Atticus

Ron Hansen

One of the marks of a truly bang-up mystery novel for me is finding out that the mystery doesn't reveal itself until over halfway through the novel, and me finding out I don't give a whit. Fully sixty percent of Hansen's novel is setup, as Atticus, a rancher from the Rockies, discovers that his son has (supposedly) committed suicide in Mexico, travels down there, and meets some of the people his son spent time with. Hansen tells the whole thing from an omniscient perspective, but still manages to convey Atticus' conflicting senses of wide-eyed wonder at the scenery, grief for his son, attraction for his son's ex-lover (who has a thing for older men), and general amusement-mixed-with-horror at the living conditions of the always-present Mexican poor. By the time Atticus starts wondering if his son really committed suicide, the mystery actually seems as if it's going to get in the way of all this wonderful characterization, the Atticus-Renata sexual tension subplot, etc. Instead, the mystery portion just makes the novel that much more fun, as Atticus plays amateur detective (refreshingly, he's awful at it). The twist at the end is entirely unexpected, but it wouldn't have mattered; the predictable ending would have been just fine with me. I didn't care about the mystery (maybe because Scott, Atticus' son, is something of a right bastard) as much as I cared about what was going to happen to Atticus himself. It's one of those novels that compels a reader to turn the pages while simultaneously crying out to be savored for the richness of its language, and those are all too rare. This is a keeper, most definitely.