in a teal trailer in the middle-of-nowhere Montana that is slowly transforming into a bedroom community for larger cities, as such cities are encroaching on the wild places around them all over the country. Their community is a poor one, and the wealthy who come to settle there (if only into their vacation homes for a few months a year) are deeply resented and despised. For the most part, Ruthie is no exception to the general run of those who have lived here their whole lives: stubborn, restless, angry, sad, struggling people who both love the land they live in and feel trapped by that love. At one point Ruthie tries to get away, but she has no tools for living anywhere but this little backwater town.
Violence and guns are a way of life to Ruthie, who grows up knowing how to shoot, with a father who loves to own guns and give them to his daughter as gifts, so that when she reaches adulthood she has no fewer than seven guns to her name. There are other forms of violence, too, of a more pedestrian kind; fistfights and threats, emotional manipulation and near-rape. For all this, Ruthie lives a fairly normal life, graduating high school, working in the local diner, trying to make a life for herself. Men enter and leave her life, and their presence or absence is the driving force behind much of what transpires in the book.
So far, so good. All of this is movingly told, with a poetic sense for the use of language and a fine ear for dialogue. (The one exception is the use of sentence fragments; though I understand the power of this technique, pulling the reader up short, forcing us to pay attention, Loskutoff resorts to fragments far too often for this to be effective. They begin to feel merely sloppy, displaying a lack of care, the casual use of a period where a comma or semicolon would have sufficed and not interrupted the flow).
But in the final quarter of the book, the allegory which has been lurking takes over the story, becoming the entirety of it. One could speculate on what is meant by what transpires, and I suppose to the author it had some great message to convey, but to me it seems mostly a way to shock our sensibilities, scold us for expecting a conventional ending to a lovely, sad story. I am sure our destructiveness as a species played a part in this calculated plot turn, and it's worth acknowledging our perfidy. But this ending strikes me as just grotesque, a writerly trick, which reads as a message that he can do whatever he wishes with his book. Well, we as readers can't but grant him this power. But to my way of thinking, what he has done is mar a dark and beautiful creation with something unnecessary and ugly.
For three quarters of this book (except for one quibble I will mention below), I was enthralled by this novel, deeply moved by the characters who people it, in admiration of the author's ability to portray the reality of the lives in which they find themselves, and in awe of the quality of the writing.
Ruthie Fear is a girl who becomes a woman in the course of the novel, raised by her father in a teal trailer in the middle-of-nowhere Montana that is slowly transforming into a bedroom community for larger cities, as such cities are encroaching on the wild places around them all over the country. Their community is a poor one, and the wealthy who come to settle there (if only into their vacation homes for a few months a year) are deeply resented and despised. For the most part, Ruthie is no exception to the general run of those who have lived here their whole lives: stubborn, restless, angry, sad, struggling people who both love the land they live in and feel trapped by that love. At one point Ruthie tries to get away, but she has no tools for living anywhere but this little backwater town.
Violence and guns are a way of life to Ruthie, who grows up knowing how to shoot, with a father who loves to own guns and give them to his daughter as gifts, so that when she reaches adulthood she has no fewer than seven guns to her name. There are other forms of violence, too, of a more pedestrian kind; fistfights and threats, emotional manipulation and near-rape. For all this, Ruthie lives a fairly normal life, graduating high school, working in the local diner, trying to make a life for herself. Men enter and leave her life, and their presence or absence is the driving force behind much of what transpires in the book.
So far, so good. All of this is movingly told, with a poetic sense for the use of language and a fine ear for dialogue. (The one exception is the use of sentence fragments; though I understand the power of this technique, pulling the reader up short, forcing us to pay attention, Loskutoff resorts to fragments far too often for this to be effective. They begin to feel merely sloppy, displaying a lack of care, the casual use of a period where a comma or semicolon would have sufficed and not interrupted the flow).
But in the final quarter of the book, the allegory which has been lurking takes over the story, becoming the entirety of it. One could speculate on what is meant by what transpires, and I suppose to the author it had some great message to convey, but to me it seems mostly a way to shock our sensibilities, scold us for expecting a conventional ending to a lovely, sad story. I am sure our destructiveness as a species played a part in this calculated plot turn, and it's worth acknowledging our perfidy. But this ending strikes me as just grotesque, a writerly trick, which reads as a message that he can do whatever he wishes with his book. Well, we as readers can't but grant him this power. But to my way of thinking, what he has done is mar a dark and beautiful creation with something unnecessary and ugly.
April 22, 2020
Thank you to W.W. Norton & Company and NetGalley for providing an advance copy of this book in exchange for my honest review. The book will be published on Sept. 1st, 2020.
Writing: 5/5 Plot: 4/5 Characters: 5/5
A story about a young girl growing up in a trailer in the Bitterroot Valley, just South of Missoula, Montana. Raised by her father when her mother abandons them, she alternates between absorbing his values and lifestyle and wishing she could have almost any other life. We follow her from age six through her early thirties as she tries to find her place in the world.
The book is beautifully written, evoking the wild beauty of the valley, surrounding mountains, and wildlife as well as depicting small town Montana life amid a sea of changes. We see the world through Ruthie’s eyes as she struggles to reconcile the violence and injustice that she abhors with her own inner darkness and the natural and man-made disasters that beset the Valley.
The overall tone of the book is (to me) depressing. Her perceptions of most (not all) of the men around her is as pathetic, angry, and beaten down by life. The story is a slow parade of natural and man-made disasters and the impact on the relatively impoverished people around her: fires, a giant earthquake, the mills closing and ensuing lack of work, the incursion of the “California carpetbaggers,” ski areas closed due to warming weather, thousands of geese killed from polluted ponds, etc. She is a constant witness to conflict and violence — against animals and against other people. She observes that much of the anger percolates through the hierarchy of locals: white settlers who have been there for generations, the Salish Indians (the “original” locals), and the constant influx of people who came fleeing someplace else — hippies, polygamist mormons, retirees. Everybody wants the others to disappear and nobody wants anyone new to show up.
The last chapter took a wild turn into left field. I don’t know where it came from, and I can’t decide if it was symbolic or something that was actually happening. I’m going with largely symbolic, but I don’t want to include any spoilers so you’ll have to read it and let me know your thoughts…
Overall I enjoyed reading this book — gorgeous writing, character depth, and a level of detail that made it all so palpable. I would have preferred a more balanced view of life in the area — I understand that this really was one person’s experience, but it painted the area as somewhat hopeless, full of victims who were unable to stem the tide of unwanted change (or adapt to it). It reminded me of Louise Erdrich books which I’ve stopped reading — incredibly beautifully done, but on the depressing side.
Writing: 5/5 Plot: 4/5 Characters: 5/5
A story about a young girl growing up in a trailer in the Bitterroot Valley, just South of Missoula, Montana. Raised by her father when her mother abandons them, she alternates between absorbing his values and lifestyle and wishing she could have almost any other life. We follow her from age six through her early thirties as she tries to find her place in the world.
The book is beautifully written, evoking the wild beauty of the valley, surrounding mountains, and wildlife as well as depicting small town Montana life amid a sea of changes. We see the world through Ruthie’s eyes as she struggles to reconcile the violence and injustice that she abhors with her own inner darkness and the natural and man-made disasters that beset the Valley.
The overall tone of the book is (to me) depressing. Her perceptions of most (not all) of the men around her is as pathetic, angry, and beaten down by life. The story is a slow parade of natural and man-made disasters and the impact on the relatively impoverished people around her: fires, a giant earthquake, the mills closing and ensuing lack of work, the incursion of the “California carpetbaggers,” ski areas closed due to warming weather, thousands of geese killed from polluted ponds, etc. She is a constant witness to conflict and violence — against animals and against other people. She observes that much of the anger percolates through the hierarchy of locals: white settlers who have been there for generations, the Salish Indians (the “original” locals), and the constant influx of people who came fleeing someplace else — hippies, polygamist mormons, retirees. Everybody wants the others to disappear and nobody wants anyone new to show up.
The last chapter took a wild turn into left field. I don’t know where it came from, and I can’t decide if it was symbolic or something that was actually happening. I’m going with largely symbolic, but I don’t want to include any spoilers so you’ll have to read it and let me know your thoughts…
Overall I enjoyed reading this book — gorgeous writing, character depth, and a level of detail that made it all so palpable. I would have preferred a more balanced view of life in the area — I understand that this really was one person’s experience, but it painted the area as somewhat hopeless, full of victims who were unable to stem the tide of unwanted change (or adapt to it). It reminded me of Louise Erdrich books which I’ve stopped reading — incredibly beautifully done, but on the depressing side.
July 6, 2021
I feel like this book warrants more of a 'sitting on the porch talking shit about it for a couple hours with a friend and a 6 pack' kind of situation than a written review. Its main characteristic for me is my inability to actually grasp it. We have a gorgeously written, carefully crafted, character driven portrait of a small town full of small lives bookended by...something entirely different. Kind of. We have a male written female main character with a rich interior life, but who ultimately only exists in relation to the male characters around her. While Ruthie is a fully formed and multifaceted character, I felt like this book had a large cast of secondary characters, often times so well written that Ruthie feels like an afterthought, even though she is front and center at all times. Her life is largely reactionary, bouncing off the men in her life like a pinball- and, while there is next to zero feminine energy in this book, Ruthie is hit with existential crisis each time she allows herself to cross over into the hyper masculine violence that these men use to cope with their dying way of life. I didn't necessarily find that problematic- no one escapes the toxicity even remotely unscathed, male or female- just interesting. There is so much loss here, and so little space for anything soft. I don't know, man, it is pretty much a giant, beautiful, haunting mindfuck of a book. Read it so we can talk about it.
April 21, 2022
La Bitterroot Valley è un luogo di spazi aperti e sconfinati fatti di luci e ombre. Un alternarsi di polvere, ghiaccio, vette e canyon profondi. È il Montana di Loskutoff, popolato da una comunità di personaggi multiformi: preti fanatici, nativi americani oppressi, ragazze evanescenti e uomini col fucile sempre in spalla.
Ruthie, orfana di madre, cresce con il padre cacciatore in una casa mobile, circondata da una natura cruda che sembra cedere alla pressione dell’uomo. Dovunque sorgono nuovi caseggiati, impianti sciistici e condomini. La dimensione dell’uomo si espande per contrarsi subito dopo, riportata alla sua dimensione reale, trascurabile rispetto all’eternità di rocce foreste. Un’ambientazione che respinge e riaccoglie, segnando un legame indissolubile nell’insofferenza che nasce tra domare ed essere domato.
È un racconto profondo e immaginifico dell’Ovest americano, tra desiderio di assoggettamento e rigetto, lungo lo scorrere ruvido di un tempo popolato da «ventimila anni di spiriti».
Ruthie, orfana di madre, cresce con il padre cacciatore in una casa mobile, circondata da una natura cruda che sembra cedere alla pressione dell’uomo. Dovunque sorgono nuovi caseggiati, impianti sciistici e condomini. La dimensione dell’uomo si espande per contrarsi subito dopo, riportata alla sua dimensione reale, trascurabile rispetto all’eternità di rocce foreste. Un’ambientazione che respinge e riaccoglie, segnando un legame indissolubile nell’insofferenza che nasce tra domare ed essere domato.
È un racconto profondo e immaginifico dell’Ovest americano, tra desiderio di assoggettamento e rigetto, lungo lo scorrere ruvido di un tempo popolato da «ventimila anni di spiriti».
December 12, 2021
I need to marinate on this one a bit before I give it a rating. It was interesting.
Update:
A few days later I think I'm going with a 3.5 star rating which I will round up. This novel had some excruciatingly heartbreaking and beautiful moments and some authorial choices, I felt, fell flat.
What I liked: the writing was sparse and poetic, the characters (for the most part) and the middle section, which has nothing to do with the science fiction/mythological aspect of this book (if you read, you'll see what I mean). I live in a small town in the Western US thus, I understand on a deep level the mood and the moral themes here. The description of the community in Bitterroot Valley is touchingly authentic, it's fading away... the anger, apathy and hopeless despair at seeing a way of life disappear. Yeah. It's also reactionary. That doesn't make it less valid but it's steeped in broken cultural values and fragmentary remnants of lost identity. Brilliantly told.
What I didn't like: a male author speaking through a childish voice then adolescent young girl was... It's a pet peeve of mine when men do that and it has to be done really well. I'm not saying it can't be done but you'd better nail it. As Ruthie progressed I thought her adult voice was stronger. There was a strange reference to out of context sexuality and even hints of pedophilia. Just don't.
The writing although I liked, was almost too solemn and the interactions, characters and settings, depressive. Just on the other side of melodrama. It was very tragic and although it makes sense for the story Loskutoff is telling, native and modern curses and unravelings, it was heavy. The story didn't quite connect for me cohesively. Likewise, I felt he could have just written the middle of this book and sold that or perhaps, made the science fiction aspect more subtle and less like coming out of nowhere at the end.
Conclusion: I absolutely do not regret reading it. It's complex and interesting. Parts were really good.
Update:
A few days later I think I'm going with a 3.5 star rating which I will round up. This novel had some excruciatingly heartbreaking and beautiful moments and some authorial choices, I felt, fell flat.
What I liked: the writing was sparse and poetic, the characters (for the most part) and the middle section, which has nothing to do with the science fiction/mythological aspect of this book (if you read, you'll see what I mean). I live in a small town in the Western US thus, I understand on a deep level the mood and the moral themes here. The description of the community in Bitterroot Valley is touchingly authentic, it's fading away... the anger, apathy and hopeless despair at seeing a way of life disappear. Yeah. It's also reactionary. That doesn't make it less valid but it's steeped in broken cultural values and fragmentary remnants of lost identity. Brilliantly told.
What I didn't like: a male author speaking through a childish voice then adolescent young girl was... It's a pet peeve of mine when men do that and it has to be done really well. I'm not saying it can't be done but you'd better nail it. As Ruthie progressed I thought her adult voice was stronger. There was a strange reference to out of context sexuality and even hints of pedophilia. Just don't.
The writing although I liked, was almost too solemn and the interactions, characters and settings, depressive. Just on the other side of melodrama. It was very tragic and although it makes sense for the story Loskutoff is telling, native and modern curses and unravelings, it was heavy. The story didn't quite connect for me cohesively. Likewise, I felt he could have just written the middle of this book and sold that or perhaps, made the science fiction aspect more subtle and less like coming out of nowhere at the end.
Conclusion: I absolutely do not regret reading it. It's complex and interesting. Parts were really good.
October 24, 2023
The “an entirely new kind of Western” in the description made me hope for something along the lines of Carys Davies’ West: a strained father-daughter relationship, one of them obsessed with finding an elusive creature. Having read it, the whole headless creature plotline feels like an afterthought to tie everything else together because, without it, there’s not much here to keep you going. The ‘reappearance’ of the creature was underwhelming and it predictably fizzled out into a heavy-handed metaphor. And don’t get me started on the ending...
April 3, 2023
Ho capito che c'è qualcosa, dietro il finale e le creature senza testa e il canyon. È che non riesco a decifrarla.
Al di fuori di ciò, il romanzo è scritto davvero bene a mio avviso, ed è capace di creare immagini e nostalgie per terre lontanissime e per le leggende di antenati che non sono i miei. Ho simpatizzato molto col personaggio di Ruthie, nella cui ruvidità ho intravisto tanti tratti della mia persona. Forse un po' troppo fuori contesto il finale, che ti trasporta in una dimensione quasi sovrannaturale dopo aver abbandonato l'idea che nel romanzo ci fosse questa dimensione già dopo le prime venti pagine. A quel punto, riprendere il filo è difficile.
Al di fuori di ciò, il romanzo è scritto davvero bene a mio avviso, ed è capace di creare immagini e nostalgie per terre lontanissime e per le leggende di antenati che non sono i miei. Ho simpatizzato molto col personaggio di Ruthie, nella cui ruvidità ho intravisto tanti tratti della mia persona. Forse un po' troppo fuori contesto il finale, che ti trasporta in una dimensione quasi sovrannaturale dopo aver abbandonato l'idea che nel romanzo ci fosse questa dimensione già dopo le prime venti pagine. A quel punto, riprendere il filo è difficile.
March 17, 2023
hm. this is a hard one to rate. beautiful writing, hard hitting prose crafted with so much care, perfect characterization, but the book just didn’t do much for me. i didn’t feel much of anything for the story or its characters
i still would recommend it, but it wasn’t as captivating and connecting as i hoped
the ending though, that was crazy
i still would recommend it, but it wasn’t as captivating and connecting as i hoped
the ending though, that was crazy
June 9, 2024
I've had to sit with this book before reviewing it. I'm still not sure I can give "Ruthie Fear" a proper review that will capture the brilliance, the grit, the heartbreak, the darkness, the weirdness...I was completely absorbed in Ruthie's story. Raised by her father, Rutherford in the wilds of Montana she struggles between embracing her life and fighting her way out. Loskutoff beautifully captures the complicated relationship between father & daughter while knitting a cast of characters throughout that are truly unique.
"Sometimes we can breathe for each other." ~ Ruthie Fear
"Sometimes we can breathe for each other." ~ Ruthie Fear
November 14, 2020
I loved Loskutoff characterization of fiercely independent Ruthie, but the story itself didn't do much for me. There was way too much time between Ruthie's first glimpse of the strange creature and the second. Ruthie's relationship with Badger and the whole affair with Sitka didn't ring true to me. And I really didn't like the ending.
January 13, 2024
climate change allegory? vaguely feminist western? occasionally magical realist ode to the natural world? can’t sum this one up in a single phrase. fucking incredible. haunting, violent, beautiful, other adjectives. wont get her out of my head for a while. i have this terrible curse where every blind date book i buy is insane and weird but this time it was in a good way
August 1, 2024
As someone who has lived in the Southern Bitterroot on and off for 25+ years, I found the storyline paralleling many parts of the local culture- with a little more drama. This was a strange, nostalgic read for a pseudo- local.
October 27, 2020
i enjoyed the specific detailed location of this novel and the real life texture of the characters but i almost got lost towards the end. i feel the story lost its drive after so many short choppy chapters compiled together. i feel like this couldve been a really good short story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 13, 2021
This was a strange little novel.
The book flap and first chapter lead you to believe this may be a magical realism story, perhaps even tinged with horror. It is not. It is a family drama (very reminiscent of a Kristin Hannah-esque novel) that traces Ruthie from childhood to adulthood.
It's an interesting journey to follow Ruthie Fear as she grows up in a harsh world around her. Traumatic elements test her all the way. Many times, the limited view we have into Ruthie's mind works against the story. It cuts you out as a reader too much. Also, the division of the parts is used for awkward time jumps forward that reset the narrative too jarringly.
Then, the last 20 pages go absolutely bonkers, completely unexpected, and I don't know if I liked it for its strange boldness or thought that it was too crazy a departure from the previous 260 pages.
There is a theme of nature reclaiming the land here that I did like and wish it had been leaned into more.
This probably flew under most people's radar. I would be curious to hear what you think if you give it a chance.
The book flap and first chapter lead you to believe this may be a magical realism story, perhaps even tinged with horror. It is not. It is a family drama (very reminiscent of a Kristin Hannah-esque novel) that traces Ruthie from childhood to adulthood.
It's an interesting journey to follow Ruthie Fear as she grows up in a harsh world around her. Traumatic elements test her all the way. Many times, the limited view we have into Ruthie's mind works against the story. It cuts you out as a reader too much. Also, the division of the parts is used for awkward time jumps forward that reset the narrative too jarringly.
Then, the last 20 pages go absolutely bonkers, completely unexpected, and I don't know if I liked it for its strange boldness or thought that it was too crazy a departure from the previous 260 pages.
There is a theme of nature reclaiming the land here that I did like and wish it had been leaned into more.
This probably flew under most people's radar. I would be curious to hear what you think if you give it a chance.
December 24, 2020
4.5–Ruthie Fear is very well-written and pulled me in from the first page. There’s a subtle undercurrent of darkness and evil throughout, but nothing quite prepares you for the ending. The book takes a hard shift the last few pages and left me speechless. I will say that one of the most glaring weaknesses of this novel is that the female protagonist is being written by a grown man. That leads to a less than realistic portrayal of a young girl and some very brusque handling of her gradual awakening. The novel also skirts many deeper social topics that are just never fully developed. It very much reads as an individual writing about experiences and issues they don’t have real stake in. Or it was just too short of a novel. That being said, it was a fun, fast read that seemed to do a good job capturing some of the current tensions in much of the rural west.
September 28, 2023
3.5 stars.
Maxim Loskutoff's debut novel is a deeply emphatic piece of work that takes the shape of a coming-of-age story, but ultimately, it is a fable-like ode to the resilient, terrible beauty of the natural world.
Maxim Loskutoff's debut novel is a deeply emphatic piece of work that takes the shape of a coming-of-age story, but ultimately, it is a fable-like ode to the resilient, terrible beauty of the natural world.
January 30, 2021
This book is a wild ride from start to finish — I’m so glad I stuck with it.
February 11, 2023
judging a book by its cover has never once led me astray. this was great
March 17, 2023
I adored this and read it in 24 hours, especially because I don’t quite know what happened at the end. Haunting and brilliantly written.
May 8, 2023
Absolutely beautiful and heart breaking and a little bizarre.
March 18, 2023
This book mislead me. I signed up for a supernatural thriller, but this book is actually a coming-of-age story sandwiched between two sightings (maybe 10 total pages) of an eldritch being out in the woods. We see this creature at the beginning when Ruthie is 5, and at the very end when she's 30. It's a supernatural thriller endcapping reality-based fiction. However, just because I was mislead doesn't mean I didn't wind up liking it!
Starting with what I liked most of all, the writing. It's truly gorgeous. I can see how another reader could get bored with the lengthy embellished descriptions of the landscape and Ruthie's imagination but I felt viscerally transported to Montana. I've never been out West but after reading this I feel like I have. I don't know the last time I read such stylistically beautiful writing. My descriptions of it pale in comparison. Also that cover! So pretty.
The story invoked a lot of feelings: nostalgia for a place I've never been and a life I haven't lived. Loneliness and feelings of isolation permeate every single page. I was angry on behalf of every character watching their home slowly become like any other capitalism-fueled city in America, with corporate stores taking over locally-owned shops and rich newcomers acting entitled to things that aren't theirs. The theme of trying to be strong but feeling out of control of many aspects of your life. I found I could relate to a lot of it in one way or another. The themes of colonization, race, and class were a bit heavy handed but still done very well. I loved the Native American characters in this book, and glad they weren't cast aside in favor of white characters.
Onto what I didn't like. The take on toxic masculinity was... eh? This was written by a man so what can you really expect. You almost had it, Maxim, you were like 90% of the way there. For all of Ruthie's introspection on how pathetic and awful men are, and how she hates being surrounded by them, she doesn't actually do anything to change that.
Going off that, I truly thought Ruthie was going to wind up being gay. And this isn't me looking for gay subtext everywhere, it's PAINFULLY OBVIOUS Ruthie hates men. It's mentioned many times that she's repulsed by them and only 'likes' them because she likes the power she can have over them. Never once is she genuinely attracted to the men she goes after, it comes off that she gets into relationships with men because she feels she's SUPPOSED to. And every sex scene is very... idk lifeless? She doesn't seem to be enjoying herself. What in the comphet was all that.
The part that made me take off a star, however, was the ending. I'm still confused and a little mad. Was it supposed to symbolize something? It was stated the creatures reminded Ruthie of evil things, like pollution and death. It's clear the creatures are not from Native folklore, they're something else. I thought at first they were a metaphor for white colonization, like something unnatural that was never supposed to be there was forcing it's way in. But then the townspeople killed them all, and then everyone in the town fucking DIED as a result of them killing the creatures? So what is that supposed to mean? It genuinely makes no sense to me and the fact that everyone just dies was such a stupid choice to end the story with, it comes way out of left field and is so tonally dissonant from the rest of the story that it feels like 2 different books. The ending genuinely pissed me off, but the rest of the book is great
Starting with what I liked most of all, the writing. It's truly gorgeous. I can see how another reader could get bored with the lengthy embellished descriptions of the landscape and Ruthie's imagination but I felt viscerally transported to Montana. I've never been out West but after reading this I feel like I have. I don't know the last time I read such stylistically beautiful writing. My descriptions of it pale in comparison. Also that cover! So pretty.
The story invoked a lot of feelings: nostalgia for a place I've never been and a life I haven't lived. Loneliness and feelings of isolation permeate every single page. I was angry on behalf of every character watching their home slowly become like any other capitalism-fueled city in America, with corporate stores taking over locally-owned shops and rich newcomers acting entitled to things that aren't theirs. The theme of trying to be strong but feeling out of control of many aspects of your life. I found I could relate to a lot of it in one way or another. The themes of colonization, race, and class were a bit heavy handed but still done very well. I loved the Native American characters in this book, and glad they weren't cast aside in favor of white characters.
Onto what I didn't like. The take on toxic masculinity was... eh? This was written by a man so what can you really expect. You almost had it, Maxim, you were like 90% of the way there. For all of Ruthie's introspection on how pathetic and awful men are, and how she hates being surrounded by them, she doesn't actually do anything to change that.
Going off that, I truly thought Ruthie was going to wind up being gay. And this isn't me looking for gay subtext everywhere, it's PAINFULLY OBVIOUS Ruthie hates men. It's mentioned many times that she's repulsed by them and only 'likes' them because she likes the power she can have over them. Never once is she genuinely attracted to the men she goes after, it comes off that she gets into relationships with men because she feels she's SUPPOSED to. And every sex scene is very... idk lifeless? She doesn't seem to be enjoying herself. What in the comphet was all that.
The part that made me take off a star, however, was the ending. I'm still confused and a little mad. Was it supposed to symbolize something? It was stated the creatures reminded Ruthie of evil things, like pollution and death. It's clear the creatures are not from Native folklore, they're something else. I thought at first they were a metaphor for white colonization, like something unnatural that was never supposed to be there was forcing it's way in. But then the townspeople killed them all, and then everyone in the town fucking DIED as a result of them killing the creatures? So what is that supposed to mean? It genuinely makes no sense to me and the fact that everyone just dies was such a stupid choice to end the story with, it comes way out of left field and is so tonally dissonant from the rest of the story that it feels like 2 different books. The ending genuinely pissed me off, but the rest of the book is great
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 15, 2020
A huge thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for providing me with an ARC of this title in exchange for an honest review.
This book had everything. Creepy vibes. Social commentary. A fierce heroine with a unique voice. An ending that I could never have predicted.
When we meet our narrator, she is six years old and knows that what she saw in the mist is a monster. She spends most of her childhood plotting to see it again, and hones her sharpshooter skills in the hope of capturing it. Her friend Pip is the only one who believes her outlandish story, and it bonds them through their hardscrabble lives. They grow up in a world in the midst of change.
The mysterious forest and foreboding mountains that have defined Ruthie's childhood are being devoured by the modern world. Those that have lived in the Bitterroot their entire lives eke out an existence. But the rich have discovered the oasis, and are building sprawling mansions in the foothills that are incongruous with the rugged landscape. The wild places begin to disappear. Ruthie's father Rutherford has spent his life stalking prey across the unforgiving terrain, and is embittered and outraged by the changes.
People flock to the valley looking for serenity and escape, but they are corrupting the very things that make it special.
This book had everything. Creepy vibes. Social commentary. A fierce heroine with a unique voice. An ending that I could never have predicted.
When we meet our narrator, she is six years old and knows that what she saw in the mist is a monster. She spends most of her childhood plotting to see it again, and hones her sharpshooter skills in the hope of capturing it. Her friend Pip is the only one who believes her outlandish story, and it bonds them through their hardscrabble lives. They grow up in a world in the midst of change.
The mysterious forest and foreboding mountains that have defined Ruthie's childhood are being devoured by the modern world. Those that have lived in the Bitterroot their entire lives eke out an existence. But the rich have discovered the oasis, and are building sprawling mansions in the foothills that are incongruous with the rugged landscape. The wild places begin to disappear. Ruthie's father Rutherford has spent his life stalking prey across the unforgiving terrain, and is embittered and outraged by the changes.
People flock to the valley looking for serenity and escape, but they are corrupting the very things that make it special.
March 27, 2022
I can see these people, their lives, their surroundings. Their world comes alive for me.
Angel’s Landing reminds me of the Huron Mountain Club
In part one, Loskutoff does an excellent job of capturing a child’s voice, way of thinking, rhythm to her thoughts and actions.
That elk massacre was well written but horrid to read and not how true hunters hunt. I come from a family of hunters and it’s the most disturbing thing I’ve read since learning what people have done to pigeons in Flight of the Diamond Smugglers, and this was much more graphic and so hard to read.
The priest in the river was also very disturbing, in a quieter, did that really just happen kind of way. Did he do what I think he did? And didn’t the people watching have to know that’s what would happen and all watched and let it?
Poor Badger.
The relationship between Ruthie and Rutherford is so well done and genuine. It’s my favorite part of the book. It’s really hard to be a single dad to a daughter. When they’re adults, I found myself imaging I know how Ruthie feels when her dad starts dating. When he opens his bar and tells her he doesn’t know what to be proud of except her I wanted to call my dad and tell him how much I miss him.
It’s amazing Ruthie survived her childhood. All those unlocked loaded guns made me sure this was going to be that story. Then in her 20s we have the football played and I thought we were going the Aaron Hernandez route and that would be her end. And in her 30s it’s into the scary canyon…and then back to the party safe and sound. And then we find out that just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
Angel’s Landing reminds me of the Huron Mountain Club
In part one, Loskutoff does an excellent job of capturing a child’s voice, way of thinking, rhythm to her thoughts and actions.
That elk massacre was well written but horrid to read and not how true hunters hunt. I come from a family of hunters and it’s the most disturbing thing I’ve read since learning what people have done to pigeons in Flight of the Diamond Smugglers, and this was much more graphic and so hard to read.
The priest in the river was also very disturbing, in a quieter, did that really just happen kind of way. Did he do what I think he did? And didn’t the people watching have to know that’s what would happen and all watched and let it?
Poor Badger.
The relationship between Ruthie and Rutherford is so well done and genuine. It’s my favorite part of the book. It’s really hard to be a single dad to a daughter. When they’re adults, I found myself imaging I know how Ruthie feels when her dad starts dating. When he opens his bar and tells her he doesn’t know what to be proud of except her I wanted to call my dad and tell him how much I miss him.
It’s amazing Ruthie survived her childhood. All those unlocked loaded guns made me sure this was going to be that story. Then in her 20s we have the football played and I thought we were going the Aaron Hernandez route and that would be her end. And in her 30s it’s into the scary canyon…and then back to the party safe and sound. And then we find out that just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean you’re wrong.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
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