Dear Neighbors Northers,
I simply couldn’t not blog about this exquisite read, The Ploughmen by Kim Zupan. Probably I’m not doing it justice. See for yourself. Read Ploughmen and see what you think. How will it speak to you?
“Ex nihilo nihil est.” The killer John Gload says he came across those words decades earlier, embroidered on a hotel pillow. Sheriff’s deputy Valentine Millimaki thinks it must be Latin. He is too wrung out from sleeplessness to think anything more.
The Ploughmen heaves up from the earth in cataclysms and cataracts. In between are periods of exquisite quiet. Zupan reveals a bleak, flat Montana of blowing sand and hot, rainless summers; cricket clouds, elusive bats, and circling, hungry gulls. He uses language in a precise, unexaggerated way, without irony or hyperbole.
Ploughmen centers upon two orphaned farm boys, Valentine Millimaki and John Gload. A note written in his mother’s elegant script instructed eight-year-old Millimaki to come to the shed. There, he found his mother swaying cold from the rafters. Gload waited out a snowstorm in a truck cab for his drunken father’s return.
Millimaki marries and has a cabin in the woods. He becomes a sheriff’s deputy. Gload earns his bread killing. He bows before no god and follows no commandment other than his own.
The law catches up to Gload at age seventy-seven. Millimaki is assigned the jail’s graveyard shift. He is instructed to pay special attention to Gload.
Gload isn’t interested in escaping. He’s neared the end of his row and fine with living out his days behind bars. Still, in his own inimitable fashion, he would like to put some things right.
Neither guard nor prisoner is sleeping. Millimaki is haunted by the dead—beginning with his mother and extending out to the hikers, loners, and drifters he tries to rescue but reaches too late. His wife can no longer bear the sorrows dripping from him and walks out.
Gload’s sleeplessness isn’t due to regret for those whose lives he has snuffed out, but for his never-fulfilled boyhood wish of being a ploughman, a dream buried in a long ago snowstorm’s drifts. He has another wish, too, but keeps Millimaki in the dark as to what it is.
The wind, ice, snow, and sun bleach, scar, bend, and disfigure. The punishment men mete out seems almost trivial compared to what nature doles out in the harsh and beautiful land.
Ultimately, Millimaki puts things right for Gload, just as the old man wished.
Ex nihilo nihil est. Nothing is created from nothing. Was this the ultimate take away from Kim Zupan’s Ploughmen?