First rate. So much beauty amidst so much horror and death. I don't think I've ever read such a violent, unsparing story. But the descriptions of the desert, of nature, were somehow both eloquently simple and at the same time as grand as the western landscape. Not an easy read, no doubt. Not an easy story to understand ultimately. But so rewarding nonetheless. Loved this book.

Read this again, June 2021. Rather, listened to it, which is something I never do. In fact, this is the first book I have ever listened to, which took some getting used to. It would have helped to have the physical copy on hand to refer back to but alas, no. I enjoyed the experience, the reader had the perfect voice for this book, deep and resonating and ominous-sounding. He used the perfect inflections to capture the characters' voices. It was somewhat marred by the mispronunciation of some words which somewhat jerked me out of the story at times. But as it was a youtube thingy and amateur, all things considered, it was a positive experience.

I have lived in Arizona for half of the year for 8 consecutive years. Being a Great Lakes born individual the desert landscape is a source of unending fascination, curiosity, horror. It is so alien to my frame of reference; so stark and simple in its beauty. So lethal. Whenever I'm a passenger in the car, even just driving to a neighboring city idly looking out at the desert landscape, it doesn't take much imagination to realize how tenuously the desert is held back by man... just biding time to a few years of no rain, of 100 plus days of 100 plus degree temperatures year after year after year. Even a brief walk through a parking lot can make this tender and pale skinned old lady feel shriveled up and parched, beat down by that oppressive sun in minutes. I can feel the "Cowboys and Indians" history. I see the wild horses and javelinas, coyotes and the roadrunners. I see the soft cottontail bunnies quaking in the underbrush, watch the vultures circling high above the palm trees and multi-million dollar homes.

Just recently, after a whole lifetime of believing mankind essentially "good" and "generous" and "kind" and "understanding" I've come to see a dark shadow within the soul of man. I've come to recognize the selfish, stubborn, ignorant, alas, violent life-force that is held back as tenuously as the western landscape in Arizona. I am the passenger seeing beyond the manicured lawns, the inground pools, the high-end shopping malls. I see the dry washes and dry riverbeds. I see scorched and dead chollas and ocotillos, see the mighty saguaros dusty and thirsty. I see the grit blown across the roadway, watch dust-devils whirl through empty lots. I see the blue cloudless sky, the furnace sun and I know it's just a matter of time.