When Max and his wife, Melissa, come to the Navajo reservation in Arizona for a teaching job, nothing prepares them for the world they enter. Storms with hot winds, but no rain, blind travelers and coat everything in sand. At school, Max butts heads with the crusty principal, Miles Cavenaugh, and he makes powerful enemies when he uncovers a predator in the children’s midst. And at Church, where he is made branch president, Max finds powers outside the priesthood at work. When mysterious forces and tragedy take Max’s wife, then his daughter, fleeing the reservation appears to be the only escape. But Max learns that the reservation holds the key to his past and future, and he can only face them by going back. After two broken marriages, Max returns to the reservation to teach his final three years before retirement. A rekindled friendship leads to a relationship and Max’s excommunication. During his period of excommunication, Max sees one of his old Navajo friends die of old age, and his mourning and remorse combine to help him repent of his sins. Late one Christmas Eve, he receives a call from a family looking for their Navajo exchange student, who has returned to the reservation without permission. Max heads up to the mesa in a blinding snowstorm, facing great peril and the final challenge of his life.
One critic said my stories are like a journey “through hope and despair with a moment of genuine joy at the end.” I think “genuine” is the operative word, and as a writer I have to earn that. As a reader, so do you. In my stories, faith is a terrible gift, love is tough but fragile, and forgiveness a perpetual work-in-progress. Ambiguity looks both ways before crossing the street but still gets hit by a bus, but it’s all good because redemption, in some form or another, is waiting just around the corner.
But that, too, must be earned: trust. At the end you may emerge a bit startled and shaken but hopefully a little wiser than before. And smiling. Because I’m a comic at heart, and a romantic but a realist too.
I like to tackle big themes--suffering and insight, death and consolation, despair and hope, obsession and restraint—in ordinary and mundane settings, but I will also whisk you away to exotic or marginalized lands. Landscape always plays a starring role in my stories, whether it’s the desolate, barren beauty of the Navajo Reservation or the lush suburbs of southern California.
I try to find beauty in every place and every person, but ordinariness often betrays them. They stumble and bumble and, when you least expect it, they reach up and catch a falling star. I often write about solitary people, profound loners in a crowd, not as stock oddballs but those who wish to fit in but can’t or those who have imposed a self-exile: unsung heroes in hiding.
I really enjoyed this book. I keep waiting for the great Mormon lit book to be written (I'm dreaming in the vein of Les Miserables) and this book is a step in the right direction. I'm pretty picky about what I consider serious Mormon lit and this one fits the bill.
I liked this book even better than his Beyond the River. I highly recommend it. Once again--Mormon genre. There is no fluff in his writing. His books make you do some serious introspection. I keep thinking of describing his work at "gritty" but I'm still not sure if that is the right word.