Perhaps you remember my post about a man squirting weedkiller on unwanted plants. He explained that if they weren’t eradicated, they would take over. I’m happy to report they have done exactly that—only a few weeks after their apparent demise. Welcome back! 
I wish I could say that Jemez Spring was as good as the rest of the series, but it’s not. I had to finish it because it wraps up the Sonny Baca series, but it doesn’t do the story cycle justice. Even Sonny himself is not as strong a character. He becomes something between a caricature and an archetype. I almost stopped reading early on, when Sonny—a private investigator—and a police detective are in the presence of the murder victim who died in a hot spring bath at Jemez Springs, and they derisively discuss the size of the dead man’s penis. At that point, I no longer liked Sonny. I thought, why is this episode here?
His girlfriend, Rita, was always simply an archetypal female ideal with no depth. None of the women in this book have any dimensionality except Naomi, the Jemez Pueblo potter. She has a personality. She’s original. I love it when she gets in Sonny’s truck and says, “You got spirits in this truck?” (One of the strongest characters is the ghost of Sonny’s late neighbor don Eliseo, riding in Sonny’s truck and giving him advice.) But like other women in the book, Naomi is an object of desire. The power players are all men, unless I slept through a scene that breaks that pattern
Between each important event, there are often three pages of digression on New Mexico politics, history, culture, and food, beautiful descriptions of the land, excessive backstory, discussions of whether or not dogs dream, and reflections on mythology. These side trips are masterful word craft and some could make good essays collected outside of a novel, but keeping track of the plot took patience.
The final confrontation between Sonny and Raven is in an intriguing setting and has some mystical moments, but it’s also full of philosophical discussion at a point when it deflates the tension instead of escalating it.
The outcome of the ongoing threat with the bomb made me feel as if the author had written himself into a corner and couldn’t get out of it, so he wrote it away into a trick. That’s almost as bad as “it was all a dream.” I found flashes of delight in certain settings, good lines, and the few good characters, like the Green Indians, but I’m still disappointed in this work by an author whose books I normally love.
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