The Death of Bernadette Lefthand by Ron Querry (review)

Reviews 167 term for the homosexual men that some, but not all, tribes once accepted as holy figures. This cross-cultural contrast challenges the binary opposition of masculine and feminine, but Gilbert is the least credible major character; his supposed allure is disrupted too often by his abrasiveness. The scenes of Blue’s ostracism, depicted with convincing complexity, are much more effective. As the townspeople begin to question the nature of his care of injured Sam, Blue acknowledges the economic troubles that contribute to the townspeople’s intolerance. Their hostility is also complicated by doubt; for example, two other ranch hands reconsider their rejection of “a good guy to work with and to know”before reaffirming that “he went sour.”Although Blue carries the burden of such intolerance during his personaljourney, he finally arrives by making an emotional commitment without abandoning the western setting he loves. DONALD C.JONES University ofNew Hampshire The Death ofBernadette Left-hand. By Ron Querry. (Santa Fe: Red Crane Books, 1993. 215 pages, $12.95.) Although the focus of this new novel is the senseless murder of the title character, Ron Querry is less concerned with offering a traditional whodunit than with exploring the sometimes bleak, precarious, even hostile life facing too many Native Americans—a life often marked by alcoholism, unemployment, alienation, disillusionment. However, Querry also provides a touching and informative portrait of daily life on reservation lands—ranging from Taos Pueblo to Jicarilla Apache to Navajo—and he juxtaposes the spiritualism of Indian cultures with white values from, primarily, a Native American perspective. Gracie, the sixteen-year-old sister of Bernadette Lefthand, narrates most of the novel, and her sections are convincing and powerful, for they reveal not merely the novel’s action but also a believable, fully developed character. We feel Gracie’s grief, we understand and share her rage, we learn as she learns, and we question as she questions. Comparisons of Querry’s novel to the works of Tony Hillerman are prob­ ably inevitable. Like Hillerman, Querry sets his novel in the Four Corners area, focuses primarily on Native American characters, and, while unquestionably serving up a good mystery, also gives readers a short course on reservation life, intertribal conflicts, religious tenets, witchcraft (a major element in the plot), and so forth. But here the similarities end, and TheDeath ofBernadette Lefthand must be read not for what it may share with Hillerman books but rather to appreciate Querry’s mastery as a storyteller. If TheDeath ofBernadetteLefthand has any weaknesses, they occur when the author replaces Gracie with a second narrator, Starr Stubbs. The employer and 168 WesternAmerican Literature friend ofBernadette, Starr, who “used to be a big time clothes model... in New York City,” is married to Rounder Stubbs, a boozy country singer who lives in comparative splendor in Dulce, New Mexico. Although Starr arguably provides a white person’s perspective in the novel, her character never rings as true, never achieves the complexity, and never piques the imagination as does Gracie’s. This minor criticism notwithstanding, The Death ofBernadette Lefthand is a fine, engaging novel. Querry’s mystery is defdy written, entertaining, packed with information, and deserves to be read. ROBERT HEADLEY Southern State Community College, Ohio Iona Moon. By Melanie Rae Thon. (New York: Poseidon Press, 1993. 315 pages, $ 21.00.) Iona Moon, gutsy protagonist of Melanie Rae Thon’s new novel, resembles no one as much as an updated, Idaho Huckleberry Finn. Moon, despite the limitations of growing up in a family of provincial potato farmers, celebrates both her own life and the lives of two significant male others. She is sensitive, courageous, and independent, nursing her mother dying ofcancer and nurtur­ ing her few cherished friends, making subtle moral choices as she matures. Thon’s prose veers between lyricism and a stark naturalist portrayal of a world of potato fields and petty small town lives. In a fictional world of sexual and spiritual abuse, the narrative avoids the postmodernist nihilist trap, insist­ ing on the possibility that events might signify meaning. As Moon whispers in a dream sequence, “It is the wounded heart that makes us human in the end, my love. ” Only the ending jars...