On December 17, 2008, John Piper warmly recommended Leif Enger’s novel Peace Like a River. Jenni and I read it together over the last month and finished it last night.
Enger is a gifted writer who crafts words like an artist, and his novel has several redeeming qualities. The problem, however, is that the story’s plot is far too thin. It starts well but then fizzles. We kept waiting for it to get better, but it never did. Perhaps this says more about us than it does about Enger—sort of like how the only thing being evaluated at fancy art museums is the people looking at the paintings, not the paintings themselves!
Should you read Peace Like a River? A cheeky side of me wants to answer, “No, don’t waste your life.” :-)
Andy,
I read Peace Like a River last month and as I think back on it I have nothing but a warm memory of a well-written book! I kept saying to my wife as I was reading it, “This is how books should be written!”
What about the plot seemed thin to you? What twists were you expecting it to take?
I will admit that I could do little else until I finished it—so in that way I probably could be accused of wasting my life!
Thanks for the post!
Jeff
Thanks, Jeff. I asked my wife to reply (who, I might add, has probably read about as much fiction growing up as I have read non-fiction!):
__________
Jeff,
Thanks for your comment. You’re reminding us that our evaluation may (probably does!) have more to say about us than about this book!
We found the book disappointing in these areas (warning: this contains plot spoilers):
1. The plot repeatedly seemed to spin off in a completely unrelated direction. Although the various rabbit trails were interesting, they often seemed unnecessary. We frequently looked at each other and said, “Where on earth is he going with this?”
2. The story would often build and build as if towards a climax, but then abruptly shift at the most climactic point. A good example of this is the hunt for Davy and Waltzer, which climaxes with the fall of the horse and a serious injury but then jumps to Dad’s wedding in March.
3. The end just seems to end. We almost felt that the last two chapters were Enger’s way of ending a story that he didn’t know how to end. Dad was hurriedly killed off, and the story was wrapped up.
4. Major themes were not concluded. Davy never gets justice/recognition for protecting his family while committing murder. He goes through the rest of his life as a fugitive. Waltzer disappears after killing the most important character. Although the search for Davy and the growing friendship with Andreeson were major themes, both ended abruptly.
We finished the story confused and disappointed. We kept expecting these themes to be resolved and the loose ends to be tied up. We thought that the rabbit trails were foreshadowing, but they turned out to be just well-written prose.
What did you think? Are we missing something? Again, we are very ready to admit that we are probably revealing more about our literary immaturity than anything else!
Thanks,
Jenni Naselli
Did you think the plot was predictable? I don’t see what the problem was with the plot. I especially enjoyed the intermixed, and really impressive, poetry dealing with Sunny Sundown. There were hints along the way that the little boy had lived a long time after the events of the story. And the ending caught me by surprise and was, I thought, beautiful. Presaged with Jeremiah telling Reuben that he would take his place if he could, then he did it!
And you have to ponder the use of those names. Davy Land being a man of blood, while Jeremiah Land patiently calls him to repentance, as the self-confessed sinner Reuben Land is first called to life by Jeremiah then given life by Jeremiah.
Hallelujah!
Please. Be more specific about what you didn’t like . . .
With a smile,
Jim
Okay, I see your list now. Here are my replies:
1) I think some of those twists may have to do with typological turns that have the potential to lead readers in slightly misguided directions, but then they get brought back around and set straight as things unfold.
2) I think that injury could factor in the plot as it could be what allowed the villains to escape. Don’t you think the ethical dilemmas presented by these episodes are interesting? Here Reuben has to choose between justice and being his brother’s keeper. What a choice to make! And I wonder if the rancher wasn’t half-way setting him up to send them in the wrong direction. . . I thought that in these places Enger was showing us God’s providence at work.
3) Oh, I disagree. That ending was beautiful. I’ve been there, and I’m going back. Make of it what you will. What better way to end the story than by having Jeremiah give his life for Reuben? And then, when all along I expected Sara to marry Davy, she marries Reuben and together they enjoy a little slice of Eden here on earth. Just like the one the Nasellis have.
4) I think you should rethink this. Davy gets justice. He is exiled. And yet the justice is softened by the fact that he isn’t penned up. And he wasn’t exactly innocent. He did practically invite those guys over and was waiting and ready to kill them. And he didn’t need to kill Tommy Basca. As for Waltzer, he becomes Valdez, whom we’ve seen Sunny Sundown chasing through the whole book. I wonder if he won’t show up to haunt Sara and Reuben in a future novel. . . For Andreeson, well, sometimes people get killed doing what is right, and sometimes what is right for them to do comes into conflict with what is right for other people to do. I thought these ethical dilemmas were fascinating–should Jeremiah help the feds against his own son? Isn’t this a little like the prophet Jeremiah telling Israel to capitulate to Babylon? Fascinating. I don’t think the story with Davy ended abruptly. He spends the rest of his life on the run. In exile. He never enjoys the edenic peace that Reuben and Swede know . . .
Davy is a little like Sunny Sundown. Heroic, but compromised such that he could face ultimate justice.
There’s more to say, but I’d love to know what you think of my replies!
Jim
Hey, Jim. Thanks for your thoughtful comments (as usual). I think that the scholars and pastors (John Piper, Jeff Brewer, and you) outweigh Jenni and me!
In response:
1. “Typological turns.” This is classic Jim Hamilton. He wears typology glasses, eats typology power bars, and drinks typology power drinks. That’s just the type of guy you are. :-) OK, enough fooling around. You’re probably onto something here. My evaluation is based on hearing it orally once, so I’m sure that an author who carefully crafted it included connections that I didn’t pick up.
2. Sure, the ethical dilemmas are interesting, but I suppose I was looking for resolutions that never come.
3. I think that the the ending is odd and abrupt, and it doesn’t seem to connect well to previous foreshadowing.
4. Agreed.
5. Agreed. Davy : Sunny Sundown :: Waltzer : Valdez.
6. My general disappointment is probably due to several factors, including these:
(1) my personality (e.g., getting annoyed with rabbiting, wandering prose that is completely unnecessary to the storyline);
(2) my expectation of what the book would be and the unwarranted assumption of what it should be: Here, I suppose, I’m guilty to some degree of the golden rule of book reviewing: Don’t critique the author for not writing the book that you would have written.
Andy (and Jenni)
Andy, my experience of the book was so different than yours and Jenni’s! I read this as my first order of business over Christmas break (also on Piper’s recommendation), and it had a wonderful effect on me. I found myself grieving over the social effects of sin, oozing with admiration for the way Jeremiah bore the consequences of sin for his children, longing to pray with greater faith, and wishing that more Christian art was like this. The rabbit trails and non-resolution that bothered Jenni were part of what I loved about this book – how true to life! I loved that everything didn’t work out neatly and tidily; I loved that some things weren’t made right. Stories where everything works out (this side of Christ’s return) always ring hollow for me; they’re dishonest. I’ll admit that it slowed down in the second half, but overall the book was a terrific reminder to me of the woundedness of the world and yet paradoxically of all the grace to be found in the journey. I’ve recommended it again and again. I’m with Piper (and Bullmore) on this one.
Also, I’d keep your disdain on the down-low when you see Marc Tantillo; he and Nicole have named their yet-to-born younger son “Reuben” after the protagonist.
Thanks for your thoughtfulness, though; we can still be friends.
Thanks, Brett.
1. I suppose I’ve officially demonstrated that I’m out-classed in the art department!
2. I’m with you on how tidy endings can be superficial. I wasn’t talking about a Disney or Hallmark ending though, but something more substantial and explanatory (even if tension remained).
3. “We can still be friends.” Phew!
Not outclassed, my friend. There’s plenty of room for differences here! I think my judgment of the plot may be clouded by my massive sentimental affection for the book. There are times when good fiction is able to reach a place in the soul that prose rarely penetrates; perhaps because we relax our guard and theological grid; perhaps because we’re wired for beauty. This book just laid me flat; I doubt I could objectively judge it any more than I could pick a favorite family member. It’s too close to my heart.
True story: the night I finished this book we’d had a huge snowstorm, and my car was completely blocked into the alley behind the house. More than a day had passed, and no plow had come through, and it seemed unlikely that one would. I had a meeting in the morning with Steve Handler, and if no plow came through I was going to have to cancel. I’ll be totally honest that it was Jeremiah Land and not the promises of Scripture that motivated me to pray that God would clear it out by morning. And you know what, He did! Divine approval of the novel? No. A boost for my confidence in God? Absolutely. Now after something like that, how could I ever be objective?
Andy (and Jenni),
I’m with “original” you. I read Peace Like a River a couple of years ago (on Piper’s recommendation) and was disappointed as well. Good call.
I appreciate your blog, brother.
I didn’t read all the comments because I didn’t want to hear anything about the book in detail –because I may read it soon. But I was curious about what fiction books you do love? Why do you love them?
I am trying to get a handle on what it looks like to be an author who writes fiction, but is overwhlemed by the glory of God and the gospel of Christ.
I am an author, and am trying to find my niche, believing that “my audience” likely includes those who share my view of God, but am still trying to flesh it all out.
Any thoughts are appreciated.
Good question, Samuel. I don’t have time for a long answer, but here are a few thoughts:
1. We recently enjoyed reading two documentary novels by Paul Maier: Pontius Pilate and The Flames of Rome. Highly edifying, primarily for the creative means for conveying history!
2. We grew up reading (and loving) dozens of classics by authors like Lewis, Tolkien, Twain, and Dickens. Captivating prose wedded to fascinating stories.
3. I’ve read relatively little fiction since 1998 when I entered a Bible college, but I’m rethinking that pattern after hearing my pastor warmly recommend it as good for the mind and soul. I might try something by Randy Alcorn next.
I too, am a fan of the classics (and love Lewis and Tolkien), but find little “Christian” fiction very good.
Andrew Peterson’s book was very good and I can think of other notable exceptions, but most of it I find horribly depressing. I am a fan of Randy Alcorn, though I have read none of his fiction.
I think we have a mutual friend in one Joshua J. Glidden. He put me on to your site.