The following is a guest review from my friend, Ed O'Hare, a voracious reader in his own right, and an accomplished arbiter and commentator:
In Peter Heller’s latest novel, The Guide, Jack, a reticent, Ivy League-educated cowpoke, has been hired as a fishing guide at an exclusive mountain retreat catering to the ultra-rich. Set in the not-so-distant future, the coronavirus has spawned several variants and, although the disease is being held at bay, the world is a different place. For those willing to pay the price, the Kingfisher Lodge’s secure isolation, and the presumed healthful benefits it offers, are very much in demand.
Jack is soon paired with a client, Alison, a famous country singer-songwriter looking for a peaceful, restful escape from the limelight. Amid the idyllic Colorado landscape -- lush mountain forest, pristine trout streams -- the two bond over a similar upbringing and a shared passion for fly fishing. Soon sparks fly between them. But they notice that something about their surroundings seems a little … off. Video cameras trained on the creek. Barbed wire fencing. A trigger-happy neighbor. The proprietors of the Lodge have ready and reasonable explanations, but still ….
I’ve enjoyed a number of Heller’s prior offerings. I regularly return to The Dog Stars, Heller’s first novel, a bleak and affecting post-apocalyptic portrait of a solitary flu pandemic survivor. His autobiographical Kook: What Surfing Taught Me About Love, Life and Catching the Perfect Wave presents an entertaining, often humorous look at Heller’s own efforts to take up surfing as a middle-aged adult. More recently, in The River, Heller depicts the gripping tale of two college buddies on a canoe adventure gone terribly wrong.
The Guide is a sequel of sorts to The River. Jack managed to survive that harrowing canoe trip, but now several years later, is still haunted by -- and blames himself for -- the loss of his friend Wynn. What could he have done differently? What should he have seen sooner? Second-guessing his actions, Jack struggles to cope with regret, seeking refuge in the simplicity of fly fishing. While guiding rich folks might not be his first (or second or third) career choice, at least he gets to fish. And with Alison, he’s met a kindred spirit. All seems fine, until ….
Fly fishing requires a great deal of skill. Perfecting the art of casting a line and landing it in a precise manner and place takes time and patience. But more than anything, proficiency requires a mastery of the environment, an almost complete immersion in one’s surroundings: reading the current, climate, the wind; understanding the local flora and fauna, and selecting just the right fly to tempt a trout to the hook. Translating these subtle cues and observations into successfully landing a fish is the mark of a true master. And Jack is a master on the river.
On land? Apparently, not so much.
What makes this otherwise enjoyable, even thrilling book so exasperating, particularly in its middle portions, is Jack and Alison's utter failure to grasp the obvious -- to read the cues and take action. Gunshots; suddenly closed-mouth and evasive staff; guests randomly disappearing then reappearing, having obviously been through some sort of ordeal. Long after any reasonable observer would have packed their bags and skedaddled, Jack and Alison linger over leisurely dinners or book afternoon spa appointments. They’re not totally oblivious. Mornings on the trout stream allow for witty repartee and the exchange of information. “Hey, wasn’t it strange that …?” I wanted to shout: “Yes, Jack, that was strange. You and Alison need to get the hell outta there!” Has Jack learned nothing from his experience in The River? Perhaps that’s Heller’s point: was Jack so traumatized from his prior canoe experience that he has difficulty piecing together the potentially dangerous significance of his observations? Maybe, but I don’t think so.
Eventually, Jack and Alison do wake up and piece together the clues, and Heller ramps up the tension and quickens the pace, propelling the action towards the exciting, if somewhat overwrought, conclusion. In fairness, the brisk pace is largely consistent throughout the book, and while Jack and Alison’s dawdling was indeed distracting, Heller's skill as a storyteller overcomes what would otherwise be a fatal flaw in less capable hands.
As always, Heller’s prose, spare and lyrical, rarely disappoints. For what is in many respects an elegy to fly fishing, Heller largely avoids cliche. Even a non-angler can relate to and appreciate his descriptions. So too his masterful renderings of and meditations on regret, memory, and most vividly, the verdant mountain milieu, all of which steer clear of mawkish sentimentality. When all is said and done, Heller manages once again to demonstrate that writing a thrilling adventure yarn and producing meaningful literature need not be a mutually exclusive endeavor.
RATING: 4.5 out of 5 stars
COMMENT: I’d like to thank the extraordinary Rick O. for allowing me the privilege of writing this guest review. A terrific neighbor and a better man, Rick is the definition of resilience and perseverance. Father, grandfather, husband. I don’t know how he finds the time -- or energy -- to regularly crank out these thoughtful, insightful, and often witty reviews.
