Tony Hillerman (1925–2008)

He was so lonely. I think it must be bad to be a Navajo if being lonely bothers you. [168]

Two young teens are missing, one Zuñi and the other Navajo, with strong suspicions that the Zuñi boy was murdered and the Navajo knows how if not by whom. Yet Shalako ceremonies at Zuñi Village will be held in just a few days, when crowds will make investigation difficult and hiding clues easy. Lieutenant Leaphorn makes the rounds of the few places the Navajo boy is known to visit: his family hogan show more and its troubled past; a nearby archaeology dig site; a Franciscan Mission; a hippy commune. Everyone remembers the boy as a "little crazy" but claims not to know where he's gone.

The FBI lead their own investigation and typically, insist on supervising all other law enforcement on the scene. Their approach suggests the missing boys are not a particular motivation, however.

He was finding no order in his thoughts, none of that mild and abstract pleasure which the precise application of logic always brought to him. Instead there was only the discordant clash of improbable against unlikely, effect without cause, action without motive, patternless chaos. Leaphorn's orderly mind found this painful. [74-5]

In this story and the novel before it, Hillerman uses supernatural events as a blind for natural crime. In each case, the perpetrator intended for others to see a mythological interpretation for their behaviour. It will be curious to see if future stories mix it up a bit: criminals not intentionally mimicking supernatural activity, the mythology element overlapping with but not directly connected to the crime, and so forth. And: will there be any scenarios in which the supernatural element is left open to the reader, because irrelevant to the specific solution?

[A]nthropologists have paid scant attention to one of the most basic dimensions of human experience – that close companion of heart and mind, often subdued yet potentially overwhelming, that is known as sense of place. [106]
-- Keith Basso, Wisdom Sits In Places

Hillerman's careful inclusion of landscape references is a key means for acquainting the reader with the lived aspect of Dinetah. Scenes typically include prevailing weather: not merely for scene setting, though it's effective in that way. Immediate conditions are highly relevant to what is happening and what is possible, as evidenced in this story with imminent winter on the high desert and the threat even to seasoned Najavo (never mind a 14-year-old boy alone without food or shelter). In The Blessing Way, territory and climate were relevant both for Leaphorn's immediate need to locate someone hiding in the vast tracts of Dinetah, but also for understanding the ways different people (from different cultures) were likely to see and move through that landscape: other Najavo, military contractors, other indigenous people, city dwellers travelling interstates through reservation lands.

Perhaps even more insightful into the Navajo Way is the land's direct link to Diné stories and values. Places people pass in their daily rounds are the very same places that are featured in their myths and cultural stories. Hillerman regularly notes when events take place near or at these locations, allowing the attentive reader to wonder about the relevance of placenames like Halona or Corn Mountain or Mount Taylor. What is more, these places are shared by other cultures (Hopi, Zuñi, Apache), everyone living among them with slightly different emphases and understanding, and of course, different names. Perhaps similar to Muslim, Christian, and Jewish people living alongside one another in the Middle East, a parallel blend of historical and contemporary.

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This second novel is the first to follow Leaphorn as primary force behind the investigation. While other law enforcement are involved in significant aspects of the larger story bearing on the initial case, Leaphorn is alone in focusing on finding George Bowlegs, the missing Navajo teen. The first novel, by contrast, gave an Anglo anthropologist as much of the drive behind the investigation as it gave Leaphorn. The next significant change won't be for another few novels: when Hillerman introduces the character of Jim Chee.

Again not all Navajo are portrayed as the good guys, here, nor was the primary criminal a Navajo or Zuñi but someone off-reservation. That could become a tiresome scenario if it were to become formulaic. show less

Those looking for a great mystery series who have yet to discover Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee are in for a treat with Skinwalkers. Tony Hillerman created an entire genre with these novels. Though they've been copied, no one has ever quite blended Native American beliefs and traditions, with modern day mystery in the same entertaining way at which Hillerman was so skilled.

Skinwalkers is one of Hillerman's finest pairings of young Navajo Tribal Police Officer, Jim Chee, and the legendary Lt. Joe show more Leaphorn. This one begins when a shotgun blast into Jim Chee's trailer has both Chee and Leaphorn trying to figure out how the attempt on Chee's life ties together with two murders in the sprawling Indian territory over which they have jurisdiction.

The seasoned Leaphorn begins to have respect for young Chee as they work on different ends to solve this mystery. Leaphorn has his own personal problems to deal with as well in this entry; his beloved wife may have the onset of Alzheimer's disease. It is a distraction he can't afford once the danger begins escalating.

Sprinkled throughout this complex and entertaining mystery novel are insights into the Navajo people, from the way they speak, to their customs and broad family ties. But the thread that may tie everything together is something the older Leaphorn despises, and the younger Chee embraces. That aspect of the investigation is the complex mythology of Navajo witchcraft. You see, the killings may involve something very ancient in the Navajo culture, called a Skinwalker.

This is simply a great read, full of description of the Four Corners landscape, which is interwoven with the traditions of the Navajo. The story itself begins at a languid pace, but gradually takes on urgency as the body count starts to rise. The good police work of Leaphorn and Chee may not be enough to save either of them this time out.

Chee's growing recognition among his people as a Hataalli (Medicine Man) who can perform the Blessing Way will play an integral part in this excellent entry in the Leaphorn/Chee canon. Widely regarded by fans of the series and critics alike as one of the best entries in the series, Skinwalkers is like an orange soda on a hot day in the New Mexico desert; it's incredibly refreshing, and really hits the spot. show less

For readers curious about Hillerman's novels, "Chee's Witch" would serve as good a litmus test as any.

An interlude featuring Chee's day during a typically dry summer on the Navajo Reservation, chasing down gossip threatening to turn into something worse. While Chee drives and reflects on what he's learned, Hillerman weaves in Navajo lore regarding skinwalkers and corpse powder, along with series preoccupations such as Chee's rational analysis alongside culturally-informed observation, show more bilagáana naivete mixed with arrogance, and appreciative sketches of the high desert.

Presented as a vignette, the story offers a full character sketch of Chee and ends with a visit to an FBI agent, each sharing with the other an outline of their respective cases. The conversation paints in miniature their contrasting approaches to detective work, the different way each fits into their respective world. Both cases are resolved within the story's handful of pages, essentially recapitulating the overall experience of each of the few books in the Chee-Leaphorn series I've already read. Hillerman doesn't spell out the solution for the reader, effectively placing us in the position of the FBI agent (albeit with a deal more insight from Chee's internal monologue).

Chee understands more than he lets on, and if the FBI agent is as smart as Chee thinks he is, he'll eventually work it out for himself. Chee doesn't wait around to see it.

Leaphorn rates neither an appearance nor a mention. That and Chee's stated rank of Corporal are perhaps the chief clues to where this fits in the series timeline, though I note it's published the same year as A Thief Of Time (1988). Its appearance in the Southwest Airlines in-flight magazine Spirit was a reprint (1992). show less

by Wombat the Bookworm

I don't envy anyone tasked with assembling a book like this. You'd want to be original, but you couldn't skip the best things. You'd need to hit many of the major figures while not ignoring minor gems. You'd want to hit every flavor and node.

Hillerman and Penzler did a fine job, selecting many moving and startling stories for the collection. Several made me laugh, some made me shiver, some stayed with me for days. At the same time, some seem out of place for tone, show more others for content. Rather than discuss every story (there are 46, after all), I'll list my five favorite and the five most out of place.

Let's start with the out-of-place ones:

- "The Comforts of Home" - Flannery O'Connor is a stark story, but isn't strictly a mystery, nor is it pleasant
- "Do with Me What You Will" by Joyce Carol Oates feels too ham-handed-- a story about something instead of being a story that makes you think about something
- "First Offense" by Evan Hunter has the same problem -- it's too "on the nose"
- "An Error in Chemistry" by William Faulkner - tries to be a clever mystery but falls flat. It's also written in a confusing way, revealing details in the wrong order.
- "Paul's Case" by Willa Cather feels like a rambling story that isn't really a mystery at all.

The five best stories. I'd like to be clear -- there are many great stories in this collection. I'd have no trouble assembling a list of 10 instead of five. But five will do:

- "The Dark Snow" by Brendan DuBois seethes with the daily torments of modern life, and challenges the reader to rethink easy dichotomies of good and evil.
- "The Terrapin" by Patricia Highsmith is perhaps the most horrifying story of the book, followed in a close second by Harlan Ellison's "The Whimper of Whipped Dogs."
- "The Catbird Seat" by James Thurber still holds as one of my favorite stories ever. A tale of petty bureaucracy and orderliness.
- "A Jury of her Peers" by Susan Glaspell brings the early 20th century feminism into bright relief, and works wonderfully.
- "The Moment of Decision" by Stanley Ellin prods our conscience, asking how we'd act if a harrowing moment presented itself.

Overall, a very good read. The anthology takes a pretty broad view of what a "mystery" is, but it can be forgiving since this broad definition yielded so many gems. show less