THROUGH BLACK SPRUCE

A vigorous picture of life near “James Bay in the Arctic Lowlands of Ontario” distinguishes this second novel from the Canadian-born author (Three Day Road, 2005).

The book, which was awarded Canada’s prestigious Giller Prize, begins unevenly, with a setup much too reminiscent of Michael Ondaatje’s The English Patient: a history “dreamed” by Cree Indian bush pilot Will Bird, as he lies comatose in a hospital bed, and juxtaposed with the story recalled by Will’s niece Annie, keeping a vigil beside him, of her southward journey to seek her missing younger sister Suzanne, a runaway who became a successful fashion model and “party girl.” Boyden ends it even more awkwardly, with a semi-surprising disclosure about a crime that still pursues Will, and a concluding reconciliation that’s improbable and sentimental. Between these extremes, the book is frequently energized by visionary splendor and raw emotional force. Annie is a fantastically observed character. A tough, vibrant woman, she’s sustained by an increasingly loving relationship with her withdrawn “protector” Gordon and is unafraid to enter the worlds of narcotic and sexual excess that appear to have claimed Suzanne. Alas, the Manhattan scenes too often read like inert chick lit. Fortunately, the story is redeemed by Boyden’s rich portrayal of the stoical Will, most fully realized in a subtly fragmented account of Will’s arduous stay on a remote island (Akimiski), where wind and weather stalk him as relentlessly as do his old enemies—and his only companions are an elderly settler couple who seem to possess an almost mystical knowledge of his history, marauding polar bears and, in a brilliantly resonating image, a whale skeleton that washed up out of the bay.

Though the forced, contrived plot almost submerges the novel, the sensuous apprehension of a distant, perilous, ineffably beautiful world draws us in and won’t let us go.