In the Distance
Hernán Díaz's debut novel is a take on the classic American western novel, though this one features a Swedish emigrant.
The Zammer Review: 5 out of 5 stars.
In the Distance by Hernán Díaz tells the tale of Håkan, a Swedish emigrant who navigates the American West during the 19th century. He arrives just a boy, but by the end of the novel, he is an old man who has become a legend.
Purchased on a whim during a visit to Milkweed Books, I knew I’d be recommending this even before I finished reading it.
If The Odyssey is about a man going on a journey to return home, In the Distance is about a man going on a journey with no destination at all. Håkan’s journey is not the distance on land that he covers (and there is plenty of it), but the distance through time he travels—his growth from boy to man to graybeard, his rise from foreigner to nomad to the stuff of myths.
Initially, Håkan seeks to find his brother, whom he lost on the journey from Sweden to America. He encounters obstacles of all kinds, from not speaking English to performing emergency surgery on his horse. Perhaps the greatest torment he faces is the fear that once reunited, his brother may abhor the monster Håkan had to become in order to survive.
“This is true religion—knowing there is a bond among all living things. Having understood this, there is nothing to mourn, because even though nothing can ever be retained, nothing is ever lost.”
This novel is reminiscent of Frankenstein, Where the Crawdads Sing, and others that explore natural philosophy. Håkan, during his travels, becomes somewhat of a survivalist. In the vastness of the land, the setting mirrors the perspective he gains in his isolation.
Usually, I am queasy about injuries, medical procedures, graphic deaths, etc., but these moments are depicted with such neutrality and matter-of-factness (as we are reading Håkan’s perspective) that I found them fascinating and wondrous. Díaz’s writing and character composition are so strong that he doesn’t rely on any gratuitous shock value to entertain. His prose is immersive, and it was so enjoyable to return to this novel each day and see what Håkan was up to.
“A year and an instant are equivalent in a monotonous life.”
Without spoiling it, the devices employed in Chapter 20 were some of my favorite moments while reading this book. I remember sitting in Gold Medal Park reading it, realizing what was going on, and needing to set the book down to digest the cleverness of it. I said to myself, “No way, that’s genius.”
If you decide to read this, make sure you have enough time to read Chapter 20 in one stretch.
I’m giving this five out of five stars because it feels like a classic; its captivating and entrancing prose makes for a somewhat magical reading experience.