Leif Enger is a masterful storyteller; more specifically, he is a weaver of tales about life in the northern Midwest state of Minnesota. “Peace Like a River,” his first novel, left me speechless with wonder as I pondered the beautiful characters and the calm prose. An action writer with a swift pace, he is not…but a developer of larger-than-life characters and authentic life scenarios is definitely his forte. But even more than that, his canny ability to describe inanimate objects with human characteristics by the turn of a well-worded phrase is the strength that makes a reader lean in and relish his books. Several times I caught myself pausing, re-reading the line, and then settling back with a contented grin.

Virgil’s life has just taken an odd turn. As Virgil describes it, “Apparently my heartbroken Pontiac breached a safety barrier and made a long, lovely some might say cinematic arc into the churning lake.” Fortunately for Virgil, an observer dove into icy Lake Superior to retrieve him, but throughout the story, he is on the road to recovery...recovery of his lost adjectives, of his physical strength, of his dreams.

Leif unfolds Virgil’s story with a variety of whimsical hometown locals who have known and loved him for years, but perhaps the strongest relationship is with a stranger, Rune, who arrives in this depleted industrial town looking for clues about the disappearance of his son. Though serious in his intent, Rune also has a philosophical outlook regarding life; that you should take pleasure in the small things around you. Virgil appreciates how Rune methodically creates and crafts kites for the sheer pleasure of it, how he spends time listening to hurting people, and finds joy in the raven that befriends him.

Kite-flying is the bridge to their relationship, and it is where the author adeptly uses his vocabulary to woo us. At their first meeting, Virgil spots the kite from his 2nd story apartment and wanders purposefully down to the lake to speak to the stranger. “It’s good in the air; this one,” Rune mused, “Not that it behaves. No No! Its manners are very terrible! But what a flyer...as if hearing its name, the kite woke riffling in his hands.”

Once Virgil catches the kite flying fever, he thinks, “Who doesn’t want to be carried sometimes? Come to think of it; it sounded a little like how I felt flying Rune’s kites.” And towards the end of the story, after an acquaintance has lost one of Rune’s beautifully crafted kites to a powerful gust of wind, Virgil ponders that special gift from his friend: “I loved that kite...we were old friends. I had soared and laughed with that kite. It got me out on the perimeter…Thinking it over; I became a bit less angry and more proud of the kite itself; it had refused to be flown by Leer one moment longer. It broke the line and caught the next gust out of town. A perilous move, choosing to throw yourself at the future, even if it means one day coming down in the sea.”



Of course, this last thought is what Virgil had been wrestling with since his accident. Who did he want to be in his older life? Did he want to continue as the hometown cinema owner and part-time city clerk, or were there still adventures and dreams to be had? Could his brush with death give him a new perspective and a new lease on life? Can we perilously throw ourselves at the future, not knowing if we will crash into the unknown sea ahead? Virgil Wander must choose.