This was one of my most anticipated novels of the year. It did not disappoint as it is easily in my top five of the year. Stephen Graham Jones is one of those prolific authors who has a number of tasty morsels and full meals out every year. I first read his werewolf novel, Mongrels, last year, and since then, I have been slowly working my way through some of his other works.
The Only Good Indians is a literary slasher of guilt and retribution. It is the story of four Blackeet—Ricky, Lewis, Cass, and Gabe—and the aftermath of an elk hunt gone wrong. It is a tale of a deed done in the dark that follows each man and haunts them, and when you violate tradition and cultural norms, you will pay a price. We, too, pay a price because we care about these men. Jones drags us through life both on and off the Rez leading us to an epic battle the likes of which I have never experienced before. In the end, I was left sweating and gasping for breath. I know that I will never look at an elk or a ceiling fan the same way again.
