WHITE CROSSES
LARRY WATSON
Atria Books
$24.95 paperback, available now
Rating: 4* of five
The Publisher Says: Larry Watson's previous fiction evoking contemporary Western small-town life has won him awards, a dedicated readership, and unqualified critical praise. Now he has written a novel that envelops the rich emotional terrain of his beloved Montana in a mystery that is both unexpected and unforgettable.
After a nighttime accident at the bottom of Sprull Hill in Bentrock, Sheriff Jack Nevelsen is compelled to try and protect a part of his hometown that even a hero would have trouble saving—its innocence. For most everyone in the community would agree that June Moss, the quiet girl who had just graduated from high school, and Leo Bauer, the principal of Bentrock Elementary and a married man like Jack, had no business heading out of town together.
As Jack sets out to unravel the mystery of their deaths, he begins to create a story to shield his town, a lie that will reverberate throughout an entire community, and into the shadows of his own heart.
I RECEIVED AN ARC FROM THE PUBLISHER. THANK YOU.
My Review: No good deed goes unpunished. Lies are clearer than glass. The truth will out.
Every one of those nostrums is the god's-honest truth, and forgetting them...worse still, ignoring them...worst of all, setting out to disprove them...will cause more harm than the unpalatable truth ever could. Pain of an order that mere embarrassment, petty humiliation will be rendered positively desirable attends every effort at concealment of the ugly facts of human emotional life.
People don't fall out of love; they fall in it and, like Archimedes in his bath, discover that a large weight dropped into a limited volume of sloshable stuff results in losses over the sides of the delimiting container. The only limit to the sloshing damage is the relative size of the container to the added thing.
Poor little June, poor old Leo: starting out and ending up at the same moment. It is heart-hurtingly obvious to me, old and battered and cynical, that desperation rode their backs. Leo, last-love lorn, couldn't accept that he was done. June, blooming in the delicious and addictive admiration of The Older Man, wouldn't even recognize the hopelessness of escape from yourself.
When I read this in 1997, I was shattered. The carnage and the mayhem that these two blinded-by-desperation souls wreaked in their passage out of town left me muttering and fulminating and all too aware of my own sins of omission and commission. "How can you not see!" when what I meant was "why did I not see?" and the list of wrongs, slights, inconsideratenesses yawned before my appalled feet. The best stories show you yourself; the best writers make you take it with good grace.
This is the best story told by the best writer.
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