Once Upon a River

In the same way that water seeks its own level, Margo Crane, the unsinkable teenage protagonist of Bonnie Jo Campbell's masterful new novel Once Upon a River seeks her own way in the world against potentially devastating odds. From the get-go—by the fourth chapter of the book—Margo has been put through more trauma than most people suffer in a lifetime. Among the least of these events is the unannounced departure of her mother, which sets Margo off on a journey to track her down. Campbell writes from deep inside Margo's skin, reporting every urge and hunger, hurt and longing. And she keeps Margo front and center on nearly every page, the cumulative effect of which is compelling rather than exhausting. Drifting in small backwoods areas around Kalamazoo, Michigan (Campbell's home state), Margo comes into contact with an array of unpredictable and largely untrustworthy men. Whether they're impressed or intimidated by her survival skills—Margo is a sure-shot with a rifle, much like her heroine and guiding star, Annie Oakley—or driven by lust, nearly all of them want to control or contain Margo. But Margo is no standard-issue femme fatale, and her lovers and predators are imbued with dimension and character, making them as human as they are hateful. Thrumming with poetic insight, visceral detail, and absolutely believable characters, Once Upon A River is hands down one of the best books of the year.