I’m in a bit of a dilemma. You see I just finished reading Ordinary Wolves. This is a phenomenal first novel by Seth Kantner. Now all I want for is a more simple life. Since reading the book, I’ve seriously pondered selling our home, cars and camper to head for the hills and live off the land, even if it means eating an occasional porcupine, and not seeing people for months at a time. But then reality finds its way back in. And besides, I don’t think my husband, Jerry, will go for it.
What an extraordinary story Ordinary Wolves is. I went to journalism school at University of Montana with Kantner. I hung out with him occasionally. In particular, I recall going to cooking get-togethers with him. He was quite a cook and liked to drink good wine. I figured he was a smart guy. But I had no idea that I was in the company of such a brilliant writer and storyteller!
Kantner’s novel was honored with the Milkweed National Fiction Prize. This work is labeled fiction, but after reading Kantner’s one-of-a-kind descriptions you can’t help but feel this is very autobiographical (read: real.)
Within the first 14 pages, I had dog-eared several pages. Every time I came across something so eloquently stated, I would fold the page over. It was like stumbling on a little miracle of language each time, and yet it kept happening throughout the book. That’s what you can expect with this novel. It’s a discovery with every page.
The story is told by Cutuk Hawcly, a white boy growing up in remote Alaska with his siblings and father in a sod igloo. The only connection to the real world is what is delivered by the mail plane. Education is by correspondence books and phonics. The Hawclys are a self-sufficient, land- and animal-respecting family. Nothing goes to waste, and it’s a life so raw and pure and real that it makes readers like me want for a life that’s more simple and authentic.
As the story progresses, and Cutuk gets older, he struggles with being a white boy in Eskimo country, and yet feeling like a foreigner with respect to civilization as most of us know it. After a brief foray in the fast lane of Anchorage, Cutuk discovers he’s not complete away from his roots and the life from which he was raised. Nothing about the new scene makes sense to him and he misses what was familiar…his brother Jerry’s homemade bread, his sister Iris’s teasing and all that’s familiar to him, including “ordinary” wolves.
The rules and regulations in the front of the book prevent me from providing too much of a sampling of what readers can expect when they enjoy this book. But here’s a taste, at least. Kantner describes a chip of ice he flaked off of a window to eat while watching his Dad (more like a best friend) greet Wolfglove Enuk by saying The ice tasted like frozen breath and wet caribou hair. Or a ponderance about his mother, who left when Cutuk was very young: She’d left us alone with none of those thousand warm things children with mothers don’t count. And, Her leaving was the back wall of my memory.
I’ve never been to Alaska. Ordinary Wolves effectively introduces readers to Alaska. Kantner’s ability to describe the landscape is uncanny: The gray wool of the moving snow hid the horizons. Overhead the frozen sky purpled with night, and above the wind and frantic branches clung watery stars. His description of the Alaska cold reminds me a little of Jack London’s words, only more creative: The night cold was a monster now, merciless, pinching my face with pliers, sneaking fingers under my parka. You feel as if you’re there, in the dark and cold of Alaska: The dark was made of dots, walls of eyes.
In the night hunting “ordinary” wolves: Above, aurora wavered, green smoke ghosting in the dark, quick pale brush strokes, the bottoms tinted pink, twinging up in the black. The fire had sunk, hissing and steaming down on the lake ice. I knelt forward to salvage some coals. Smoke stung my eyes. Snow squeaked. The darkness moved into shapes. Slowly, I turned my head. Behind stood more.
When I get the opportunity, there’s nothing more I love to do than sit in a sunny spot and read a great novel. When I happen upon one like Ordinary Wolves, it’s like being treated to a home-made meal that’s delicious upon description. It’s satisfying in a way that can’t be described and when you’re done reading it, you’re better for it.
That’s what readers will find in Kantner’s wonderful Ordinary Wolves. I am waiting, eagerly, for his next book. If it doesn’t come soon, I will strongly consider mailing a letter to the author and plead with him to forego some moose-hunting for purposes of providing this former journalism school buddy with an encore.
Shelli Johnson owns and operates Yellowstone Journal Corporation, based in Lander, Wyo. Her company publishes two magazines, 99 Things to Do in Yellowstone Country, and Yellowstone Journal, as well as the award-winning > YellowstonePark.com.
