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Wendell Berry called this a swift, assured novel. He also said he was intimidated by Stegner. At that point, Berry hadn't published his first novel yet. This was Stegner's first. Damn fine way to start.

The kind of introduction that makes you scratch your head. A freshman mile runner winning state kind of introduction. Except that freshman is a late-20s author who hasn't published much yet. You're doing more than scratching your head.

Stegner's nickname is "The Dean of Western Writers." You don't get that without work. It's a Tombstone-level nickname. Doc Holliday wishes he could be a dean. Most people don't know Cormac McCarthy's real name is Charlie. That makes McCarthy's nickname Cormac. Still not as smooth as Dean.

You don't get a fellowship at Stanford that housed both Larry McMurtry and Thom Gunn without writing chops. Look up a picture of Wally. You'll see that ocean of white hair. Quickly get swept in the tide of deep thought behind those glasses. Real glasses, the literary kind. Windows into reality.

Reading Stegner is to come up to those windows, admire the glass, then find one crack. Tap on it with your forefinger. Next thing you know, you're gone. Different world. Where you feel more than you've ever felt before. Where you know more than you've ever known before.