THE GUIDE (2021)
By Peter Heller
Alfred A. Knopf, 257 pages.
★★★
Let’s talk really good mediocre book. Peter Heller’s The Guide is a sequel to the more polished The River (2020), an echo of the British film Never Let Me Go (2020), and selective culling from recent news stories, such as that of Richard Cooke, the world-class jerk who killed a tame lion inside a Zimbabwean game reserve. It has other issues as well, but Heller gets away with things that would raise alarms were they offerings from writers of lesser skill.
Heller fans have met Jack before. He and his best college buddy Wynn went on a tragic canoe trip in northern Canada in The River. He blames himself for Wynn’s death, as well as that of his mother, whose horse slipped off a mountain trail. In short, Jack suffers from a double dose of PTSD. His father and uncle assure Jack he is blameless, but the sprawling Colorado ranch feels so claustrophobic that he needs to get away and clear his head, a search that lands him at Kingfisher Lodge, a retreat for the elite on on Colorado’s Taylor River near Gunnison National Forest. Kingfisher needs a “guide,” though not of the backpacking sort. The Taylor is famed for trout fishing, and Jack’s job is to be a glorified babysitter for wealthy folks coming to angle in the Billionaire’s Mile, a section of well-stocked waters.
Day One is just what the doctor ordered: solitude, jaw-dropping beauty, a small cabin, and Zen-like fishing. Jack is leery of Kurt Jensen, who manages Kingfisher and has niggling little rules and threatens to dismiss those who can’t follow them, but Jack is here to heal not rebel. One command gets his attention: stay clear of the sign warning “Don’t Get Shot,” the explanation being that a cranky neighbor named Kreutzer doesn’t tolerate trespassers. But Jack enjoys an amazing dinner, which compensates for an odd meeting with the laconic Cody, another guide.
On Day Two, he meets the person he will guide, Alison K*, her surname suppressed because celebrities coming to Kingfisher want to escape the fame game. Good luck with that when you’re dropped off by the head of your security detail. They’re in the Rockies, but it only takes a New York minute to determine that she is a famed country singer. Luckily for Jack, she’s also down-to-earth. Her fly-fishing technique requires fine-tuning, but Alison’s a natural, loves the outdoors, and relishes both Jack’s company and deep silences.
Too good to be true? Duh! Jack and Alison notice that none of the other guests are fishing and Cody doesn’t do any guiding. Nor does it help when Alison and Jack must duck for cover when she goes beyond the sign when landing a large trout. Jack is dressed down for that when they return to the lodge, but how does Kurt even know about it when Jack, Alison, and whoever shot at them were the only ones on the river? They observe that some of the guests seem spacey, perhaps ill. Jack also keeps getting warnings to play everything by the book, as the autocratic Jensen is really following the orders imposed by Kingfisher’s owner, Mr. Den. Only housekeeper Ana seems genuine around Jack. When she discovers he speaks Spanish, she whispers four numbers to him. Why would she whisper inside his cabin? Why was he hired in midseason? What happened to his predecessor?
Jack might be a Colorado rancher’s son, but he’s also a Dartmouth grad and there are simply too many things that feel wrong. A foray into the mountains affords an overview of Kingfisher and adjoining properties. If Kreutzer is a rival, why are the chain-link fences surrounding Kingfisher, Kreutzer’s, and another lodge interconnected? Why do the barbs face inward rather than toward the river? More to the point, why does Jack see a person in a hospital gown running from Kreutzer’s and witness Cody, Jensen, commandos, and the local law enforcement on the grounds? Alison has similar questions, and the two begin to spend personal time with each other, another rule violation. In a drive to Crested Butte for dinner and Wi-Fi connectivity, Alison learns a distressing fact about Mr. Den.
At this juncture, the cowboy and the songstress tale mutates into a Covid-era thriller. (Covid factors into the plot, but in an unusual way.) Frankly, the final third of the book stretches credulity, especially when Jack transforms into James Bond-as-cowboy. The novel’s denouement is abrupt and contrived and, in my view, Heller adds an unnecessary subplot about what’s happening at Kreutzer’s.
For all of that, The Guide is a chilling page turner that is so hard to toss aside that I read it in just two sittings. Heller ropes us in through vividly sketched characters–not just Jack and Alison, but also minor ones such Ana; Shay, who oversees food services; and guests such as the Sir William Barron and Teiji and Yumi Takagi. Moreover, Heller’s love of wilderness comes through on every page and he makes you feel nature’s majesty–right down to a simple description of nighttime clouds parting to reveal skies “freckled” with stars. I don’t fish, but Heller’s river sequences are like liquid meditation. The Guide is not a patch on The River and it’s certainly not The Dog Stars, Heller’s stunning debut, but it will reel you in.
Rob Weir
*I immediately wondered if this character was a veiled Alison Krauss reference, but neither Krauss’ age nor profile fit.
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