The River We Remember by William Kent Krueger

 I have enjoyed this author, so I thought I'd try another one of his. It was in the library, so I took it home and savored it. It has been awhile since I got so engrossed in a story that I shut down all systems to read through to the end. This one did it for me.

I really liked the characters and the way their stories unfolded, one by one. I loved the small town interactions, the way the sheriff handled the jail, the way everyone knew everyone, yet there were still a lot of surprises. I especially liked how the main character finally grew out of his affair with his sister in law, though it took too long!

The racial prejudice of this small town reminded me of South Dakota life in many ways. Lots of good people, and a few who can't get over their narrow thinking. 

I like the way the farming and country life is described and it felt true to me. The last part of the book got darker as the story of how the central murder happened...The despicable victim's life was difficult to contemplate and read about. Up until the ending, though, there were a lot of sympathetic and interesting characters. I enjoyed it... A Lot. 

Ordinary Grace by William Kent Krueger

My friend MaryLou thought I might enjoy this book; she says I'm spiritual! I enjoyed that description and I enjoyed the book, although it's more religious to me than spiritual, per se. What I enjoyed about this book was the characters of the two brothers growing up in this little Minnesota town. Their mother was a disturbing presence, and their father was heroic. It has elements that remind me of South Dakota; the anti-Native sentiment, for example. It's sensitively written, and I enjoyed the sense of nostalgia for a simpler time and place.

It definitely held my interest, but it's not a keeper. I will pass it along. There was one compelling part, though, that was impressive. The main character's father, the heroic one, is suffering mightily from the death of his daughter. He questions why God would take his daughter. He says, "Why Ariel? Why not me? The sins are mine. Why punish her? Or Ruth? This is killing her, Gus. And the boys, they don't understand, they just hurt. And it's my fault. All my fault." [He had killed as a soldier in Viet Nam.] His friend answers:

"You think God operates that way, Captain? Hell, that sure ain't what you've been telling me all these years. And as for those sins of yours, I'm guessing you mean the war, and haven't you always told me that you and me and the others we could be forgiven? You told me you believed it as surely as you believed the sun would rise every morning. And I've got to tell you, Captain, you seemed so certain that you got me believing it too." Gus sat forward and looked at his hands which were wax-pale in the candlelight. "I can't see any way that the God you've talked yourself blue to me and everyone else about would be responsible for what happened to Ariel. I can't believe God would hurt that beautiful child in order to call you to account. No, sir, I don't believe that for one moment." 

This seemed odd to me coming from Gus because mostly what I'd always heard from him was a questioning of everything my father spoke for.

"Seems to me you're just kind of reeling here, Captain. Like from a punch in the face. When you come around you'll see that you've been right all along. I know I give you a hard time about your religion but damned if I'm not grateful at heart that you believe it. Somebody's got to. For all the rest of us, Captain, somebody's got to."

Gus stopped talking and I became aware of an odd and disconcerting sound that was growing louder in the sanctuary. I didn't understand at first what it was or its source, and then I realized it was my father crying. Huge sobs erupted from him and boomed off the walls. He bend ant wept into his hands and Gus leaned to him and held my father dearly.

This part was very moving to me. This father was a minister who had patiently endured many trials...and had stood firm in his faith. I loved this part, because it showed how even the most admirable and faithful sometimes falter and need the strength of others... it's beautifully and truthfully rendered here, I think.