Customer Reviews

Dogs of Winter

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(14)
3 star:		(8)
2 star:		(5)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

This is not the kind of book I would normally pick up. The title is not so great. "Dogs of Winter" sounds like a straight-to-video action flick starring Charlie Sheen.

Then you read the back cover copy.

It's about a mystical cove in California. A place surfers talk about in hushed tones. The Devil's Hoof, home to the last great wave. Nobody has ever found it, but many have searched in vain. Until now. When I read that, I thought: okay - it's a surfer version of that over-rated Alex Garland book, "The Beach".

A group made up of two young surfers, a grizzled old photographer, a legendary surfer and a young kid find the cove and decide to make something of it, which riles the local Indian population somewhat. When the kid vanishes beneath one of the great waves, the local Indian population decide to retaliate: the legendary surfer's half-mad wife is abducted and the young surfer, the old photographer and the legendary surfer disappear into the woods roundabout. At which point, it's a case of Alex Garland's "The Beach" meets - what? "Straw Dogs"? "Deliverance"?

I'll tell you. When I started reading I thought: this is a book without surprises.

I only started reading because of a conversation with a friend. We were talking about end-of-year polls, how you can often hear about books and music that passed you by, how you can often pick up a treat that otherwise you might have missed. He told me that he spotted "Dogs of Winter" in one such poll two or more years ago. He told me I should read it and - you know, you feel kind of obligated after that, right?

Recommendation notwithstanding, I approached this book like I'd approach a snake with it's back up.I'll tell you - I'll hold my hands up - I was wrong. This is not in the least like you expect it to be.

The thread of the novel primarily winds itself about three people - Fletcher (the grizzled old photographer I told you about), Kendra (the half-mad wife of the legendary surfer) and a local police guy / mediator called Travis. All of whom are in some way flawed. Fletcher used to be a great photographer but now he is relegated to weddings and drinking in the morning. Kendra has a history of insanity and worries about being her father's daughter, her father being the kind of guy who beat his wife and worked his way in and out of one institution or another. Travis used to be a hell-raiser, and has a reputation as a womaniser, but really he is a failure: two failed marriages and a kid he doesn't really know. When Travis stands out by the sea in the fog with his father, you see two versions of the same old goat.

Kem Nunn frustrates your expectations through deft deflection for the most part. Action occurs off camera. You chance upon the big plot turns after the fact - the reader is wandering about in the woods with all these other people, and you have as much chance as they do to converge upon what happens next. The convergences are not the most important parts of the story.

The weight of the book lies in the spaces between what happened before and what happens next, the still moments as characters watch the sky and regret choices (choices that shaped lives, choices that shaped the action over the previous pages).

"Dogs in Winter" is not a B-movie, straight-to-video action flick. "Dogs in Winter" is about age and the baggage you accumulate as you make your way from Point A to Point B. Towards the end of the book, Travis says:

"A man should have something . . . some thread to the earth, lest he lose even the ground beneath his feet."

That's what all of these people are looking for. (I suppose you'd call it sense: that attempt to articulate and make sense of the larger things - like the effect of the sea upon the lives of those who live by the coast - even though the larger things often refuse articulation.)

Fletcher sums this up:

"It was his hope that these things were so ordered, though there was little foundation for this hope save hope itself."

The people in the book (Hell, the people reading the book) have hopes - frustrated or otherwise - and reading that acts like a congress, part sweet part sour. It's not the kind of book that would normally have caught my eye. Sometimes it's good to know people, good to have books (and ideas and anything else) thrust into your hand, sometimes it's good to be told what to do, because otherwise you'd miss out on the things that might otherwise have passed you by.

I read Kem Nunn's previous novel "Tapping the Source" and thoroughly enjoyed it. It wasn't "my kind of novel" but I still scarfed that book down. It also gave me a nice appreciation for the surfing mentality. I found "The Dogs of Winter" many years later and gave it a try. Kem's ability to draw me into the novel is disturbing but admirable. I can't begin to understand the motivations of the characters in the beginning, but as I continue to be drawn into the novel and its characters I find that their stories are not so different from those of real people I know. I relate to the characters on a gut level which tosses aside any differences I have with them. Before long I'm eager to see what happens regardless of the fundamental lack of shared philosophy, lifestyle or motives. Too top off the good characterization Kem Nunn has a real understanding of the environment he's writing about. From the knowledge of surfers and their mindset to the region and the climate they challenge, I really feel like I'm walking the shores of the Northern California Pacific coast. It's a scary place with its extremes in weather but also full of beautiful detail and wonder. This guy can cook. I've never had a big interest in surfing or surfers, however, just like my experience with his previous novel, by the end of this book I'm almost ready to jump on a board to try my hand in the numbingly cold waters of the north Pacific. Luckily the sharks and the huge, deep Pacific waves are there keep me out of the water. Did I mention that I cramp easily?

Man, this was an astonishingly good book, that used surfing as a background to a harrowing tale of full of fear, darkness and in the end, redemption. Nunn's a great storyteller, and I barely put the book down until I finished it.

Nunn has an eye for sides of life that many among us would never see -- or even imagine -- if it weren't for his skilful writing. This novel, set on the lonely far northwest coast of California, covers plenty of those sides of humanity as surf and native american culture mix with a little of the occult. For the surfer, there are waves and surf spots of legend on this coast -- if you know where to find them. But one sometimes pays a very high price for a great wave, as some find out in The Dogs of Winter.

I don't really want to give away any of the plot, but for what I've written. The Dogs of Winter is a unique book that any mystery fan would like, surfer or not. It's a very fine effort by an author who I hope will be more prolific. I highly recommend it.

__________________________________________________

Three men on a quest for the surfers' Holy Grail. Through a Wasteland darkened by evil. If they survive the journey, whose blood will spill into the chalice?

Written by the author of cult favorite TAPPING THE SOURCE, Kem Nunn's THE DOGS OF WINTER is a moody, compelling novel about surfing and the lightless depths of the human heart.

The story centers on three surfers' adventurous trip through the wilderness to surf and photograph Heart Attacks, "California's premier mysto wave, the last secret spot." Unfortunately for them (but not for us), these are strange bed-fellows. Legendary Drew Harmon is as menacing as the shark that ripped out pieces of his flesh and as elemental as the 30 foot waves he rides. Robbie Jones, cresting the wave of surfing stardom, loves Jesus and fires a mean wrist rocket. And Jack Fletcher takes stunning photographs of waves and surfers but can't seem to get a clear focus on his own life.

Then there are the Indians who stand in their way. The Moke, a septuagenarian shaman who likes to party hearty. And an unholy trinity of up-river bad guys who seem to have sprung from some artesian well of pure evil.

Further complications arise when the Indians take captive Drew's land-locked wife, Kendra, who empowers herself by performing magic rituals and wearing the clothes of a murdered girl. Also stumbling into the picture is Travis McCade, half Hupa Indian and half "wagay" (non-Indian), a romantic trouble-shooter whose attempts at heroism usually end by shooting himself in the foot.

Refreshingly, these characters are all "off-beat" in fascinating ways. If they're marching to a different drummer, evidently he's from some other planet.

Nunn's writing style is engaging. At times it feels like the dark, brooding atmosphere just before a tropical storm. Then we're swept completely away by the storm's fury when it hits. And in its flashes of lightning, we catch dim glimpses of serpentine twists and turns that never take us remotely where we expect to go. It's an unsettling effect -- like looking at a collection of photographs taken by some omniscient and slightly mad photographer.

And yes, we caught Nunn's wave, and we're riding it in. But where is it taking us -- to the sun-lit shore, or deeper into the heart of darkness?

Atmosphere is king in Nunn's forth novel, an oddly assembled and arranged rambling semi-thriller about the quest to find a legendary secret surfing spot on the far northern California coast. The story treads much of the same turf as Alex Garland's The Beach, James Dickey's Deliverance, and Conrad's Heart of Darkness-but pales in comparison to all of them (yes, even The Beach). We meet a rapidly aging down-and-out surfing photographer who gets one last chance: he's to accompany two young pro surf hotshots as they meet up with a former legend who claims to know where the secret spot is and will guide them there. With this holy grail of surfing as the catalyst, the men journey to way northern California to meet the old legend, who lives with his weird young wife in Indian land. She forms the basis for another plotline, as she asks around about a local girl who was apparently murdered by an Indian. For reasons that are never explained, she's obsessed with local Indian witchcraft, and wanders the woods at night. One of the novel's big flaws is that she's very poorly drawn, and it's hard to understand why she's married to the ex-surfer king, or what she's doing there.

As the surfers pursue their primal communion with the ocean, they manage to stir up trouble with the Indians, who aren't keen on outsiders. Next thing you know, some serious evil types arrive from "upriver", where the meth labs are... The tension mounts as the surfers hike all over, looking for the spot, unaware that some stone-killer Indians are on their trail. Eventually, the various obsessions and plotlines start to get all tangled up, and even the well-meaning people in the story can't escape. The whole thing is kind of alternately cheezy and offhandedly violent. Nunn certainly doesn't add anything to the "quest" genre or the thriller genre, but he does provide some great atmosphere. The opressiveness of the heavily wooded rugged coastline, with scary liquor stores, unfriendly natives, and ramshackle summer cabins, is vividly unsettling. But there are too many strands, too many underdeveloped characters, and too much sloppiness to really make it all worthwhile, although those with a strong interest in surfing may find more to like in it.

After reading Kem Nunn's "Tapping the Source," I wanted more. "Dogs of Winter" was my next choice. This is an even more ambitious and atmospheric novel with an eclectic cast of characters. Legendary surfer, Drew Harmon, recruits fellow surfer, Robbie Jones, and "washed up" surf photographer, Jack Fletcher, to shoot video of the surfers conquering "Heart Attacks," a mysterious spot somewhere on the Pacific Northwest coast.

Drew Harmon is a selfish loose cannon, intentionally oblivious to the delicate territorial rules of the Native Americans in the wilderness the three must hike to get to Heart Attacks. Drew is driven to the point of spooking Robbie Jones, carefree and immature, along for the adventure, and Jack Fletcher. Fletcher, excited about trying to erase the low point of his photography career with new surfing video, represents the conscience of the trio as their adventure turns into a fight for their lives when their presence upsets the balance of life among the tribes in the wilderness.

Generally, the Native Americans are not portrayed in a flattering way in this book. I don't know the truth, but trust that Nunn did his research. Travis McCade is a Native American lawman, who tries to maintain the peace enough to keep the federal government out of the affairs of the tribes. Just as Jack Fletcher is the moral conscience of the surfers, Travis McCade is the conscience of the Native Americans, trying to keep the events unfolding before him from slipping into uncontrollable chaos.

Nunn, as with "Tapping the Source," has a well-crafted story to tell and tells it in page-turning style, from the surf sequences, the battle with the Native Americans who resent the surfers' intrusion, and the ominous build-up to Drew Harmon's true motivations and dark secret.

Unfortunately, Nunn's writing style is schizophrenic. At times, it is concise and dramatic; at other times, it is wordy, convoluted, and a chore to read. As I read the book, a pattern seemed to develop: his dialogue is excellent, and description of action sequences are hard-hitting and to the point. All narrative in between becomes heavy, slow, and burdensome to read. I looked for purpose in almost interminable sentences, and usually found none. Not being able to believe that Nunn did not have purpose to his prose style, I concede that some of the surfing sequences benefitted from longer sentences to create the flow of an unfolding wave and the process of riding it. Inexplicable use of passive voice dragged a lot of the narrative down. I found myself wanting to turn the page to see what happens next, but dreading being confronted with ponderous prose. Reading sometimes seemed as hard as the surfers' arduous journey through the wilderness and coastline. (I'm sure that wasn't Nunn's intent.) If it weren't for the strong story, I may have put this book down.

I will probably seek out more of Kem Nunn's work, and hope that the writing is more consistent and concise. I guess "Tapping the Source" is a tough act to follow. But, in general, "Dogs of Winter" was a good follow-up for me. The story takes place in a wider landscape that is at once beautiful and terrifying, and provided more insight into the surf experience.

Another great surfing novel by Kem Nunn. If you enjoyed "Tapping The Source", this one is a must read!

I truly enjoyed the book. Highly recommended to keep you company on those surf trips that take you to cold parts of the world.

Another great novel from another great novelist. In the tradition of Tapping The Source, another great read. Kept me interested right through to the end. I don't normally read that many books, and when I do read, it usually takes me a few weeks to get through an average-sized novel. But like Kem Nunn's other books, I knocked this one over in a week.

_________________________________________________________________

Three men on a quest for the surfers' Holy Grail. Through a Wasteland darkened by evil. If they survive the journey, whose blood will spill into the chalice?

Written by the author of cult favorite TAPPING THE SOURCE, Kem Nunn's THE DOGS OF WINTER is a moody, compelling novel about surfing and the lightless depths of the human heart.

The story centers on three surfers' adventurous trip through the wilderness to surf and photograph Heart Attacks, "California's premier mysto wave, the last secret spot." Unfortunately for them (but not for us), these are strange bed-fellows. Legendary Drew Harmon is as menacing as the shark that ripped out pieces of his flesh and as elemental as the 30 foot waves he rides. Robbie Jones, cresting the wave of surfing stardom, loves Jesus and fires a mean wrist rocket. And Jack Fletcher takes stunning photographs of waves and surfers but can't seem to get a clear focus on his own life.

Then there are the Indians who stand in their way. The Moke, a septuagenarian shaman who likes to party hearty. And an unholy trinity of up-river bad guys who seem to have sprung from some artesian well of pure evil.

Further complications arise when the Indians take captive Drew's land-locked wife, Kendra, who empowers herself by performing magic rituals and wearing the clothes of a murdered girl. Also stumbling into the picture is Travis McCade, half Hupa Indian and half "wagay" (non-Indian), a romantic trouble-shooter whose attempts at heroism usually end by shooting himself in the foot.

Refreshingly, these characters are all "off-beat" in fascinating ways. If they're marching to a different drummer, evidently he's from some other planet.

Nunn's writing style is engaging. At times it feels like the dark, brooding atmosphere just before a tropical storm. Then we're swept completely away by the storm's fury when it hits. And in its flashes of lightning, we catch dim glimpses of serpentine twists and turns that never take us remotely where we expect to go. It's an unsettling effect -- like looking at a collection of photographs taken by some omniscient and slightly mad photographer.

And yes, we caught Nunn's wave, and we're riding it in. But where is it taking us -- to the sun-lit shore, or deeper into the heart of darkness?