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Only the Dead

Only the Dead

VIDAR SUNDSTØL
Translated by TIINA NUNNALLY
Copyright Date: 2014
Pages: 152
https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.5749/j.ctt7zw6nk
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  • Book Info
    Only the Dead
    Book Description:

    A Norwegian tourist has been found murdered on the shore of Lake Superior-right where an Ojibwe man may have been killed more than one hundred years earlier. Four months later, the official investigation is supposedly over but still not resolved, and U.S. Forest Service officer Lance Hansen, drawn into the mystery by his grisly discovery of the body, is uncovering clues disturbingly close to home.

    His former father-in-law, Willy Dupree, may hold the key to the century-old murder of Swamper Caribou. And his own brother, Andy, might know more than he's telling-more than he should know-about the recent homicide. The relationship between the brothers takes a dangerous turn as their annual deer hunt becomes a deadly game.

    Steeped in the rich history of Lake Superior's rugged North Shore, this follow-up to the Riverton Prize-winningThe Land of Dreamspursues two tales through a bleak and beautiful landscape haunted by the lives and dreams of its Scandinavian immigrants and Native Americans. Hansen finds himself equally haunted by the complex mysteries that continue to unravel around him.

    eISBN: 978-1-4529-4346-6
    Subjects: Language & Literature

Table of Contents

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  1. Front Matter
    (pp. [i]-[iv])
  2. 1
    (pp. 1-14)

    His cell phone began silently vibrating in his pants pocket. Lance Hansen cautiously took it out and checked the display, but the number was not one he recognized. Just as cautiously he put the phone back. Then he again gripped his rifle with both hands.

    It was sprinkling a bit, making a few rippling rings on the surface of the water. His cell was still vibrating. He wondered who could be calling him. At that moment he saw a buck emerge from the woods across the lake. It paused, its body erect and alert. A drop of water was forming...

  3. 2
    (pp. 15-32)

    March 1892

    Fat fish that I could cook and eat and drink the broth from afterward. It makes me dizzy just thinking about it. But it’s impossible to catch the fish in the lake. First I need to get me a boat. Then I can set out some nets and bring them up full of fish. The water is gurgling underneath, at the edge of the ice. The moon is shining. I’m sitting on the snowshoes that are tied to the back of my knapsack, leaning back against a big black rock that’s capped with snow.

    I saw it from...

  4. 3
    (pp. 33-58)

    Only the rowanberries, hanging in big clusters, shimmered in the gray light. Lance sat in his car, waiting for his brother. Taped to the middle of the steering wheel was a photograph of his seven-year-old son. The radio was on, but turned down too low for him to hear what was being said. A flock of waxwings was eating berries from the rowan trees that stood between the parking lot and the river. It was an annual sight in November.

    He took a heart-shaped Dove chocolate out of his jacket pocket, removed the thin foil wrapper, and placed the candy...

  5. 4
    (pp. 59-90)

    Lance spread out the ground cloth and sat down with his back resting against the rotten tree trunk. Andy sat down next to him. Each of them took out a thermos and poured coffee into a plastic cup. The aroma of coffee slowly mixed with the smell of the damp autumn forest. Both men wrapped their fingers around the cups to warm their hands.

    “Oh well…,” Andy said, sighing.

    “Uh-huh,” said Lance, his voice barely audible.

    Only a few yards from their feet the Cross River ran past, on its way toward the ravines and rapids. This big bend in...

  6. 5
    (pp. 91-122)

    Andy screwed the cap back on and put the milk bottle inside the backpack, which was propped between his feet. He blew on his coffee and cautiously took a sip before setting the cup in the holder between the seats.

    They had driven down to the other parking area, the closest one to Baraga’s Cross. Now they were both sitting in Lance’s Jeep. The temperature was starting to feel more comfortable with the engine idling. They had parked with their backs to the lake. From where they were sitting, they could see along Baraga Cross Road, which led up to...

  7. 6
    (pp. 123-156)

    I don’t even know how long he’s been gone. Or whether time is passing quickly or slowly. I’m sitting on the floor holding his rifle on my lap. Wearing only my shirt, which has started to thaw out a bit, but it still feels like I have a shell of ice around me. Below I’m completely naked. I need to put on the rest of my clothes and get away before he comes back, but my rib hurts so bad when I bend down that I can’t pull on my pants. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going...

  8. Back Matter
    (pp. 157-157)