I don't normally review pulp fiction, but this one so irritated me that I am making an exception. Swings in voice within the first ten pages had convinced me that this was an author's first attempt at writing. I was surprised to learn that Ms. Stabenow is a well-published and award-winning author. Surely, this book won't further that line of accolades.
Examples of the book never finding a unifying voice range from annoying, cutesy asides like "He frowned down at the gingerbread, which didn't deserve it," to informative history about Alaska. The latter is an obvious strength of the author and she compellingly depicts northern, communal life. But the writing seems to indicate an author bored with her genre, who wants to break out of this character and book.
Examples:
"Then there was her seat on the Association board, definitely not a consummation devoutly to be wished, if she wanted to keep quoting poetry to herself, which she could if she wanted to." What?! For one thing, the character doesn't quote poetry to herself anywhere else in the book, as far as I can tell. It reads more like the author wants the reader to know just how well read she is, and that she could write more if she wanted to. Just so you know.
Such inane sentences grate against the rest of the local flavor of the writing.
"There was a premptory bark outside and Kate got up to admit the lupine member of the constabulary."
I hardly need to comment on that one. Enough to note that that author's narrative is sandwiched between dialogue like, "Yeah, yuck it up," and "That's a hell of a step up for them."
The reader almost feels sorry for the author who seems trapped by the format. Instead of breaking free and leaving the character behind, the writing dips and sways between advancing a storyline, essay writing and philosophical meanderings. Perhaps the author is stuck with a character/story that pays the bills, but is itching to have her readers change with her to focus on some other style of writing.
Two last pieces that really annoyed me, and then I'll have this book off of my chest.
One:
avoid writing gimmicks. The author seems to discover a new technique and then repeat it until she shifts to some other trick that she thinks is cute. Stuff like clever asides about the gingerbread. Stuff like having a character repeat what the narrative says.
"To a woman they stonewalled her. 'They're stonewalling me,' she said...."
"Place reminded him of an armed camp lately. 'Place reminds me of an armed camp lately,' he said...." (Both of these example fall within five paragraphs of each other.)
Two:
find ways to make your point other than repeating it over and over. A character in the book has a name change, which isn't a hugely signficant detail overall, but the author seems to think that the reader might miss it. "Greenbaugh--Gallagher..." "Greenbaugh--Gallagher--" "Greenbaugh--Gallagher!--" Those three phrases were within one page. And in case you didn't get it, 80 pages later you can read "Doyle--Dick--" "Doyle--Dick!--" "Doyle Greenbaugh--Dick Gallagher, dammit--" "Dick--that's right, Dick--" "Dick Gallagher, say it again, Dick Gallagher--" (All of those within three pages of reading.) Guess who the author wants you to think is important to her story? Or, maybe she just thinks that her readers are dense.
At any rate, in my rating system even the worst book scores a one. So "Whisper to the Blood" gets one star. I should figure out a way to score a zero.