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A review by dennisjacobrosenfeld
Hold the Dark by William Giraldi
5.0
Once in a blue moon I read a book so good, I find myself struggling to describe how fantastic it is and why. "Hold the Dark" by William Giraldi is an example of that. I've been taking my time with it, savoring the poetry of every sentence, and allowing myself to sink into the dark abyss the book opened before me. A violent tale of a small and secluded village in Alaska. I'm still struggling to find a way of describing the plot without ruining the book. I might do a proper review once the experience has settled within me. Suffice to say that this is one of those rare gems of modern literature I wouldn't hesitate to call it a work of art. It has the makings of a classic, and I would say that Giraldi's literary heritage lies with Melville, Conrad and London.
I've taken the liberty to include some quotes from the book that hopefully will show why I find it such a great read. Consider this the digital equivalent of me pushing a book into your hands and saying: Read this! Don't ask any questions. Just read it.
"The wolves came down from the hills and took the children of Keelut."
"The tea warmed his limbs, a lone orange coal or glowing hive pulsing from the center of him"
"Like grief, cold is an absence that takes up space. Winter wants the soul and bores into the body to get it."
"Above them a passel of ravens erupted from the keep of trees like black memories freed, their wings in wild applause."
"... he was beginning to fear that man belongs neither in civilization nor nature - because we are aberrations between two states of being."
I've taken the liberty to include some quotes from the book that hopefully will show why I find it such a great read. Consider this the digital equivalent of me pushing a book into your hands and saying: Read this! Don't ask any questions. Just read it.
"The wolves came down from the hills and took the children of Keelut."
"The tea warmed his limbs, a lone orange coal or glowing hive pulsing from the center of him"
"Like grief, cold is an absence that takes up space. Winter wants the soul and bores into the body to get it."
"Above them a passel of ravens erupted from the keep of trees like black memories freed, their wings in wild applause."
"... he was beginning to fear that man belongs neither in civilization nor nature - because we are aberrations between two states of being."