The Whistling Season by Ivan Doig
I have not even finished this book yet, but I have to write up a review. Now, I have read Ivan Doig before and liked him just fine. But this is amazing. The writing is luxurious. I don’t know how else to describe it. Each word of every sentence is chosen with such care.
Doig is at times poetic, “The Rembrandt light of memory, finicky and magical and faithful at the same time, as the cheaper tint of nostalgia never is.” His observation unparalleled, “The pewter cast of light that comes ahead of winter crept into the schoolground as I performed the last of my winter errands, shadows growing dusky instead of sharp almost as I watched.” Not least of all is his humor and wit, “…if Father nicked himself shaving he thought he was two feet into the grave.” and “Damon’s eyes narrowed; if Aunt Eunice was on her way to the hereafter, it plainly seemed to be by a highly roundabout route.”
The writing is beautiful, the story lovely and credible. I wish the characters lived near me. I love them all, even the ones I was skeptical about at first. The setting is 1909 Montana, and the narrator is 13 year-old Paul Milliron. There is no involved overreaching plot, just the exquisitely drawn characters and their interactions with each other. I am enjoying this so much that I meter out my readings to make it last. I recommend with pleasure.
