I've got peace like the river my brother is crossing on his stolen horse

In rural Minnesota in the 1960's, Davy Land shoots two antagonizing boys and escapes on horseback. First lauded as a hero for protecting his family, Davy soon gains notoriety and negative fame--yet Davy is not even the most compelling character in Peace Like a River. That award goes to younger brother Reuben Land (with spunky sister Swede close by). Asthmatic, weak Reuben is fiercely devoted to his family, even though his brother's an outlaw and he can't quite figure out the deep connection his father, Jeremiah, has with God.

The Land family eventually leaves the tiny town of Roofing in hopes of finding Davy...and along the way, they manage to find courage, hope, and trust in each other, no matter how illogical it may seem. But do they ever reconcile with Davy? And can they reconcile their love for him with their obligation to obey the law? Guess you'll just have to read the book...

Peace Like a River, despite its deceptively lackluster title, is spilling over with lovely prose. The whole thing is poetic--not in a flowery way, but in a subtle and very creative manner. Leif Enger's descriptions work magic with such ordinary things as snow, lignite coal, or even a pockmarked complexion. No joke. This is some delicious writing! There is some overwriting that could stand to be tamed, but for the most part, if words could be stirred together and baked, this would come out like a loaf of honey-tinged oat bread your grandma used to make from scratch. (Or that you wished your grandma would make. Mine didn't do a lot of bread-baking. She did, however, make about fifty waffles to feed just six people and kept throwing them on the plate until my brother and I thought we'd die. But that's a different story...)

As for the story itself, it took me awhile to get into Peace. Though set in places close to my heart (the very dear North Dakota and Minnesota), it was hard at first to get jazzed about something that drew references from so much cowboy literature. (I have never been a fan of cowboys or westerns. Thank goodness my inner farmgirl urged me to keep reading!) But, if you can get past little Swede's romantic notion of cowboys (and her incessant verses about the fictional Sunny Sundown, whose escapades closely resemble the Land family adventures), you'll find that Enger draws not only from the Old West but from Robert Louis Stevenson and the Bible and obscure poetry. Plus, his characters grow so deep and start to root inside you. Swede in particular is reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird's Scout, though maybe a little saucier. And Reuben, our narrator, has an uncanny knack for observing details that adults tend to miss; perhaps his few scrapes with death came with the bonus gift of insight--to make up for all that wheezing. (To be fair, both are a bit too insightful for their age. Swede has mad cooking and writing skills and is eloquent to the point of being unbelievable. They're kind of like adults in smaller bodies.)

There are a few places the story lagged a little. In fact, despite revolving around a murder, there isn't a whole lot of action in this story. Lots of contemplation, revelation, and even frustration, but fast-paced it isn't. And mostly, that's okay. Woven throughout the plotline are snippets about faith, including several miraculous events. What I like about Jeremiah Land's brand of faith is that it's hard-working and honest. Even when things are not for his personal benefit, he does them because they're right. Jeremiah is played off almost as a Christ figure, though I think he's too passive to be a good representation (really, can anyone be?). This is not a heavy-handed message by any means, even though faith plays an important part in the overall story. I like how Reuben clarifies his own beliefs not by turning preachy, but by following up his recollections with "Make of it what you will." I also liked that, though God appeared to bestow certain miracles on Jeremiah, it wasn't like a laser-stream of power; rather, Jeremiah asked God for guidance and obeyed. What would be so great about a dad who could zap everyone he didn't like and fix every problem? Okay, I could name a few things. But still.

The book is a little sad, unsettling at times, and I'm still not sure what to think about the ending. I do know that once I got through the first few chapters, Reuben reached out his small, tender hand and pulled me right in. The tedious moments are far outweighed by the pithy, sharp statements the Land children offer. By the time I hit the final page, there was a little sadness about leaving behind such memorable kids. I enjoyed Peace, but not for its originality or ingenuity. Mostly, I hadn't come across such beautiful, canny writing in such a long time, and I'm glad I did, even if I had to read about cowboys and snow and a few of my non-favorite things along the way.

If you're looking for something that's a little Steinbeck-ish, with maybe a dash of Harper Lee, and if you can momentarily handle a painstaking pace and insufferable rhymes about cowboys, Peace Like a River might be just your book!