A review by gene_poole
Far North by Marcel Theroux

2.0

If the first hundred pages of a three hundred page novel don't intrigue, it's time to move on. Is that your rule, or are you easier to convince? Perhaps because lately I have been reading a load of maximalist heavyweights that Far North, despite its admirers, seems painfully underwritten. What might have been a match for a Cormac McCarthy moral wilderness is only a superficial landscape. Makepeace isn't much of a protagonist, short on insightful reflections and short on the wily attitude a master of the wilderness ought to have.

All her plot situations, at least in the first third, reveal only her flatness. Theroux's character could have been a mysterious traveler or a philosopher of isolation, but she's neither. This novel amounts to another entry in the post-apocalyptic genre, yet sans apocalypse or world-in-collapse scenario (the hippie, Quaker and fundamentalists who found a quasi state in Siberia are standard characters).

Torture yourself with its predecessor, The Road, if you want more anguish, or Riddley Walker if you want more substance.