I make no apologies whatsoever for being a die hard Walt Longmire fan. Any book that Craig Johnson writes about Longmire, is a hit with me. The current read being no exception.
I enjoy Johnson’s ability to make you feel the freezing wind, snowdrifts, and general winteriness of the high plains of Wyoming. In Johnson’s Longmire stories, the weather is as much as character in the unfolding tale, as are the actual people and circumstances.
Johnson writes with a dry humour, aided by a deft turn of phrase. His Western stories are bang up to date with all the trappings of modern life: cellphones, TVs, big SUVs, casinos, property developers, marijuana farms – the whole nine yards buried under two feet of snow and zero visibility most of the time.
Walt Longmire doggedly ploughs through the snowdrifts, despite injuries that would cause a lesser man to take two week’s sick-leave, he just keeps on doing his job. Oh that we had more Walt Longmires in this world, and more particularly, in South Africa where I live.
Another happy feature of Johnson’s Longmire novels is that his characters are well-rounded, their personal quirks deftly conveyed in the odd phrase here and there, the throwaway line of dialogue that speaks volumes. Longmire, for instance, buys a lady a house, as a Valentine’s Day gift – she has no idea that he’s done so, but it affords him quiet satisfaction. Beneath that laconic exterior, lurks a tender heart.
I have one last novel tucked away in my TBR pile, a treat in store. I’m keeping it for the time when I need a really good, engrossing, entertaining read. I know I won ‘t be disappointed.