The Ploughmen

A stark story written beautifully.

As other reviewers have pointed out, the author does use “million-dollar words,” but I think the elevation of the language is as much a part of the plot as the actual story - here are two men on the harshest landscape they will ever experience, mentally and physically, fighting elements set against them both in different ways, and to tell the story while also using this dissociative language helps the reader feel that disconnect in both characters that drives each his separate way.

Kim Zupan's first novel, THE PLOUGHMEN, is one of those fiction debuts that just seems to appear suddenly out of nowhere and then proceeds to quietly blow you away. It's one of those "Holy-crap-this-guy-can-write!" kinda books.

I'm not even sure how to adequately describe Zupan's book. On the surface it's about two men as unalike as two men can be: Valentine Millimaki, a young deputy sheriff and John Gload, an aging cold-blooded killer. And yet there are similarities. Both lost parents at a young age, both came from poor farming backgrounds (hence the title). Beyond these things, however, they have lived vastly different lives. Val is a thinker of deep thoughts, a man of conscience. Gload is an opportunistic, passionless career murderer show more who lives quietly in a neglected apple orchard on a dead-end road outside Great Falls. Val is the night jailer, tasked with watching Gload as he awaits trial. He is also (with his dog, Tom) the sheriff's department's expert tracker of missing persons, another unhappy duty, as few are ever found alive. The odd hours and morbid consequences of these duties combine to ruin his marriage. Val's boss, the sheriff, sees it happening and, in trying to offer counsel, gives a pretty concise description of the difficulties of marriage, particularly for a police officer -

"The department is a testing ground for marital Darwinism, Val. This is what we do, one might say what we love to do, but it is frequently opposed to, or at least makes difficult the husbanding of marriage ... Maybe it's just luck. Or chance, whatever you choose to call it. I've seen it a hundred times. Who you marry just turns out to be some other person after a while. Grows up into somebody else. Not better or worse. Just different."

Besides this overworked wise sheriff, Zupan creates other less likeable secondary characters: deputies Dobek and Wexler. The latter, a cocky, preening ambitious little prick, will bring to mind that sleazy little assistant jailer from THE GREEN MILE.

And there are the women too: Val's mother, his wife, and even Gload's "wife," all victims, finally, of various kinds of failure, societal roles, isolation and loneliness.

There is a recurring motif of apples here. Val's knowledge of and fondness for apples, and the ruined orchard that surrounds Gload's house, an orchard containing bones and secrets. One thinks of Eden and the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the loss of paradise. The end of innocence.

Gload is a piece of work: huge, brutal,conscienceless, he has killed multiple times over a period of nearly sixty years. And he is thorough in covering his tracks and in rendering his victims unidentifiable through methodical mutilation. There is a passage here where Gload asks Val the meaning of a word used to describe him during his trial: turpitude. Val looks it up for him and tells him, "depravity, baseness." Perhaps. And yet there is something in the man Gload that fascinates and compels. Val feels it, and so did I. And therein lies the magic of this book. Zupan is a master of language, of characterization and description.

Other books which came to mind as I read this one were John Smolens' suspenseful COLD, about another lawman (also a Finn, Del Maki) pursuing an escaped prisoner across the unforgiving winter landscape of Michigan's Upper Peninsula; and Amanda Coplin's beautifully crafted western novel, THE ORCHARDIST.

THE PLOUGHMEN is simply one teriffic novel. Definitely one of those "holy crap" discoveries that booklovers are always on the lookout for. I will pester all my reader friends about this book. My highest recommendation. show less

As luck would have it I read this book on a trip to western Montana, including Missoula. The novel is set around Missoula, and the landscape becomes almost a character in its own right. This novel is amazing, tracking the interaction between a sheriff and killer. The murderer especially crackles off the page, the most haunting character I've read since Anton Chigurh in McCarthy's _No Country for Old Men_.

The sheriff's introspection as the relationship between the two men develops is especially well done. I couldn't stop reading, finishing after midnight, regretting it all the while as the pages remaining dwindled. I didn't want this book to end.

I made a mistake. When I first received this book, I thought it was a Western based on the premise originally put forth by Elmore Leonard's "3:10 to Yuma" - a peculiar, dynamic relationship between a prisoner and the deputy assigned to guard him. I gave myself four days to read, think about and review this book, not realizing that I had badly misjudged the book from the start. The 256 pages of the novel need to be savored carefully over time, and any inclination to project ideas of black- and white-hatted cowboys into the story needs to be put aside.

The Ploughmen is a work of literary-fiction set in Montana that requires due diligence and undistracted contemplation. Yes, it does feature "a peculiar, dynamic relationship between a show more prisoner and the deputy assigned to guard him;" but the pages are filled with descriptive prose, a slow rhythmic pace punctuated infrequently by stark, brutal acts, and characters of concretized mindsets. Much of the book is devoted to portraying the landscape: clouds (cirrus clouds, cumulus clouds, gravid clouds, immane clouds...) and birds. The landscape in its graphic harshness wields its presence in the narrative like a weapon unto itself. The careful tempering of the story into measured passages forces the reader to slow down and take in the seemingly-portentous lines and their possible implications. It is against this landscape that the characters find themselves trapped as players upon a stage from which there is no exit. Val Millimaki is the deputy who cannot adapt to change. He holes himself up in his cabin with his memories as his wife escapes and his marriage crumbles. Gload, on the other hand, is the older "plough man" who realizes that nothing really changes once you have the perspective born of life experience. Both men steadfastly hold on to their respective core philosophies of idealism and nihilism at great personal cost, and by adhering to their personal convictions, ultimately both reap what they have sown.

Some of the language is archaic which may speak of a certain intellectual pretentiousness on the part of the author; but the the overall sense of craftsmanship, of planing and shaping the story to reveal the grain and beauty of both the the land and the men, is undeniable. show less

This book is as dark as they come, but it is so beautifully and lyrically written, that at times you forget the back story as you read. The book is about an old convict by the name of John Gload. When the book opens, Gload is 77 years old. He has just been taken into custody for robbery and the death and dismemberment of a young man. Gload is in a holding prison awaiting his trial. Valentine Millimaki is a young policeman who has drawn the short straw and has been tasked by his boss the sheriff to sit with Gload to see if he can get the old man to reveal some of the burial places for the people that he has killed. The law enforcement in this small town in Montana know that there are probably many bodies buried out somewhere in the show more Montana countryside. The plot progresses through nighttime conversations between Gload and young Valentine. In almost a dreamlike, fugue state we learn of the past life of this formidable old man. Valentine finds himself being drawn into Gload's dark world, and his private and personal life suffer as a result of his late night chats. Gload sits in his cell smoking endless cigarettes and Valentine sits outside the cell door while they talk. A very bizarre intimacy develops between these two men. Zupan is an incredible storyteller, and his character building skills are very well developed. Not at any time while reading this haunting book, did I question any of his plot connections or his storyline timetable. The novel s so lyrically and masterfully written that when violence does erupt in the story, it is shocking and extremely unnerving. Watching the inexplicable bond that develops between this old psychopathic killer and the young deputy clearly portrays the difference between good and evil. And through it all Zupan does not neglect his portrayal of the Montana countryside. The beauty of the landscape makes the story itself even more surprising. This is a first novel that left me anxiously waiting for the next book that Zupan will write. show less

A young deputy's and an old killer's story run in parallel in this Montana set modern western. The deputy, Valentine Millimaki, is committed to his job and searching for missing people in the wilderness. He and his German Shepard have been on a rather depressing streak with most of the searches ending up in recovery rather than rescue. His relationship with his wife is also in a downward spiral. He is befriended by a recently arrested multiple killer, John Gload and is tasked with escorting him to trial and night shifts at the jail babysitting the prisoners. The two spend many nights talking through the prison bars and both struggle with insomnia. The two are polar opposites -- good and very evil, yet they form an awkward relationship. show more Chapters drift back and forth from the past to the present, and more detail is presented on each character. What would seem to be a very dark novel in a harsh climate is redeemed by the author's language. Zupan uses his words to bring light on an otherwise dark story. Even Gload, who would be dismissed as unworthy of any consideration as a human being may not be likable, but he becomes understandable. An excellent book where noir meets literature. show less

Set mostly in the beautiful Big Sky country of Montana in 2004, the two plowmen in the tile of this book are Val Millimaki and John Gload. Val is a young deputy sheriff, and John is a remorseless 77-year-old mass murderer. John is currently being housed in the Copper County jail while his trial is taking place. Val is assigned the graveyard shift responsible for taking care of and guarding the jail’s odd assortment of temporary prisoners.

Most of the inmates sleep during Val’s shift, but John Gload has persistent insomnia. He talks, and Val—being the kind and respectful person he is—listens. Before long, the two men discover that they have something singularly significant in common: as teenagers in the sunshine of their show more innocence, above all else, they enjoyed the farm task of plowing their fathers’ fields. They reveled in the solitary freedom, enormous power, and Zen-like monotony of plowing.

Val and John also share another very important thing in common: each lost a beloved parent while still a child…and for each that event market the end of their childhoods and the end of anything that either could call a normal life.

But that’s where the similarities end. In temperament and personality, Val and John are complete opposites. John is a psychopath born without the ability to feel empathy, while Val is an empath, feeling empathy for everything and everyone on the planet.

As the nightly conversations between Val and John continue, Val’s boss encourages him to do all he can to befriend the murderer and manipulate him into revealing something important that could help them with his conviction. But what kind of friendship is possible between these two?

And then there are the womenfolk in each man’s life: John’s common-law wife, Francie, and Val’s young wife, Glenda. How do these women relate to the men in their lives? How do these men treat their women? Why does Glenda accuse Val—a man of abundant sensitivity and empathy—of “emotional absence” insofar as their marriage is concerned?

Val had so much empathy and understanding that in thinking about John and all the murders he’s committed, Val ponders whether John “was somehow exempt from responsibility,” perhaps he “could no more be blamed than a child born without feet could be blamed for his inability to run.” But Val is also wisely wary of the small kindnesses that John bestows on him. Val realizes that “like the webbed and blunted limbs of thalidomide children”…John’s kindnesses made him “more pitiable for the reminder of what” he might have “been like to be whole.” Val knows that “you can’t be friends with somebody who you think might cut your throat if the opportunity arose.”

This is a book that must be read very carefully and closely. Often only one word can mean the difference between understanding a key passage and failing to catch what is happening. Kim Zupan is a gifted wordsmith. Every word on every page counts. The lion’s share of the pleasure I derived from this book was enjoying Zupan’s literary skill.

Other reviewers have remarked that the author reminded them of Marilyn Robinson (“Housekeeping”) and Cormac McCarthy (“The Road”). I agree. In addition, Zupan reminded me of other great Western literary giants like Ivan Doig (“The Bartender’s Tale”) and Rick Bass (“All the Land to Hold Us”). While Zupan can certainly be measured in this company, in my opinion, he is not yet equal with them, but he is definitely close.

When you finish this book, you’ll be asking yourself many questions about the nature of friendship and whether or not Val and John were truly friends? In fact, you’ll keep asking yourself: what is friendship? Yes, that is an interesting question to ponder…and this is a magnificent book to read.

[Added note: I almost rated this book four rather than five stars. This was because I wanted the author’s to take me inside the minds of his two characters as they thought about their feelings. Then, as soon as I had that thought, I realized that I was biased—yes, biased because I am a woman. One of the fascinating difference between men and women is that men generally reveal feelings through actions, while women reveal them through words. As a woman reading this book, I wanted more words about feelings. But that would not have been true to these two main characters. They were both men—men who didn’t think about their feelings, they just acted on them. I went back over the book and realized that the men’s actions spoke volumes about their feelings. In the end, it was me who learned a pretty significant lesson…and for that I am pleased.] show less