The River We Remember: A Novel
It’s been a while since I was fortunate enough to read a book that I simply looked forward to spending time on.
That’s not to say that I haven’t enjoyed many of the reads of the last few months. But to be honest, some books are work, some are for the information they contain (and can be quite satisfying in that regard), and some, I hate to admit, can be a slog.
But every so often, you can simply dive in and enjoy a good story well told. This was one of those opportunities.
First, I am indeed partial to a good murder mystery. I like it particularly when the author doles out the clues in a way that lets us, the readers, try to figure out “whodunit.” I am peeved when we’re not told all the “detective” knows (unless, of course, the detective is Sherlock Holmes!), or when we’re thrown one too many red herrings. But this book doesn’t fail to keep the reader up to date on what the sheriff of Jewel, Minnesota, has learned – or what happens when we go off with another of the main characters as they each, in their own way, try to help with a shocking murder that takes place on a famous bend in the nearby Alabaster River.
I am also fond of a story in which there is a heart – a reason to care about the people being depicted. Again, Krueger does not fail. Set in the late 1950s, the book is populated with people who have, largely, gone into the depths of World War II, and come out on the other side sadder, wiser, more reckless, perhaps impoverished in body or spirit. They, and their families and children, are trying to return to the world before the war – the farms, businesses, schools, and homes they knew, lost, recaptured, or are still seeking. There is more than one character that will resonate with most readers, whether it’s the morally compromised Brody; the stoic Native Noah Bluestone or his Japanese bride, Kyoko; Brody’s love interest (one of them), Angie and her son or son’s best friend – or any of the other assorted characters that the writer very successfully fills out as three-dimensional people, not simply off-the-shelf murder mystery must-haves.
A thing I will admit I am not fond of in most books (though again, I will make an exception for a writer like Dickens, who can throw as many characters at me as he wishes) is too many characters, sub-plots, and points of view. When I want to simply sit and coast on the story as it unfolds, changing that POV requires work, work I don’t want to do when I’m reading for the pleasure of it. But again, I will hand it to Krueger that, though he does toss a lot of personalities into the tale, he eventually makes them three-dimensional enough, and quirky enough, that they separate out into individuals whom the reader feels are real, and the nit requires no further picking.
Another feature, especially of whodunits, that I like is the chance to become acquainted with a new place and time. My mom was a fan of M.C. Beaton’s Hamish MacBeth stories, set in little Lochdubh, Scotland, and I followed her trip into an isolated little Highland town, complete with a “castle,” cattle and crooks. Half the fun of those stories was being escorted around the village, and seeing the loch as MacBeth fished it, or holed up in his highland home. Again, having only once driven through Minnesota, I thoroughly enjoyed the rich descriptions not only of a small town in rural Black Earth County, but the glimpses into the history of the people who work its soils, roads, cafes, and schools. Krueger gives us enough detail that we can see the river snaking along, smell the richness of the soil or taste the hearty food served in the featured pub.
Finally, there is the mystery itself – or at least, the crime. I want something believable; I don’t want trickery or a complete shock, or something so obvious I get bored. Again, Krueger has done his work in laying out possibilities – guilt enough to go around, investment enough in the characters to want us to hope it *wasn’t* some of them. The people we meet in this book are real enough to have flaws, decent enough that we can imagine knowing them and enjoying their company.
So here’s a recommendation for your post-holiday, sitting by a Central New York winter fireplace reading pleasure. A cozy mystery as it should be written.
