A thousand miles off course, a private plane grazes a historic lighthouse and crashes on a snow-covered precipice a hundred feet above Lake Superior. There’s a dead pilot on board, but three VIP passengers are missing. The FBI, NTSB and others head to the crash site in remote Lake County, Minnesota, where the locals are dealing with one of the coldest winters on record.
A deadly snowmobile accident, an upstart candidate for Congress, and alarming discoveries in Isle Royale National Park add to the challenges confronting local sheriff Sam MacDonald as the solitude of the North Shore is disrupted by events that could have national and international repercussions. The weather is just one of the circumstances that create a climate for death.Barnes and Noble
Read: June 2021
Rating: 2.5 stars out of 5
At this point, I’ve become familiar with reviewing a book that I badly wanted to like but ended up having to force myself through. The disappointment is especially strong when someone offers you their work to review because I feel disappointment on their behalf too, I think. But an honest review is warranted, and so honest I shall be.
If A Climate for Death were adapted as a movie or a series, I honestly would watch it. A murder mystery? And it’s set in the Great Lakes? Sounds good. I know that sounds contradictory to what I just said, but I’ll explain. The plot of this book is its strong point. The concept for A Climate for Death isn’t bad at all, and Lund generally has a firm grasp on how he wants the plot to play out. The motives for the murders are wild, but I’ve watched enough Dateline and listened to enough My Favorite Murder to know that people are fucking crazy and do insane things for insane reasons. Lund even goes so far as to openly address this via Hinton, albeit regarding an incorrectly named suspect:
“That’s because you’re trying to attribute rational thoughts and motives to an irrational, desperate man.”
My most prominent stumbling blocks were Lund’s writing style and characterization. Lund loves to infodump, and he loves to do it in the worst possible way. He doesn’t just spout relevant information in unwieldy lumps: He tells you all the shit you don’t need to know and probably won’t care about. No, Lund, I do not need to know the alma mater of every character who ever appears on your pages. I don’t need to be told that the wife of the lighthouse keeper is beautiful and intelligent when she only appears on like five pages. I certainly don’t need to know the fucking life story of the guy from whom Redman purchases his new car. It’s almost like when Lund introduces his characters or paints their backgrounds, he just copies his notes on their biographical profiles into paragraph form. This has the unfortunate effect of making the reader feel less like they’re reading a novel and more like they’re reading an entire wiki about the novel. Yes, details are important to illustrate characters, but for shit’s sake, please skip the biography of each Tim, Terrance, and Kathy who so much as farts on-page.
Lund also has this weird habit of throwing in a detail that is completely out of left field and just… never mentioning it again. For instance, in the beginning of the book, an exhausted Sheriff MacDonald is asleep at his desk, and his coworkers/employees wake him up and brief him on their findings. When his detective asks if he’s paying attention, we get this insight into MacDonald’s dream:
MacDonald had been watching his six-year-old daughter practice a dance routine at the Little Gym in Falls Church, Virginia. His first wife and their daughter had been decapitated when her car slid under a braking semi-trailer during a snowstorm in McLean in January of 2013.
I understand how this horrific incident could really shape a character’s life, but MacDonald doesn’t expand upon that. This is a particularly gruesome and traumatic event to just toss out to the readers like some kind of morbid steak and then never touch again beyond MacDonald having a couple of bad dreams or vague memories. I don’t even think the wife and daughter were ever named (but maybe my memory is fuzzy on that matter). Speaking of weird, an odd number of characters are involved in relationships with huge age gaps. I know (adult) people sometimes find love with someone significantly older than themselves, but it’s a tad strange when most of the couples have an age gap of eleven years or more.
The writing style is largely responsible for this book’s other major flaw: characterization. The Wikipedia article-type exposition Lund employed – Lund’s preference for telling instead of showing – failed to connect me with the characters. Near the end of the book, Hallie, MacDonald’s second wife (not the one who got decapitated), announces that she’s pregnant. And I just don’t care. If the characterization were better, I would have squeaked with joy for Hallie and Mac. The strongest emotional response I can muster up is the halfhearted, perfunctory “oh good for them” that I’d typically associate with learning that a cousin’s cousin’s cousin was expecting. I guess I kind of like Redman, but that’s mostly because he adopted a dog shortly before he’s introduced in the book. Liz, Jenny, Jeronimas are intriguing, but in a distant sort of way. Everyone in this book has the potential to be much more interesting than they are in the book.
While A Climate for Death definitely didn’t tickle me right, it has a strong plot. (Bonus: It’s also pretty cool to hear a sexagenarian bash a thinly-veiled stand-in for Donald Trump, support liberal policies, cheer on a gay trans couple, and use the phrase “sat his privileged fat ass.”) With a little work on his delivery and his characterization, Lund could blossom into a truly powerful novelist.
Disclaimer: I won this book in a giveaway in exchange for an honest review.