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Publication
Description
"Karl Marlantes's debut novel Matterhorn has been hailed as a modern classic of war literature. In his new novel, Deep River, Marlantes turns to another mode of storytelling--the family epic--to craft a stunningly expansive narrative of human suffering, courage, and reinvention. In the early 1900s, as the oppression of Russia's imperial rule takes its toll on Finland, the three Koski siblings--Ilmari, Matti, and the politicized young Aino--are forced to flee to the United States. Not far from the majestic Columbia River, the siblings settle among other Finns in a logging community in southern Washington, where the first harvesting of the colossal old-growth forests begets rapid development, and radical labor movements begin to catch fire. The brothers face the excitement and danger of pioneering this frontier wilderness--climbing and felling trees one-hundred meters high--while Aino, foremost of the books many strong, independent women, devotes herself to organizing the industry's first unions. As the Koski siblings strive to rebuild lives and families in an America in flux, they also try to hold fast to the traditions of a home they left behind. Layered with fascinating historical detail, this is a novel that breathes deeply of the sun-dappled forest and bears witness to the stump-ridden fields the loggers, and the first waves of modernity, leave behind. At its heart, Deep River is an ambitious and timely exploration of the place of the individual, and of the immigrant, in an America still in the process of defining its own identity"--… (more)
User reviews
It begins with the Koski family, living in Finland, as farmers. The country was still occupied by Russia, in the late 19th century and the father of the clan, was a strong nationalist and is soon arrested and imprisoned, forcing the family to flee to America. They take up residence in the Pacific Northwest, lured by the Homestead Act. They quickly establish themselves in the booming, logging community.
The author has done his research, adorning the narrative with rich historical detail, while keeping the dramatic elements of the story, moving along at a brisk clip and using the rugged wilds of Washington as a perfect backdrop. The reader will learn plenty about the early labor union battles, (yes, they were brutal) and everything you need to know about logging and salmon fishing.
Annie Proulx's novel, Barkskins, also covered the early logging industry. I liked that book but I think Marlantes did it a bit better. Terrific read.
Where this didn't work quite as well for me is connecting with the characters. There were quite a few to keep track of, but it doesn't take too long to figure out the key players. But I just didn't take them to heart. I appreciated their struggles and I appreciated the different personalities, but they never quite became real to me, and I can't figure out why. Still, this is a very good good, and deserves reading for anyone at all interested in the subjects.
A word of warning: If you are a coffee drinker, you're going to want to drink lots of coffee while you read or listen to this book. It's mentioned frequently and consumed by the gallons, not surprisingly.
At its most basic level, Deep River is a fascinating story about Finnish immigrants who settle in Washington state and become players in the logging industry against the backdrop of the growing laborers’ rights movement. There is a lot to love for those who enjoy family sagas of this kind. Family is the heart of the story. The Koski siblings continuously prove that blood is indeed thicker than water, as they weather changing fortunes, political and religious differences, as well as a growing divide between urban versus rural dwellers.
Plus, Mr. Marlantes brings turn-of-the-century logging back to life in all its brutality and insanity. Unfortunately, this is also where Deep River starts its descent because Mr. Marlantes spares no word or description when it comes to logging. Paragraph after paragraph, page after page, he details readers with every aspect of logging life. Granted, loggers were insane to do what they did and deserve their chance to shine. Sadly, the story suffers while they get their chance.
The other area in which Mr. Marlantes proves to be a bit too effusive with his descriptions is with the laborers’ rights movement. While workers’ rights are at the very heart of the Koski family story, his explanations of each side drag on and on. As in the case of the descriptions of logging, while he goes into ideological detail, the story comes to a halt.
In both of these instances, a good editing session could greatly improve the flow of the story while maintaining the detail Mr. Marlantes wants. These bits are interesting by themselves but detract from the overarching story so that it all becomes a bit of a slog to get through.
One true flaw with Deep River is with Aino Koski. While Mr. Marlantes does not portray any female in the best light, preferring instead to stick to various caricatures of women such as the ice queen or the submissive wife, I find Aino to be particularly troublesome. For one, she is utterly incapable of separating ideology from reality when it comes to her belief in communism but has no problems facing reality in every other situation. She is idealistic to a fault and too unrealistic, which is so odd given that Mr. Marlantes takes pains to portray her as supremely pragmatic and realistic.
I particularly struggled with accepting that she turned her back on her child and that any mother would choose an ideology versus caring for her baby. I mean, she literally leaves her infant daughter behind to go help striking workers with only a few sentences describing her guilt at doing so. It isn’t as if she doesn’t love her child. In fact, the birth of her daughter and the feelings that having a child creates in Aino is the one rare scene in which Aino shows that she is capable of emotion. So, to have someone as stoic as Aino willingly give up that love and devotion and put strangers ahead of family in importance flies in the face of what we know about her character. It is almost as if Mr. Marlantes does not understand the mothering instinct at all.
With all that said, I finished Deep River with a greater appreciation for loggers and for those workers who risked everything to fight for shorter workdays, safer work environments, and better benefits. As workers continue to fight for the opportunity to unionize, there are lessons to learn from those early struggles. There is a part of me that continues to mourn the loss of the immense old-growth trees Mr. Marlantes loving describes, but you have to give props to the crazies who felled them with nothing more than wire cable, saws, and muscle. Insane.
Highly recommended.
In the
In the early 1900s, as the oppression of Russia's imperial rule takes its toll on Finland, the three Koski siblings—Ilmari, Matti, and the politicized young Aino—are forced to flee to the United States. Not far from the majestic Columbia River, the siblings settle among other Finns in a logging community in southern Washington, where the first harvesting of the colossal old-growth forests begets rapid development, and radical labor movements begin to catch fire.
The brothers face the excitement and danger of pioneering this frontier wilderness—climbing and felling trees one-hundred meters high—while Aino, foremost of the book's many strong, independent women, devotes herself to organizing the industry's first unions. As the Koski siblings strive to rebuild lives and families in an America in flux, they also try to hold fast to the traditions of a home they left behind.
Layered with fascinating historical detail, this is a novel that breathes deeply of the sun-dappled forest and bears witness to the stump-ridden fields the loggers, and the first waves of modernity, leave behind. At its heart, Deep River is an ambitious and timely exploration of the place of the individual, and of the immigrant, in an America still in the process of defining its own identity.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: Remember when I warbled my fool lungs out about how awful, painful, and enraging Matterhorn was, and then gave it my annual 6-stars-of-five nod? And told y'all to move quick and get the book? No?! What do you mean, "no"?! You don't commit all my reviews to memory?! Ingrates....
The wattage of warbling is lower this time, but then again I'm ten years older. Everything is lower. (I hate you, Gravity.) What is not lower is Karl Marlantes' level of writing:
Then, like a seaborne Sisyphus, the ship clawed to the top of the next towering wave, as the sailors fought gravity and slippery decks to maintain their balance and their lives.
–and–
With those you love, you accept that there are only two ways you will not get hurt when you lose them. You stop loving them or you die first.
It's to your taste, or it's not; but it is not describable as bad. I've heard the "purple prose" calumny tossed lightly about in reference to Marlantes's work; I am not on board with this. What might seem purple to some readers is, in my way of looking at it, period-appropriate formality. And the lush sensory world is a feature, not a bug, to me...in historical fiction it adds a layer of depth to the world I spend time and effort creating in my reading eye.
What is, I fear, describable as "bad" is Author Marlantes's gender politics. Women, I am here to tell you, do not think about their breasts unless a man is ogling them, or they've chosen that man's attention to attract. (I listen when women talk instead of staring at their boobs. Try it sometime! Fascinating what women know.) I fear that the author's cishet maleness rears its head here. Fly over it (my solution, since I care nothing about boobs) or pass on by. Similarly I Rose Above a character's christian beliefs. Mostly because she's an actual, not a religious, christian. Icky, but endurable since she's not all gawd and church and suchlike bullshit.
So all that dealt with, let me say that I think the lushness and enfolding sensual reality of the work is worth the things I don't find to my personal taste. I won't say I'll give it all the stars, I've mentioned places that take away from that level of enjoyment, but the story of the Koskis leaving oppressed-by-colonialism Finland to become the colonial despoilers of the Pacific Northwest's glorious rainforests struck me as very interesting and quite moving.
Their fates are, as one can intuit from early on, set in the Old Country. Who you are, at your core, is set early in life. All the Koskis are Finns to the bone. What they do, as immigrants ever have, is try on the identity of "American" over their Finnishness. This is a process that I've always found deeply, profoundly moving. To leave the place that formed you because it has no room for you is painful. But the fact is that when Home doesn't want you, it ain't home anymore.
There is no part of this read that I was not able to enjoy. Realizing I am not a woman, I offer the caution above; and I am old, so many anti-colonial younger persons aren't going to resonate as I did to the theme of discovering the identity "American" and trying it on for size. A few of the queer young folk (especially my trans friends) might find the enforced emigration from Home familiar.