In this first story of a series of short stories by A. S. Peterson, Colonel Barnabas Bead and his faithful lieutenant, Horton Adams, have been assigned to a remote Confederate outpost in the Appalachian Mountains, but the road they take to get there may lead them somewhere else entirely.
i recently discovered Mr. Peterson's work through the Rabbit Room (rabbitroom.com), where i found his two-novel historical fiction series, several short stories, and other articles and essays that he has written over the course of the last several years. He has a great voice and an uncanny knack for slipping subtle humour into his horror stories, which i absolutely love. But out of everything i've read of his so far, this is unquestionably the best example of his literary craftsmanship.
The first page alone was beautiful. It set the scene so evocatively, creating a tone that was at once peaceful and frigid, promising a tale that i, like Barnbabas, would not soon forget. i was captivated immediately.
And then i turned the page.
Peterson's trademark humour mixes wonderfully with his expert tragedy. At the bottom of page 3, i found the following: "His answer came in the form of a musket ball through the front window. *Crack* said the old muzzleloader, and *crack* said the window, and then 'Damn!' said Barnabas Bead and down he went with an ounce and a half of lead ball in his shoulder." That line still cracks me up, and i have read this story about four times. But his humour ranges wide from rollicking to subtle, and next to lines like "though Colonel Barnabas Bead watched sharply for the gates of victory to open, he never saw the door crack an inch—though he did see many of his finest boys cracked open nevermore to be shut" and "It was the look of a man for whom something precious had been lost but had also been forgotten and so is only mourned in brief moments when the wind brings him a familiar scent or the light reminds him of a barely remembered scene," the effect on the reader is a deeply satisfying sense of joyful melancholy. The last two pages are absolutely breathtaking. (Lines quoted out of context can never do any story justice, althoug there are many worth quoting.)
Readers of Fin's Revolution will jump up and gasp with pleasure in a few places, but there is no reason not to discover this fine author through this story before seeking out his other works. (And you definitely want to.) Look also for his newest short story, The Oracle of Philadelpia, released just today (5/8/14).
Ok, I absolutely loved Peterson's "Fiddler" books. Based on reviews, I expected to love this as well. However, nowhere in the reviews or write-up did I see the genre listed as "fantasy" or "tall-tale." Had I known that, I *might* have enjoyed this book, as Peterson is unrivaled, in my opinion, in writing modern prose, and I would have been prepared for the fantasy elements. (Any author that can get me to read the setting details must be amazing!) However, after my initial, gut-reaction to this book (1-star), I reconsidered it. His writing truly is amazing, so I took that into consideration and bumped my rating to 2 stars. But truly, I did not enjoy this book. I did not like the bumbling main character at all, and it's the main character that has to speak to me.
Peterson returns all too briefly to the world of Fin's Revolution to restore wonder one more time. The title character, Bead, longs to live out the same stories his father told of the voyages of the Esprit de la Mer, but spends a lifetime seeking the ship to no avail. In the valley of death something astounding, disturbing, and wondrous overtakes him and his companion. Peterson's command of language and story is arresting, awe inspiring, and points to a joy seen in the works of Chesterton, Lewis, and Tolkien.
This was very well written. I loved the character of Adams, the faithful standby, with his extreme southern drawl. But I guess you need to read the Fiddler's Gun series first, because I definitely felt like I was missing something important.
I read and enjoyed both of Peterson's very solid "Fiddler's..." offerings, but the use of language and imagery in this short piece felt like such a great leap forward in the evolution of his craft that I was a little taken aback (and perhaps a tad jealous..?) at the gorgeousness of the writing. Well done.
After reading it once, I don't exactly know what this short was.... but I like it. Hints and whispers of something beyond...past....or ahead. Maybe where the wintry white becomes enchanting green while the sounds of Phin's fiddle turns it beautiful.
I did not chortle nor sniggle, but I did laugh at loud a couple of times in this introductory novelette. Looking forward to more great writing from Pete's pen.