Lightning Strike by William Kent Krueger

Is it the rolling of thunder that scares you?
Is it the crashing of clouds that hold fear?
But all I know as I sit in a corner alone
It takes me back to my childhood again

—-from Lightning Strikes Twice by Iron Maiden

William Kent Krueger is the gentlest of writers. Author of twenty-one novels, including Amazing Grace and This Tender Land, he has written a prequel to his Cork O’Connor mystery series published by Simon & Schuster from 1998 to the present. Titled Lightning Strike, it goes back into Cork’s childhood and reveals why he takes the difficult job of Tamarack County Sheriff; a job which includes the responsibility for law enforcement of the Iron Lake Band of Ojibwe in Minnesota.

As in all the novels in the Cork O’Connor series, Lightning Strike pays homage to the author’s adopted home of Minnesota and to the Anishinaabe Ojibwe people who have lived there for many years. His detailed narrative incorporates the beautiful yet harsh natural setting as well as the history and culture of the Indigenous people who live there. Conflict, the ingredient of all great fiction drives this narrative: conflict in the weather, the rugged landscape, and in the cultures that are trying to live together in that area. I offer the selections below as examples.

It was late July, hot and humid. In the North Country of Minnesota, everything under the blaze of the sun sweltered. The afternoon was a miserable biting of blackflies and to keep from being eaten alive, the two boys had done their best to maintain a brisk pace. They were hiking an abandoned logging road through the Superior National Forest, at the edge of what was then officially known as the Quetico-Superior Wilderness though most folks simply called it the Boundary Waters. This was one of the ten milers required for their hiking merit badge, their destination a place known as Lightning Strike….

Lightning Strike sat in a clearing in the middle of a great strand of old-growth white pines and mixed hardwoods on the shoreline of Iron Lake. Cork had been there many times, usually in the company of Billy Downwind, a friend from the rez, and Billy’s uncle, Big John Manydeeds. Because of his deep knowledge of the great Northwoods and the skills it took to survive there, Big John was a man Cork respected and admired. But the first time Cork visited Lightning Strike, he’d been only six years old and in the company of his grandmother Dilsey. From the reservation, it was a three-mile hike, and though Cork’s legs were small, they’d carried him to Lightning Strike and back easily. The whole way, Grandma Dilsey had pointed out plants and trees and the signs of animals, telling him the Ojibwe names for these things. She was true-blood Iron Lake Anishinaabe, and one of only a handful of elders left who spoke the language fluently….

In the center of the clearing stood the burned remains of a large log construction. The walls had long ago collapsed and only a stone hearth and chimney remained intact. The clearing was filled with rattlesnake ferns and club moss and fireweed that bloomed in spiked clusters of brilliant purple blossoms. The boys crossed the meadow and went directly to the burned-down structure….

“This is a sacred place for the Ojibwe, a place of power,” Cork told him. “Grandma Dilsey says no one should have ever logged here. That’s why the spirits caused it to be hit by lightning.” [pp. 7, 8, 10]

Lightning Strike carries a wide array of thematic material. Yes, there is a mystery. It has a Hardy Boys feel to it as best friends Cork, Billy, and Jorge try to solve a murder case at the same time as those in the Ojibwe community and those in law enforcement, including Cork’s father. It is also the story of Cork and his father Liam, a man who also served as sheriff, a man who gave Cork the opportunity to view his work up close and never hid the effect of the pressures of his profession.

The plot of Lightning Strike revolves around a death which the Ojibwe community views in one way while the white community perceives in another. Liam, as sheriff is trying to uncover the truth and is getting pressure from both sides in terms of how he manages the investigation. Because of the mixture of heritage in his marriage, these different perceptions also become a source of conflict within Liam’s family and challenge the positive relationship Liam has with his son Cork. And because Mr. Krueger is such a great writer, they also become a source of conflict for the reader. I found myself questioning my own perceptions as clues were presented. Was I truly seeing both sides or was I reacting according to my own cultural biases?

In the scene below, Liam and his wife Colleen are discussing Liam’s investigation. The Ojibwe community believes he is asking all the wrong questions of all the wrong people while the white community believes he is stalling the investigation when everyone (who is white) knows what really happened. After dinner one night, Colleen reveals her thoughts on the situation.

She paused in her work, her hands deep in the soapy water, and looked at her husband steadily. “Liam, you’re not from here. You’re a wonderful cop and that’s why you’re our sheriff. But there are forces at work in this place that you can’t possibly understand, emotions that run deep and go back to forever. You’re walking a thin line. And …” She took a wet hand from the sink and put it to his cheek.

“And what?”

“There’s a fire here that’s raged for generations and you’re walking right into the middle of it. I’m wondering what will be left of you when you come out on the other side.”

Her wet hand was still held against his face, and drips of water crawled down his cheek with the same feel as tears. [p. 147]

In an interview with Kerri Miller, the author states “Every time I sit down to write a Cork O’Connor novel, I’m painfully aware that I’m a white guy trespassing on a culture not my own.” Because of that, the author checks in with his friends in the Ojibwe community constantly to make sure he portrays them correctly. For a native perspective, Mr. Krueger recommends that we read Louise Erdrich, Anton or David Treuer, or “any of the fine native storytellers that are publishing these days.” David Weiden’s Winter Counts is a mystery he highly recommends. Mr. Weiden is a Sicangu Lakota from South Dakota.

In the New York Times Book Review for Aug. 22, 2021, Mr. Krueger states “I think a case can be made that there’s a Midwest voice in literature. It’s spare but eloquent and rises significantly out of an understanding of our spiritual relationship with the land here in the Heartland. Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead is a perfect example.” For me, a distinctive trait of both Marilynne Robinson and Kent Krueger is that despite examining controversial topics, their novels possess a lack of cynicism and an absence of convoluted narratives. There are no in-jokes, no new complex literary form that has become “the thing” among recent MFA graduates.

Lightning Strike is a straight-forward, compassionate novel with no tricks up its sleeve. After reading it, I plan to complete the entire Cork O’Connor series. I wish a similar experience for you!

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