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A review by mattbeatty
Montana 1948 by Larry Watson
3.0
This short novel is spare and beautiful. I liked much about it, and though I didn't truly love it, it gave me a lot to reflect upon. A more modern version of the troublesome mentality of white settlers towards Native Americans. The difficulties of family, nepotism, and expectations in small communities. How our versions of reality don't always measure up to the very layered and complicated perspectives that make up the real world--especially when we are young.
Watson does a good job making his characters real, individual, and believable. His small town relationships are nuanced and thorough. In fact the town of Bentrock itself is a character, and one of my favorites at that.
I think I felt a bit too much emotional distance from the story and its tragedies, from all the characters really. And young David seemed too conincidentally to be able to find a hiding place within earshot of every significant conversation that occurred in the story (those types of conveniences don't bode well with me).
The book has great pacing and is a quick read, a novella. It does a great job invoking mid-20th century Montana. And aside from my semi-minor complaints, I came away with much to ponder. This sentiment specifically stuck with me:
"Even then I knew we were not responsible for the circumstances of our birth or the sins of our fathers." (142)
Watson does a good job making his characters real, individual, and believable. His small town relationships are nuanced and thorough. In fact the town of Bentrock itself is a character, and one of my favorites at that.
I think I felt a bit too much emotional distance from the story and its tragedies, from all the characters really. And young David seemed too conincidentally to be able to find a hiding place within earshot of every significant conversation that occurred in the story (those types of conveniences don't bode well with me).
The book has great pacing and is a quick read, a novella. It does a great job invoking mid-20th century Montana. And aside from my semi-minor complaints, I came away with much to ponder. This sentiment specifically stuck with me:
"Even then I knew we were not responsible for the circumstances of our birth or the sins of our fathers." (142)