The Signal
The adventures of a cowboy and his ex-wife on a fishing trip gone very wrong.
I once spent a week at Girl Scout camp in the middle of a Florida summer. I came back with 53 mosquito bites (yes, I counted) and a god鈥檚 eye that we made in arts and crafts. This is by way of saying that I don鈥檛 think I鈥檓 the target audience for Ron Carlson鈥檚 new novel about a fishing trip gone very wrong, The Signal.
Of course, I鈥檝e never worked on a road crew (all you motorists can thank me later), and I absolutely loved Carlson鈥檚 previous novel, 鈥淔ive Skies.鈥�
Carlson excels at articulating the inner life of men who don鈥檛 talk a whole lot, and his love of the short-story format means that he鈥檚 not inclined to use 20 words where one will do just fine. Mack, a cowboy whose 375-acre ranch is mired in debt, and Vonnie, his ex-wife, are meeting in September for one last fishing trip. Mack just got out of jail for reasons we鈥檒l learn about later, and Vonnie is living with a lawyer in Jackson Hole, so they鈥檝e technically already gone their separate ways.
But Mack needs what a metrosexual would term 鈥渃losure,鈥� and Vonnie still has enough residual fondness left in her to give it to him. 鈥淢ack,鈥� she says, when he expresses astonishment that she arrived at the trail head, 鈥淚t鈥檚 been a hideous year and you hideous in it, but it鈥檚 my word.鈥�
Over a week, their hearts and nerves abrade as the two go through the motions of an annual ritual during which they first fell in love. They camp and fish and Mack remembers earlier trips with his late father. Those conversations are the most poignant of the novel, and theirsa relationship well worth mourning. Ever since his dad died while Mack was still in college, he鈥檚 been scrambling and losing ground. 鈥淗e鈥檇 had a headache or so it seemed for five years, always scraping by, eking out, scratching, and the disappointment yawned and wore at him, something he never honored by calling it a name.鈥�
When he isn鈥檛 making coffee or cooking trout stuffed with lemon wedges, Mack also keeps checking his BlackBerry. Unbeknownst to the already suspicious Vonnie (who could probably clean up modeling for REI), her 鈥渞eformed鈥� ex has taken on one last job for a dodgy character who claims to work for the government. Mack鈥檚 supposed to find 鈥渟omething鈥� that鈥檚 been lost in the woods. (That鈥檚 right about when I鈥檇 start asking if it鈥檚 bigger than a breadbox, but Mack鈥檚 gotten used to jobs where you just don鈥檛 really want to know.)
Then Vonnie asks what that noise is, and a reader suddenly realizes that Mack has led them both into a world of trouble. This was where I started to lose my footing with the book. Not to give the particulars away, but the plot takes a twist that鈥檚 a staple in Hollywood, where the main character, who has been a first-class jerk by his own admission, can say, 鈥淵eah, but at least I鈥檓 not as big of a monster as those guys.鈥� As long as you鈥檙e aiming high, buddy.
In compensation, 鈥淭he Signal鈥� offers Carlson鈥檚 sure-handed, stripped-down prose (I loved his description of fishing flies as 鈥渓ike a fabulous meeting of jewelry and semiconductors鈥�); a deep love of nature; and wonderfully laconic lines such as 鈥淎 horse on a dude ranch eats a lot of apples.鈥� And unlike a lot of manly-men writers (I鈥檓 talking to you, Hemingway), Carlson seems to have a genuine appreciation of women.
Of course, when, like Vonnie, she can hike all day, land a two-foot trout, and remembers to bring bear claws, what鈥檚 not to appreciate?
Yvonne Zipp regularly reviews fiction for the Monitor.