As the Crow Flies by Craig Johnson: A review

Needing a bridge, something that wouldn't tax my brain too much, to take me between more serious readings, I turned to Craig Johnson's Walt Longmire series.

I don't mean to denigrate Johnson's writing. He's very entertaining and he writes with a light touch and a lot of sardonic Western humor. Sometimes that is exactly what a reader needs and this was one of those times.

As the Crow Flies is the eighth book in the series. Having read the first seven in order, I was ready to see where Walt's and Henry Standing Bear's adventures would take them this time. I was amused to learn that their latest caper was as wedding planners.

Walt's daughter, Cady, is getting married in two weeks at the time that the novel begins, and Walt and Henry have been tasked with securing a venue and making the plans. Things are not going swimmingly.

Cady wants to get married on the Reservation and Henry believed he had reserved the site for the occasion, but then the person in charge of the place informed him that she had okayed the site for another purpose on the date in question. Now Henry and Walt must find a new site or find a way to change her mind.

They opt to look for a new venue and head out to an area of scenic cliffs. While looking around, they observe a woman on top of one of the cliffs. And then they see her fall onto the rocks below. They manage to reach her just at the moment of her death.

Walt's dog (unimaginatively named Dog) was with them and he finds a bundle that had rolled away from the woman's body. It is a blanket wrapped around a baby. It's evident that the baby was in the woman's arms when she fell and he is alive and not seriously hurt.

Since they are on Reservation land, they contact the new Chief of Police there, a young woman named Lolo Long. She has a prickly relationship with the two and with almost everyone else with whom she comes in contact, but, of course, she and Walt wind up working together to investigate the death.

Things become more complicated a few days later when the dead woman's abusive alcoholic husband is found dead also. He had been shot. There's no question that this was murder, but was the woman's death murder, suicide, or accident? Is someone trying to get rid of the family? What motive could possibly exist?

Walt and Lolo, along with Henry, negotiate the convoluted Reservation relationships and attempt to piece together what has happened and who is responsible. Meanwhile, Cady and her soon-to-be mother-in-law arrive in town and begin making the arrangements for the wedding themselves.

This was a very quick and highly entertaining read. There were none of the things in this narrative that I've sometimes found annoying in the earlier books. In fact, I would say this is my favorite Walt Longmire novel so far. The plot moves quickly and most of the characters are old friends and the new ones, like Lolo, are nicely fleshed out with interesting back stories. I think Johnson is on a roll with this series.

My rating: 4 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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