The Wake of Forgiveness by Bruce Machart

Book: The Wake of Forgiveness

Author: Bruce Machart

Why I Read It: I had seen the cover and each time it drew me in just a little bit further until it finally found its way home with me.

First Line: "The blood had come hard from her, so much of it that, when Vaclav Skala awoke in wet bed linens to find her curled up against him on her side, moaning and glazed with sweat, rosary beads twisted around her clenched fingers, he smiled at the thought that she'd finally broken her water."

First Impression: Huh. I am surprised how appropriate this cover art is.

Last Impression: A subdued tale of a young man's struggle with his father and brothers ends up instead as a narrative of the power of women in their lives.

Ratings

Overall - 3 Resting Heart Rate

How Much I Liked It - 3  It was different than most of the novels I normally read and that was refreshing, but it didn't leave a strong impression on me.

Characters - 4 The characters were all dynamic and addicting, even when their actions were frustrating. No, especially when they were frustrating.

Story - 3 It was a unique place and idea, but instead of taking advantage of this uniqueness it just moseyed along.

Narration - 3 The narration was inconsistent; moments of poetry would fade into mundane narration but overall a pleasant experience.

Read Again? Absolutely. It was a quiet, peaceful read and I will be back when I miss that feeling.

Tell Others to Read? Perhaps if I know they appreciate literature or westerns. Otherwise this book could require a bit much of its readers, since the action is quiet and the timeline unstable.

Excerpt: Then, what has only just bloomed within him curls brittle and brown at the edges, and he believes now, in the slow seconds of understanding, ephemeral as they ever are, that what lies behind a man in the expanding landscape of his past can never be left behind entirely, that even the blazing, cotton-flecked fields of the summer can't sweat from him the hard, fallow crust of so many winters. he can almost put it into words, but it's fleet and then it's gone, and all that's left is the caustic certainty that there's no moving forward unbridled, that the weather-checked harness will never give, that the weight of all that is dragging behind will know no abatement.