Trophy Hunt by C.J. Box: A review

Trophy Hunt by C.J. Box
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

So, I finally got around to reading the fourth entry in C. J. Box's Joe Pickett series. I had found the first three books fairly enjoyable reading, but I have to say this one was a bit of a disappointment.

The events here take place several months after those described in the third book where the Pickett family suffered a great tragedy when their foster daughter was killed. In this book, Joe and his two daughters seem to have moved on, but the wife, Marybeth, still mourns the little girl.

The family continues to struggle financially, as they try to live on Joe's meager salary plus whatever Marybeth can earn in her part-time jobs. She has recently started an accounting business and it is around one of her clients, a realty business, that the main action in Trophy Hunt takes place.

The story opens on an idyllic scene as Joe has taken his two daughters fly fishing on a stream near their home in Saddlestring, Wyoming. It is a beautiful late-summer day and all is well until the family starts noticing dead trout floating in the water and then happens upon a couple who are fishing. The man is apparently catching and releasing fish but doing it in such a way that the animals are traumatized and are unable to recover. Joe attempts to show him what he is doing wrong, but the man is an arrogant idiot who is not inclined to listen. Soon after leaving the couple, Joe makes a horrifying discovery. There is a dead bull moose lying in the edge of the stream.

Finding a dead moose in Wyoming is not an unprecedented event, but this dead moose is different. The animal has been mutilated, part of its face sliced away and sex organs and anus removed. These injuries were obviously not done by the teeth of an animal. They were done with a blade. Moreover, even though the moose has been dead for a while, no scavengers have fed on the body. Very strange, indeed.

In the area where the moose is found, Joe experiences a strange feeling in the atmosphere. It's something he has never really felt before - a kind of pressure - and he has difficulty describing it even to himself.

Joe has no explanation for what happened to the moose, but he hopes that will be the end of it. Those hopes are dashed a few days later when a small herd of cattle is found dead and mutilated. The sheriff attributes the attacks and mutilations to a grizzly bear, but game warden Joe Pickett knows that the cuts on the cattle were made with a smooth blade, just like those on the moose. This was no grizzly bear.

More horror is to come. Soon, the bodies of two men are found within hours of each other. They were found in separate locations, separate counties even, but their wounds were similar to those found in the cattle and the moose.

What can be happening in the sleepy town of Saddlestring? Is there a Wyoming Jack the Ripper on the loose, one who preys on animals as well as humans? Or is the town being visited by aliens from outer space, little green men who perform experiments on the Earthlings they find?

A task force is formed to investigate. It includes state, federal, and local law enforcement officials and one game warden - Joe Pickett. The task force makes little headway until Joe's intuition and his good friend Nate begin to uncover the pattern to the crimes and a possible motive behind them.

When the task force lists all of the possible avenues of investigation, one of the items that goes up on the board is that "little green men" theory. Its advocate is the sheriff's deputy.

Joe mentions on different occasions in this story that he doesn't like all that "woo-woo stuff," by which he means the paranormal or supernatural explanations. That being the case, I don't think he would like Trophy Hunt very much because there is a whole lot of that "woo-woo stuff" that is left hanging at the end of the tale.

Too many things are left unexplained and it is at least implied that there may be something of the supernatural in the Wyoming forests and mountains. Maybe this is to be continued and explained in the next book, but I didn't like the fact that things were left in such a foggy state here. I don't like my mysteries to leave loose threads hanging all over the place.

View all my reviews

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

Search This Blog