Book Review: "The Tenderness of Wolves" by Stef Penney

I am not going to cross-post this one at the winter reading challenge. Why? Because it was reviewed there by someone else, who gave it a very good review. I read it on her advice, and I didn't like it at all, and I don't want to hurt her feelings or sound like a snob.

I wanted to like The Tenderness of Wolves, I really did. It won Britain's prestigious Costa Book Award (although how prestigious can it be, when they changed the name from the Whitbread Literary Award to the name of a corporate sponsor?) Set in 1867 in the Hudson Bay area of Canada, it encompasses history, romance, suspense, adventure ... all the ingredients of a fun novel to read.

Except for the one essential ingredient: good writing. Call me a literary snob -- that's OK, I can take it. I don't pretend that I could do better, or even half as well at writing fiction, but I have an emotional response to poor writing that makes it hard for me to enjoy a story even if it is interesting in other ways. (Conversely, I can finish a novel that is ridiculously bad if it is well written.)

The Tenderness of Wolves started out well enough, setting up the plot. We meet the main character, Mrs. Ross, a Scottish immigrant with a dark past. But she has redeemed herself and made a life in this rugged part of Canada, a life which includes a somewhat distant husband, a child who died, and an adopted teen-aged son. There is a murder, around which the story revolves. There are side stories too: Two young girls who disappeared years before, a Utopian Norwegian settlement, a carved bone tablet. (Scotland, Norway, Canada ... my three favorite places in the world. See why I wanted to like this book?)

The writing? It was little things at first. Repetition of phrases: "Her tea had gone stone cold." (Why couldn't it go "ice cold" or just "cold" by the second or third reference?) Unexplained shifts in characters' personalities. Predictability: Donald is in love with Susannah, so why is he only able to conjure up Maria's face in his imagination? Gee, I wonder ... I dislike it when authors use stupidity of characters as a literary device.

Then there was the cartoon-like characterization of the Native people, as "noble savages." One of the central themes of Tenderness is an idea which is credited to "the Chippewa" -- the sickness of long thinking -- or as one of the characters explains, "You cannot tame a wild animal, because it will alway remember where it is from, and yearn to go back." I don't know for sure, but I can't help but wonder whether that is authentic or is something the author made up, just because it sounds Native and spiritual. (Now I'm being cynical.)

There was at least one instance of just plain sloppy historical research. In one scene a character is reading the book Pudd'nhead Wilson by Mark Twain. The problem is, this story takes place in 1867 and Pudd'nhead Wilson wasn't published until 1894! The Guardian, in a review, finds it "impressive" that the author could write this book without ever having visited Canada. I think it's obvious from her writing that she never visited Canada!

True confessions: I didn't finish the book. I reached a point where something of a sexual nature was about to be revealed and I quit. I am not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but there have been too many times when I've been reading a perfectly enjoyable book, and suddenly I run into what I call "the throbbing member." (Eeeeuuuwwwww.) Frankly, I hate the way so many authors write about sex. It's the kiss of death for me when I'm reading a book -- and it's not the presence of sex, it's the way the author writes it. (Because I love Diana Gabaldon's books!) Anyway, I could sense that The Tenderness of Wolves was straying dangerously close to throbbing members, and given that I was already highly critical of so many other aspects of the book, I decided that my time would be better spent reading something else.

Now I'm reading the novel Dawn Land by Joseph Bruchac. I'll give you a full report when I'm finished.