On a Clear Day I Can Read Forever

Late summer 1935. On board a train barreling through the north Florida wilderness, World War I vet Arlen looks into the eyes of his fellow Conservation Corps workers and sees swirling smoke, a sure sign of impending death. But he can only convince his young friend Paul that his premonition is the real thing, and so the two, to the jeers of the others, stay behind at a remote station. The train continues to the Florida Keys – and straight into the path of the infamous Labor Day hurricane that killed thousands.

By the time Arlen and Paul hear the dreadful news, they’ve taken refuge at an isolated boarding house run by the beautiful and secretive Rebecca Cady. But the storm is not the only threat at Cypress House. A powerful  judge and a conniving sheriff are intent on making their stay a short one with the help of a murderous swamp rat family. Neither Arlen nor Paul want to leave Rebecca alone, especially after a traveling salesman is incinerated in his car and Arlen, a coffinmaker’s son, again sees skeletal hands beneath live flesh.

Michael Koryta expertly mixes backwoods Depression-era adventure and betrayal with a tinge of the supernatural in The Cypress House (Little, Brown), which is even better than last year’s So Cold the River. It’s as if Peter Matthiessen’s Mister Watson met Stephen King in the swampy, fetid frontier of corruption and poked a nest of water moccasins. Florida noir. Intense and atmospheric, the novel has the momentum of that doomed train as its characters try to outwit fate. Smoke gets in their eyes.

Open Book: I downloaded a digital advance copy of Michael Koryta’s The Cypress House (Little, Brown) through NetGalley. The digital galleys expire into the ether after a certain period of time.