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A review by kris_mccracken
The Plague of Doves by Louise Erdrich
3.0
Louise Erdrich's "The Plague of Doves" is a novel that insists upon your full intellectual attention, offering layers of meaning for those patient enough to unearth them. Its ambition is undeniable, weaving a tapestry of voices, histories and secrets set against the fraught backdrop of Pluto, North Dakota. Yet, for all its beauty and intricacy, the book often feels like trying to decode an ancient manuscript by candlelight, rewarding in parts but equally exasperating.
Erdrich's prose is exquisite, but the weight of history bears heavily on every page, with the 1911 lynching of Native Americans anchoring the narrative in tragedy. Mooshum, the lone survivor of the massacre, lingers throughout the story like a revenant, his survival casting long shadows over generations. The revelations - delivered with a poker player's precision - are masterfully timed, but the relentless heft of guilt, memory and myth risks tipping into suffocation.
The structure, employing multiple narrators, is both its triumph and its trial. Each voice adds nuance, contradiction and texture, much like a family argument where no one has the full story but everyone insists they're right. This cacophony is rich in theory but dense in practice; keeping track of the sprawling cast feels rather like attending a family reunion where you can't remember half the names or how anyone's connected.
Evelina's arc is among the more compelling threads, yet even she gets somewhat lost in the crowd. The paradox here is striking: a deeply intimate story that somehow keeps the reader at a curious distance. The complexity occasionally feels more exhausting than enlightening, like untangling fairy lights that have been knotted together for decades.
Erdrich is unquestionably a master of her craft, and The Plague of Doves is a remarkable feat of generational storytelling. Yet it's not an easy book to love. For all its elegance and gravitas, it left me admiring its construction without ever quite feeling its heart.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Erdrich's prose is exquisite, but the weight of history bears heavily on every page, with the 1911 lynching of Native Americans anchoring the narrative in tragedy. Mooshum, the lone survivor of the massacre, lingers throughout the story like a revenant, his survival casting long shadows over generations. The revelations - delivered with a poker player's precision - are masterfully timed, but the relentless heft of guilt, memory and myth risks tipping into suffocation.
The structure, employing multiple narrators, is both its triumph and its trial. Each voice adds nuance, contradiction and texture, much like a family argument where no one has the full story but everyone insists they're right. This cacophony is rich in theory but dense in practice; keeping track of the sprawling cast feels rather like attending a family reunion where you can't remember half the names or how anyone's connected.
Evelina's arc is among the more compelling threads, yet even she gets somewhat lost in the crowd. The paradox here is striking: a deeply intimate story that somehow keeps the reader at a curious distance. The complexity occasionally feels more exhausting than enlightening, like untangling fairy lights that have been knotted together for decades.
Erdrich is unquestionably a master of her craft, and The Plague of Doves is a remarkable feat of generational storytelling. Yet it's not an easy book to love. For all its elegance and gravitas, it left me admiring its construction without ever quite feeling its heart.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐