The Gold In These Hills. Joanne Bischof. 2021. [August] 336 pages. [Source: Review copy]
First sentence: It’s paramount that my daughter and I survive the coming winter, yet ghost towns are not for the living. Still, this desolate place with its remaining miners and abandoned buildings is home.
The Gold In These Hills is two stories in one--for better or worse. One story--narrated by Juniper Cohen--is set in Kenworthy, California, in 1902/1903. The second story--narrated by Johnny Sutherland--is set in the same location just in modern times. The stories alternate.
Juniper's husband has gone missing--presumed dead by some. Without John by her side, Juniper is struggling to raise their daughter, Bethany. The two live in the outskirts of a ghost town--all but a resilient, stubborn few--have left for greener pastures--so to speak. The promised gold mine with wealth and riches a fabricated lie. She gives it her all, and at night she pours it all out on paper--Dearest John.
Johnny Sutherland has struggles of his own. Partly to work through his struggles, partly because it is awesome, he has just bought a major fixer-upper. The only remaining homestead from the town that was Kenworthy. It has been a museum for ages--decades--but now it is his. It comes with a story waiting to be unpacked and discovered.
I found The Gold In These Hills to be a compelling read. It was an intense read with plenty of feels. I loved, loved, loved, loved Juniper's story. I loved Johnny's story too. (Though I found it a bit more problematic.)
I thought it was beautifully--artistically--written. This was a crafted novel. There was nothing fluffy or insubstantial about it. It was well done. The characters were fleshed out as well; they were oh-so-human. This goes for both story lines. But I personally felt the historical story was the stronger of the two.
If I could change anything about this novel, it would be the tacked-on-romance for the contemporary story. Some readers may not feel it was tacked on. Some may genuinely think the romance was organic and natural to this particular story. But not me. Nope. I felt the whole character and their inferred upcoming romance was just an add on. One that I didn't need. Not every Christian fiction needs to have a romantic element.
I liked the contemporary story best when it was focused on Johnny--his struggles, his family, his hopes, his dreams, his frustrations, his disappointments. I liked it least when it was straining to connect the dots between the two stories and force them together.
That being said, it is one of the most literary books I've read in the Christian fiction genre in quite a while. I have to say the writing was excellent.
Quotes:
- Now the mine is quiet, and hope is as dusty as everything else. All we hear is come nightfall when all the abandoned dogs that have turned wild howl at the moon. That is Kenworthy now.
- I married a stranger once. It could be done again.
- I feel ashamed to love him. I feel more ashamed to hate him. And so it is upon the closing of each day that I settle at the upstairs desk beneath the window and write the two words that somehow keep me from coming apart at the seams.
- The harsh truth about a ghost town is that you’re not supposed to still live here. The few who remain? We are the forgotten.
- If she only knew that I would give up a thousand hellos from a thousand men for the chance to see John once more. But she doesn’t know this because I’ve kept the longing pinned deep inside. Like a hidden pocket that I let no one see into. Perhaps it is pride—the burning need for me to be strong. Not fragile or weak. Perhaps it is because I scarcely acknowledge that place myself. Only when I am alone, and can cry freely, do I concede how much my heart still beats for a man who is lost to me.
- There’s really nothing else to do but stand boot to boot with grief. In most slot canyons, there are spots that are so tight they only get a few minutes of sunlight each day. We call these narrows. Is this what I’m facing now? The narrows? It’s hard to see the sun here. Nearly impossible to feel the light. But one thing I’ve learned in all my years of canyoneering is that you have to keep moving . . . and the scenery will change. It’s the narrows that make you braver. Stronger. It’s the narrows that change you.
- Her sweetness brings me life. Even though my heart is broken, God is showing me how to bind it up tight in grace and press onward. Hope remains fractured. That which I held onto for John is like ash, and I do not know how to revive it. I do not believe I should try. But for Bethany and me? Hope must bloom and blossom.
- Walking has been my salvation of late. A way to move forward in body even if all else lingers at a standstill.
- They’ve pulled off their hats, standing as centennials, a respect that people say doesn’t exist in the West between the white and those who lived here a thousand years before. Yet it exists this day, and I am only sorry it has taken the loss of an infant’s life to spark such unity. I pray it is a legacy that will linger on. They say there is no gold in these hills. But as a father lays dirt over a wooden box, there suddenly is. She’s the most precious thing that this stretch of mountain has ever had the honor to hold.
- Edie walks in an agony all her own, and yet words of hope are rising from her heart. It is a heart that has been forged in gold. It is the gold that dwells here in Kenworthy. Perhaps the mine has always been empty, but we have a fortune that cannot be dug from the soil. Instead, it is in the lessons we have learned, the people we’ve come to love, and the way our faith grows in the desert and deep in the mountains. That is the gold that dwells in these hills, and it is an honor for Edie and me to have witnessed its glory.
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