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Ciro Carnevale cirocarnevale — goodreaders seem to be down on this book, as do editorial reviewers (i've actually checked only the two reviews published on amazon.com, which i assume must be the best). i can see why, but me, i'm not down on it. i've given it three stars because i don't think it's that special, and i don't care for the story much, but it's a good book about something important, and it's beautifully and captivatingly written. goodreaders seem to be down, in particular, on the language of this book, but it seems to me the language is its one glaring virtue. i have read other russell banks and, though i don't remember them well, i feel innerly certain the language was vastly different; banks says in a little preface (also published on amazon.con) that he wrote this after having reread lots of hemingway, and you can see hemingway all over the organization of the sentences and the feel of the prose. since i love hemingway and the way his language makes me feel, i have no qualms about the book's language. russell banks is a first rate writer and when he sets out to imitate another first rate writer he does it in a first rate way. like hemingway, banks provides here a visceral sense of the ways in which strong men and nature naturally mesh. the first time i read hemingway it was the nick adams stories and i was enchanted by hemingway's depiction of the natural affinity between men and nature. hemingway and banks make technology (boats, airplanes) part of this meshing and affinity (banks doesn't seem big on cars; maybe hemingway isn't either: boats and planes seem to require a physical mastery that cars do not require). there is also much fitzgerald here, especially the fitzgerald of tender is the night. some reviewers, and banks himself, claim that this book is about class. and true, the impoverished inhabitants of the small adirondacks towns the surround the reserve get some good play, and the contrast between their plight and the oblivious comfort of the super-wealthy lodgers of the reserve is addressed. but the pleasure of the book doesn't come from this and i think banks might be slightly disingenuous when he says that the impoverished locals are his main interest. this is not about poor mountain people braving the depression. this is about the follies of the wealthy, their crazes, their lusts, their luxuries, golden rum against the hearth's glow, the allure of the successful artist's life, the distant, diamond-hard, predatory, irresistible attraction of beautiful women. i had no idea, coming into this, that it was about a mentally disturbed young(ish) woman with a history of horrible child abuse and the prospect of forced psychiatric hospitalization in the heydays of lobotomy. how do these books land in my hands? well, i'm grateful. this part of it is the tender is the night bit, and i found it interesting. a lot of female madness is simply thrown in books and movies. this book takes it seriously and addresses it gravely, and i find this a good thing. the part that bored me were the intertwined love stories, which are the main focus of the novel. love stories bore me silly. in conclusion, not a spectacular book, but i think it holds its own, especially if, as i said, you like hemingway and those other macho guys who shaped american literature in the first few decades of the 20th century.