Any Other Name by Craig Johnson: A review

Is it ever summer in Wyoming? Or spring? Or fall? It always seems to be winter in these Craig Johnson novels. Winter with a blizzard blowing and ground fog creeping up making for whiteout conditions. And into such disorienting conditions that would stupefy and overwhelm any ordinary human being, Walt Longmire must venture in order to pursue some really, really bad guy who must be brought to justice. Not only will he pursue but he will do so in spite of the fact that he has been shot and/or beaten and may be barely lucid, but he is led on by the spectral voice of his long-dead friend Virgil White Buffalo or by the otherworldly songs and drums of the ancient Cheyenne residents of the area. Such hallucinatory events play a big part in the Longmire psyche.

Indeed, the plots of these Longmire mysteries have become pretty predictable. After all, if you've got a winning formula, why change it?

We start out with Walt investigating some murder. In this instance, it's not even a death in his county and may not even be murder, but his old friend and mentor, Lucian Connally, inveigles him into probing into the facts surrounding a death in an adjoining county that was ruled a suicide. The widow doesn't believe it and the widow is an old "friend" of Lucian's.

The victim was an investigator for the sheriff's department assigned to looking into cold cases or unsolved cases. Walt's investigation reveals that the man was looking into the disappearances of three women in the area and it looks like the disappearances could be related. It seems that there could be a serial killer, or at least a serial kidnapper, in the area. But, for some unknown reason, the investigator had checked into a local motel, locked the door, and then shot himself twice in the head. The first was a glancing blow but the second was a killing shot.

Walt can't find anything to disprove suicide but he wonders why this man with a spotless reputation for integrity would have taken his own life. It turns out to be a very complicated tale that Walt must solve while working against the clock.

That clock is quickly running down to the time his first grandchild is supposed to arrive in Philadelphia and his daughter, Cady, insists that he be there. He's got a plane to catch, but can he catch the bad guys first?

Meantime, his "undersheriff" Victoria Moretti - he always calls her his undersheriff, although she seems to prefer to be on top - shows up at the motel where Walt is staying and jumps his bones. They have hot, rumply sex, which is never actually described but only alluded to. (This, too, is a standard feature of these plots.) And then Vic assists him in his investigation.

In the end, we return to the situation as I've described in the first paragraph. There. I've given you the plot outlines of Craig Johnson's books, so now you don't have to read them. But if you don't, you'll miss out on a lot of sardonic wit and sparkling dialog between the characters who inhabit and assist the Absaroka Sheriff's Department, as well as vivid descriptions of the Wyoming landscape. That unique humor that often makes me laugh out loud is the main reason why I keep reading 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

Search This Blog