Not long ago, I was mesmerized by David Vann’s exceptional and perceptive collection, Legend of a Suicide – a mythology of his father’s death. I wondered whether his first full-length novel would capture the magic and raw energy of that astonishing book.

The answer, I’m pleased to say, is yes.

Beware: Caribou Island is NOT for readers who are looking for “likeable characters” and Hollywood-type endings. It ventures into dark emotional territory that’s not always comfortable to reside in – the same type of territory that’s inhabited by, say, Martha and George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolff. In other words, it packs a wallop.

Gary and Irene are a couple who have lived for years in Alaska, “an open space, an opportunity to forget about something as small as heartache.” There’s a juxtaposition of Alaska as a grand and vast space with the downright claustrophobia of a marriage falling apart. Irene reluctantly “signs on” to Gary’s desire to build a cabin from the ground up in uninhabited and remote Caribou Island.

The cabin becomes a metaphor for their lives. Irene thinks, “Maybe you can nail each layer down into the next…if the could take all their previous selves and nail them together, get who they were five years ago and twenty-five years to fit closer together, maybe they’d have a sense of something solid.”

But that is not to be. Instead, Irene views herself as “chilled and alone…not the expansive vision you’d be tempted to have, spreading your arms on some sunny day on an open slope of purple lupine, looking at mountains all around.” Irene, if truth be known, is falling apart; she is having extreme flashbacks to the time when she found her mother, a suicide. And Gary is totally lost, searching for himself in the infinity of Alaska.

Gary reflects, “You could only find an outward shape…if you followed your calling. If you took the wrong path, all you could shape was monstrosity.” And indeed, it’s evident from the beginning that the cabin is, indeed, that monstrosity.

The legacy of mother to daughter – and daughter to her own children – plays out throughout this book. Rhoda, their daughter, is trying her best to reconcile her dreams of love with a man who is poised to disappoint her. And Mark, their son, has dropped out entirely, living month-to-month and unable to commit to much of anything.

For the sense of place…for the imagery and prose…for the fierceness of Vann’s imagination, this is a book that is stunning to read. Even though his characters will never fulfill their promise, David Vann has certainly fulfilled his.