The Levee--William Kent Krueger

DEBORAH CROMBIE: We've talked a lot about audio books here on the blog lately (you all know it's one of my soapboxes!) Audio is the thing in publishing these days, and it's very fertile ground for authors to explore--as our very special guest today, WILLIAM KENT KRUEGER, will tell us. His audio novella, THE LEVEE, is just out and it's fabulous. Here's Kent with the story behind the project:

The Levee: A Literary Experiment

 

For the past several months, my publisher and I have been collaborating on a literary experiment. Last Tuesday, our work came to fruition. My novella The Levee was released by Simon and Schuster as an original audiobook. This has all been a completely new experience for me, and I’m still waiting to see the full outcome.

Why did I agree to be a part of this experiment? Here’s the main reason: I consider myself an artist. I believe all writers should think of themselves as artists, and words are our medium. If we do this, it means that we should always be trying to grow, to push our limitations, expand our reach. The Levee represents a new kind of storytelling for me, both in its length and in the venue of its offering.

Briefly, The Levee is set in the spring of 1927, during the worst flood in our nation’s history. In that spring, the lower Mississippi River spilled from its banks and covered more that 27,000 square miles with water up to thirty feet high. The river below Memphis, Tennessee, reached a width of eighty miles. In my story, at the height of this flood, four men are assigned the task of battling the treacherous river in a desperate attempt to rescue a family trapped by the rising waters.

This flood of Biblical proportions inspired William Faulkner’s classic novella The Old Man, which is the story of a convict conscripted to rescue a pregnant woman trapped by the raging river. I read that novella when I was in my mid-twenties. As with most of Faulkner’s work, I found the prose to be complex and difficult, but I also found the storyline compelling. As a young man dreaming of being a writer, I was inspired to create what I hoped might be a more accessible story of my own, which I titled “The Levee.” I never tried to get the story published. But, as every writer knows, you never throw anything away. So, I set the piece atop the pile of the other unpublished stories I’d written and moved on.

 In my mid-forties, still unpublished, I resurrected and reworked “The Levee” for a creative writing class I’d enrolled in at the University of Minnesota. Across the twenty intervening years, the heart of the piece had haunted me. I continued to be intrigued by the idea of an adventure story that probed deeper themes. The class and the instructor quite liked what I’d written, but the general consensus was that there was still a larger tale to be told. Again, I set the story aside.

In the long period of self-isolation that followed the descent of the pandemic in 2020, I entered one of the most productive periods of my life as a writer. I completed two novel-length manuscripts for my publisher, Atria Books, and drafted a couple of novellas. But I was still eager for more. So I reached into my vault of old, unpublished stories and pulled out “The Levee.”

Rather than merely rework that earlier attempt, I completely rethought the story. Maybe because I’ve been telling tales for a living for nearly a quarter of a century now, this new piece just seemed to flow from my imagination. For me, it became a story of the conundrum of both man and the natural world, the idea that each can behave in surprising ways and yet those surprises are predictably a part of the nature of each.

 When I announced the release of the novella, I got a lot of pushback from readers who insisted that they never listen to audiobooks. Holding a real book in their hands was the only way they wanted to access literature. If that’s the way the feel, it’s perfectly fine. But I’ve tried to point out to them that for countless millennia, long before the advent of written language and before the printing press made books accessible to the masses, storytelling was an oral tradition, and the storytellers were celebrated. Good stories are meant to fall trippingly off the tongue. I don’t know about other writers, but I always read my work out loud, both as I’m writing it and as I’m revising. I find that I can hear the clunk, the redundancies, the unnecessary words, the cadences that don’t quite work. It’s important to me to hear the flow of the story.

I’ve become a huge fan of audiobooks myself. Because I make a lot of speaking appearances across the country and because I’m not fond of flying, I drive thousands of miles every year. Just before I depart, I download audiobooks for the trip. Oh, my god, do the miles fly by when I’m listening to a good story read by a compelling narrator.

The question I’ve been asked most frequently is whether there will be a print version. I don’t know the answer. There aren’t a lot of platforms for a novella-length piece these days. Magazines such as Life that, in the old days, regularly published longer fiction, don’t exist anymore. And most publishers don’t consider a novella to be a viable length for print publication, unless it’s a part of a larger collection of work.

So, for the moment, The Levee is just available as an audiobook. Will this experiment succeed? In my own mind, it already has. I feel that I’ve grown as a writer, as an artist. So who knows? Maybe there will be more novellas down the road.

If you’d like to listen to an excerpt of the audiobook, here’s the link. 

DEBS: Let me just say that The Levee is absolutely gripping and if you're new to audio, this novella is a great place to start. It's available on many platforms--you don't have to have a subscription to listen.

Here's more about The Levee:

An audio original novella from the bestselling author of Ordinary Grace and This Tender Land, The Levee is a powerful, captivating story of a family, a storm, a complicated rescue, and the true cost of survival.

It’s 1927, and the most devastating flood in American history has swelled the Mississippi River to a width of eighty miles. In an attempt to save a family trapped by the rising water, four men in a tiny rowboat battle the treacherous flow: three are convicts, on loan from the local prison and pressed into service; the fourth, the leader of the team, is driven by his own hidden motives. But to their surprise upon arrival at Ballymore, an ancestral home protected by a high, circular levee, not everyone in the family feels the need to be saved. Pride, greed, loyalty, and even love create their own complex currents behind the massive wall. As the threat from the flood increases and time ticks away, the crew and the family must decide on a course of action, and a desperate plan is hatched to save the weakening levee and all it was built to protect.

The Levee is a propulsive, heartfelt tale of courage, cowardice, and sacrifice in a historic moment when the indomitable human spirit is pitted against the awesome and destructive power of nature.

And here's more about Kent (who is, I have to add, one of the nicest people in the mystery writing business, and I'm so tickled to have him on the blog!):

Raised in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon, William Kent Krueger briefly attended Stanford University—before being kicked out for radical activities. After that, he logged timber, worked construction, tried his hand at freelance journalism, and eventually ended up researching child development at the University of Minnesota. He’s been married for nearly fifty years to a marvelous woman who is a retired attorney. He makes his home in St. Paul, a city he dearly loves.

Krueger writes a mystery series set in the north woods of Minnesota. His protagonist is Cork O’Connor, the former sheriff of Tamarack County and a man of mixed heritage—part Irish and part Ojibwe. His work has received a number of awards, including the Minnesota Book Award, the Loft-McKnight Fiction Award, the Anthony Award, the Barry Award, the Dilys Award, and the Friends of American Writers Prize. His last nine novels were all New York Times bestsellers.

Ordinary Grace, his stand-alone novel published in 2013, received the Edgar Award, given by the Mystery Writers of America in recognition for the best novel published in that year. The companion novel, This Tender Land, was published in September 2019 and spent nearly six months on the New York Times bestseller list.

DEBS: How about it, dear readers? Are you willing to give something new a try? Pretend you're sitting around then campfire... Then pop back in and visit with Kent, who will be here to chat!

Where are the Fathers in Mystery?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: I thought that for Father's Day, it would be great idea to celebrate fathers in mysteries--fathers as the main protagonists, not as incidental characters. Then I found myself really struggling to think of men in mysteries, either series or standalones, who were fathers.

There is my Duncan Kincaid, who is a biological dad, a step-dad, and a foster dad, and while he doesn't always do the best job of juggling fatherhood with work, he does try.

There is Rhys Bowen's Daniel Sullivan, who, if not the primary protagonist, is certainly an important character. Who else comes to mind? William Kent Kruger's Cork O'Connor has kids. Elizabeth Peter's Emerson in the Amelia Peabody books. Dick Francis's Lee Morris in DECIDER, who has five boys--a very unusual set up for a mystery or suspense novel. It's one of my favorite Dick Francis novels, and the kids are an integral part of the story.

And... Help, REDS!
But the really big question here is why aren't there more dads? I know parenting complicates things in a story, for both men and women, but it's also a very ordinary and necessary and ubiquitous part of life that adds dimension to characters.

RHYS BOWEN: You've made me think, Debs. Isn't it interesting how many male sleuths are loners... And female too for that matter. I think your Duncan is a fabulous father role model. He and Gemma take their parenting as seriously as their sleuthing and it plays a big part in the stories. Reginald Hill's Pascoe is also a dad--one stretched to the limit in ON BEULAH HEIGHT. Barnaby  is a dad. I'm sure my Constable Evans had become a father by now! But why can I think of only British men?

LUCY BURDETTE: You are right Deb, it’s not that easy to find fathers in mysteries. In my own work, the closest I came was Detective Meigs in the advice column mysteries. He struggled with being a stepfather to a teenager in a way that I hope was realistic and meaningful. But two characters in a long running series that I love also come to mind. The first is CJ Box's Joe Pickett. His complete devotion to his daughters is one of the characteristics that makes him so very appealing. Also, Kent Krueger‘s Cork O’Connor is a wonderful father figure. In both of those series, the theme of family is woven powerfully through every book, and the fathers struggle with how their dangerous work might affect the people they love.

HALLIE EPHRON: Blame Raymond Chandler who said, "A really good detective never gets married." It does complicate the plot if your sleuth has kids. But somehow Michael Connelly manages it in THE LINCOLN LAWYER, and Bob Dugoni's Tracy Crosswhite is a terrific father. Jackson Brody in Kate Atkinson's books. Joe Finder's Nick Heller has to rescue his daughter when she's kidnapped and buried in a coffin in BURIED SECRETS.

But you're right. Not that many. Offspring do interfere with the potential studliness of a male protagonist.

INGRID THOFT: Carson Drew!  He’s the ultimate great mystery dad:  supportive yet cautious and loving.  And although they aren’t the characters actual fathers, I would argue that both Kinsey Millhone and V.I. Warshawski have wonderful father figures in their neighbors.  Henry cheers on Kinsey, but he isn’t afraid to butt head with her, and he bakes!  Mr. Contreras keeps an eye on the home front while V.I. is out sleuthing, and they share two dogs, making them co-parents of sorts.  Any of us would be lucky to have a Carson, Henry or Mr. Contreras in our corner.

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: Well, my own Russ Van Alstyne is about to become a father - and in fact, part of my last book, THROUGH THE EVIL DAYS, is about his coming to grips with the unexpected change in his life in his early fifties. Like Ingrid, I'm thinking about the fathers of detectives - they may be easier to spot! Paul Doiron's hero, game warden Mike Bowditch has a great father substitute in retired warden Charlie Stevens (who is the actual dad of Mike's girlfriend.) In addition, Mike's real dad is the focus of his first novel, THE POACHER'S SON. As you might tell from the title, he's not exactly an ideal role model.

The first book in Margaret Maron's Deborah Knott series is THE BOOTLEGGER'S DAUGHTER, so you know Debra's larger-than-life father Keziah Knott plays a big role - and he continues to be a strong influence on his daughter throughout the series. Oh, and I just thought of a detective whose fatherhood is front and center in the series: Jeff Cohen's Aaron Tucker, a stay-at-home dad who fits in sleuthing between freelance journalism and getting his two kids to their various practices/playdates/appointments. The first book is titled FOR WHOM THE MINIVAN ROLLS, which tells you all you need to know.

JENN MCKINLAY: The first author who came to mind for me is Harlan Coben. He writes a suburban New Jersey dad with a dark past like nobody's business. And then there's CJ Box's Joe Pickett, married with kids...and now I'm out of ideas. Parenting is not conducive to sleuthing unless your protagonist is in law enforcement in some way, like Pickett. At least, for me as a reader it doesn't work. I have a hard time believing a parent would put their child in danger to chase a bad guy while they have a two year old strapped in the car seat. 


HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: That is such a good question. In my books, I always make sure I plumb and understand the main characters's relationship with their father--but a father of the main character does not appear! That is pretty darn interesting.  And husband can be different than father, of course. But I'm trying to think of a book where someone runs to their father for attention or advice-in Ingrid's Fina books, the father is certainly a presence, but...   Oh!  Atticus Finch, of course.  Winner and still champion. 

DEBS:  Oh, thank you all! Now I have a bunch of things to add to my to-read list (must try Jeff Cohen--I cannot resist FOR WHOM THE MINIVAN ROLLS!) And lots of "Oh, of courses." How could I have forgotten Peter Pascoe? Or Joe Pickett? Or Jackson Brodie? And what about Ann Cleeve's Jimmy Perez? Or if you want to talk about a character who is haunted by a father, what about Ann Cleeve's Vera?

And how on earth could I have left out Armand Gamache??? 

READERS, who else have we missed? And do you agree that dads are underrepresented in mysteries?

William Kent Krueger: A Character Comes to Life

LUCY BURDETTE: Oh boy, if you Reds haven't yet read Kent Krueger's Cork O'Connor series, you are in for a treat. In fact, I am green with envy that you get the chance to start from the beginning and read them through. In order.

But listen, if even if you have read the books, you are still in for a treat, because Kent agreed to visit with us today to explain the mystery of how Cork O'Connor came to life.

KENT KRUEGER: Twenty years ago, a character began to materialize in my imagination.  This was long before I’d begun to write my first novel in the Cork O’Connor series, before I even knew that I would write mysteries.  I didn’t know a lot about this guy.  At first, the only thing really clear to me was that he would be the kind of man who was so resilient that, no matter how far life pushed him down, he would always bob back to the surface.  His name would be Cork.

Honest to God, that’s how it all began.

Why do we love a series?  More fundamental than any other element, it seems to me, is a love of the character, or characters, at the heart of the stories.  Everything else that might be good—the plots, the setting, the writing itself—is secondary to what brings us back to a series again and again.  We come back to be with people we care about.Readers tell me they like Cork O’Connor.  They tell me they care about him and his family and Henry Meloux, who is the spiritual center of most of the stories I’ve written.  Why do they care?  I think those who’ve followed my series from the beginning, or who discover my series and then go back to read from the beginning, understand that they’re watching a family history play out before their eyes.  They’re watching the saga of the O’Connors of Tamarack County.

Among the many choices I made early on in my thinking about Cork O’Connor was that I didn’t want him to be a static protagonist.  By static I mean a character who never changes.  Think Sherlock Holmes here.  You read one Sherlock Holmes story, and you know him.  He will never surprise you.  He will never age, never change his attitude toward life or his relationship to Watson, never be anything less than brilliant.  That’s not who I wanted to write about.  I wanted, in a way, to create a character who could mirror my own journey through life.  I wanted someone I considered dynamic, someone who would be changed as he confronts the realities of this world, or the realities as I know them—raising a family, negotiating the often difficult terrain of love relationships, failing and rising from that failure.  And, of course, aging.  I’ve used Cork often to help me explore real issues in my own life.  

In the first novel in the series, Cork is going through a pretty horrific midlife crisis.  Just as I was when I wrote the book.  In Blood Hollow, the fourth entry in my series, he struggles with the spiritual journey and the nature of death.  When I wrote that story, my mother was dying.  My seventh novel, Red Knife, a long rumination on violence in our culture, was written after the school shooting on the Red Lake Reservation in northern Minnesota, which left seven people dead.  It was the worst incident of its kind up that point in time, and it haunted me terribly.  On a happier note, a couple of years ago, in Northwest Angle, Cork became a grandfather.  I’m a grandfather, and I love writing about that experience.Write what you know.  What an old saw that is.  But I happen to believe it.  There’s much I write about that I have to research significantly—the culture of the Anishinaabeg, police procedure, forensic investigation, to name just a few.  But at heart, when I’m writing about Cork, I’m on wonderfully familiar ground.  What makes him compelling to readers?  

I believe it’s because he’s accessible, he’s flawed, he’s not always right, but he’s always struggling to do the right thing as he understands it.  He’s so very human.  Just like me, and, I think, just like the people who enjoy my work.

William Kent Krueger is the author of the New York Times bestselling Cork O'Connor mystery series, which is set in the great northwoods of Minnesota.  He makes his home with his wife and family in the city of Saint Paul.  You can find him on Facebook.
   

Reds, what makes a series character work for you? And Kent will be stopping in today to answer your questions and comments.