Below Zero by C.J. Box: A review

Six years before the events of this book, Joe and Marybeth Pickett's foster daughter, April, had apparently died in a fiery explosion when the FBI raided the camp of a group of militia-types who were squatting on public lands near Saddlestring, Wyoming. April's birth mother had taken her to the camp. After the fire, the bodies of a woman and a young girl were found in the trailer where Joe had seen April. It was assumed that the body was hers. The Picketts buried the child and grieved for her.

But was the body really April's? That is thrown into question because now, out of the blue, the Picketts' older daughter, Sheridan, is receiving text messages from someone who claims to be April. Is it possible? Where is she, this child who would now be fourteen years old?

Joe Pickett is in disgrace in his job after the events of the last book, in which he abetted the escape from custody of that noted criminal, and Joe's friend, Nate Romanowski. It is only his relationship with the governor that has saved him from being summarily dismissed, but, as punishment, he has been assigned a post far from his home and family. When he learns of the text messages that his daughter is receiving, he asks the governor to release him from duty so that he can investigate.

He checks the text messages and finds that there is information there that would have been known by April. Can she really be alive?

He gets help from a contact in the FBI in tracking the cell phone that the messages are being sent from and notices a troubling fact: The points from which messages are sent seem to be aligning with reported murders. He learns that the teenage girl - whoever she is - may be traveling with a Chicago mobster and his son who is an environmental warrior. What can possibly be the meaning of all this?

One of the strengths of this series is the well-developed characters of the Pickett family - Joe, Marybeth, Sheridan, and Lucy. But in this book, I felt that the family members' characters were being distorted and that they were cardboard figures, not fully developed people. Moreover, the plot seemed contrived and fell a bit flat for me. I just really had a hard time believing in it or caring much about where it was taking me.

There were some interesting parts of the story, including the efforts of the environmental warrior and his gangster father to reduce the father's carbon footprint on the planet to "below zero" so that the mortally ill father can die in peace. Of course, the ways in which they attempt to reduce the carbon footprint involve creating a very large moral stain, so perhaps not the best choices.

At one point in the book, Box puts the argument between believers in and deniers of human abetted climate change in the voice of Nate Romanowski. Nate reckons that he hasn't really decided what to believe because there are credible arguments on both sides of the issue. No, Nate (and Box), there really aren't, and I think it was just about at this point that I began to lose patience with the book.

Overall, it was in some ways an interesting read but certainly not my favorite of the series.

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

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

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