The New York Times
In the Heart of the Canyonby Elisabeth Hyde, Mark Deakins (Read by), Cassandra Campbell (Read by)
Meet Peter, twenty-seven, single, and looking for a quick hookup; Evelyn, a fifty-year-old Harvard professor; and Ruth and Lloyd, river veterans in their seventies. There’s Mitchell, an/i>
From the author of The Abortionist’s Daughter, a gripping new novel about a rafting trip through the Grand Canyon that changes the lives of everyone on board.
Meet Peter, twenty-seven, single, and looking for a quick hookup; Evelyn, a fifty-year-old Harvard professor; and Ruth and Lloyd, river veterans in their seventies. There’s Mitchell, an overeager history buff with no qualms about upstaging the guides with his knowledge. There’s Jill from Salt Lake City, wanting desperately to spark some sense of adventure in her staid Mormon family; and seventeen-year-old Amy, so woefully overweight that she can barely fit into a pup tent, let alone into a life jacket.
Guiding them all is JT Maroney, who loves the river with all his heart and who, having made 124 previous trips down the Colorado, thinks he has seen everything. But on their first night, a stray dog wanders into their campsite, upsetting the tentative equilibrium of this makeshift family. Over the next thirteen days, as various decisions are second-guessed and sometimes regretted, both passengers and guides find that sometimes the most daunting adventures on a Colorado River trip have nothing to do with white-water rapids, and everything to do with reconfiguring the rocky canyons of the heart.
From the Hardcover edition.
The New York Times
A group of strangers converges for a rafting trip in Hyde's fifth novel, an astute, engrossing character-driven affair. Assembled for guide JT Maroney's 125th excursion down the Colorado River are Peter, a Cincinnati 20-something; Harvard professor Evelyn; the Compsons, a family of four from Salt Lake City; and three couples: the Frankels, seasoned rafters in their 70s; mother and daughter Susan and Amy Van Doren; and the Boyer-Brandts, both 60-ish. After a cursory safety orientation, personalities emerge: Evelyn is nursing a broken heart; Peter is desperate to hook up with assistant guide Dixie; Ruth Frankel frets over her forgetful husband, Lloyd; and Susan battles inner demons and her overweight daughter, Amy (whose diary entries are interwoven). A stray dog joins the gang as bouts with heatstroke, festering open wounds and capsizing boats threaten to sabotage the adventure, though these seem tame compared to the surprise that hits downriver. The novel succeeds as both a study of strangers striving toward a common goal and as a suspenseful drama filled with angst and humanity. Hyde outshines herself with this wild ride. (July)Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
—The New York Times Book Review
“An excellent armchair adventure. . . . Hyde vividly portrays both the wonders and horrors of white-water rafting.”
—The Boston Globe
“A near perfect blend of humor and drama, heartbreak and redemption.”
—The Dallas Morning News
“Hyde has a keen eye for social dynamics, but she’s just as good at keeping the adrenaline pumping. . . . She expertly evokes the thrill and terror of rapid-running. . . . A bracing ride.”
“A fast-paced trip down the Colorado River. . . . Hyde hints at adventure around every bend in the river . . . and she delivers. . . . The book is a pleasing mix of travelogue and psychological exploration.”
“A poignant, first-rate story.”
—The Denver Post
“Hyde scores a bull’s-eye with her fifth novel. . . . An engrossing, evocative study of human behavior, especially under duress. . . . A great read for hot summer days and cool nights.”
—The Durango Herald (Colorado)
“An astute, engrossing, character-driven affair. . . . The novel succeeds as both a study of strangers striving toward a common goal and as a suspenseful drama filled with angst and humanity. Hyde outshines herself with this wild ride.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Hyde writes with subtle humor and with such expertise that readers will feel as if they’re in the raft with her. . . . In this book, it’s not the finale that will win you. It’s the journey.”
—The Arizona Republic
“There’s nothing predictable about either Hyde’s plot or her searing conclusion.”
“Hyde writes evocatively. . . . Her sense of place and descriptive ability are as bright as the Arizona sun.”
“Realistically suspenseful. . . . In the Heart of the Canyon is perfect summer reading.”
—The Columbus Dispatch (Ohio)
“Many things can happen on those wild-river trips, things that novelists manage to turn into great fiction. Here’s a new twist on the scenario . . . a ride below the Grand Canyon that promises adventure aplenty.”
“The group dynamics on a trip like this are fascinating, and the book is another winner.”
—The Toronto Sun
“Beach reads abound, but few are as well written as In the Heart of the Canyon. . . . Think romantic trysts and a seismic surprise—[it] will hold you rapt.”
“It is unlikely you will soon forget your traveling companions.”
“This finely wrought page-turner will keep you on a wild ride for all 226 miles. You won’t want to put it down.”
—Page Lambert, author of In Search of Kinship
- Random House Audio Publishing Group
- Publication date:
- Edition description:
- Product dimensions:
- 5.06(w) x 5.98(h) x 1.14(d)
Read an Excerpt
T H E G U E S T S
Peter Kramer, age twenty-seven, a cartographer from Cincinnati
Evelyn Burns, age fifty, a biology professor at Harvard University
The Frankels, from Evanston, Illinois Ruth, age seventy-three, a painter Lloyd, age seventy-six, a physician
The Van Dorens, from Mequon, Wisconsin Susan, age forty-three, a guidance counselor Amy, age seventeen
The Boyer-Brandts, from Green River, Wyoming Mitchell, age fifty-nine, a devoted historian Lena, age sixty, a kindergarten teacher
The Compsons, from Salt Lake City Jill, age thirty-eight, a stay-at-home mom Mark, age forty, a businessman Matthew, age thirteen Sam, age twelve
T H E G U I D E S
JT Maroney, Trip Leader, age fifty-two
Abo, the paddle captain, age thirty-five
Dixie Ann Gillis, age twenty-seven
Down in the heart of the canyon, in the bone-baking heat, they put their lives on hold.
Most of the travelers had never experienced anything quite like it. Peter Kramer, whose year mapping the jungles of Central America included a monthlong stay in an unair-conditioned hospital with a fever of 104, found it impossible to suck down more than short little
gasps of hot air. Evelyn Burns, professor of biology at Harvard University, spent the first day lecturing everyone about the tolerability of dry heat (105 in Arizona being nothing compared to 90 in Boston), then vomited five minutes into the first windstorm. Dr. and Mrs. Lloyd Frankel, river veterans, lay on their sleeping mats in stunned oblivion to the velvety orange wasps that scurried in blind circles on the hot
sand between them. And Amy Van Doren, who unbeknownst to her mother had weighed in at 237 pounds on the hotel spa scale the night
before the trip, rigorously shook the bottle of hot sauce over everything on her plate, for she knew that chile peppers made you sweat,
which in turn would not only cool her off but enable her to lose a few pounds.
JT, the head guide, had seen it all before. This being his 125th trip down the Colorado River, he’d witnessed time and again the universal
zombielike walk of his guests at the end of the day when they staggered up the beach in search of a campsite. He called it the Death
Walk and always reminded his fellow guides not to expect much volunteer help in the first few days of any July trip, as guests acclimated to the suffocating conditions of the Grand Canyon. It was simply a matter of physiology: the human body wasn’t designed to go from a comfortable air-conditioned existence to the prehistoric inferno of canyon life in a day. When his heat-stomped campers marveled at his energy, he kept at what he was doing and raised an eyebrow and said, “You’ll adjust.”
JT was a man of few words.
At night it was so hot you slept without a blanket, or even a sheet, for well past midnight the winds continued to fan the heat off the sun-baked canyon walls. In early morning, as people shook out their clothes for scorpions, the air could feel temperate, and they might be
fine in just a bathing suit; but as soon as the sun’s rays came barreling over the canyon walls, out came the long-sleeved cotton shirts, which got repeatedly dunked in the river, wrung out, and worn, soaked to chill, until sundown.
During the midday furnace, when even the guides crawled into whatever shade they could find and collectively dreamt of that first brisk morning in October when you could see your breath, JT himself would confront the heat head-on. Alone in his raft, he would kneel against the side tubes with his arms draped over the edge, staring in a kind of rapt hypnosis at the sheer walls across the river. Something in
the flat midday light, he’d found, caused them to eventually start floating upstream, a mirage of the mind until he blinked, and then they
would snap back into place until the next daze sent them floating upstream again. It was a game he played, a game he’d never reveal to
anyone lest they think him soft, or spiritual, or just plain wacky.
But in fact he was all three. JT Maroney’s heart was in those walls, and had been since his first trip thirty-five years ago when someone
handed him a life jacket and a paddle and said, “Are you coming or not?” It was in the polished maroon cliffs of Marble Canyon, the dusty
tan layers of Coconino sandstone; it was embedded forever in the shimmering black walls of the Inner Gorge, Land of the Giants. It was
in the scorpions and the velvet wasps and the stinging red ants that sent you running for a vial of ammonia; it was in the feathery tamarisk
trees and the canyon wrens’ falling notes and the grumpy blackwinged California condor he spotted without fail as they passed under Navajo Bridge the first day of every trip. It was in the tug of water around his ankle as he splashed about, rigging his boat; it was in the
sunlit droplets that danced above the roar of big water.
Each trip changed him a little. This trip would change him a lot. It would change everyone, in ways no one could have anticipated.
But on the Fourth of July, at the beginning of JT’s 125th trip, it wasn’t about change. It was about drinking beer and eating pie and dreaming up new ways to fly the Stars and Stripes over the grandest river in the West.
Up at Lee’s Ferry, the night before the trip, JT sat on the side tube of his eighteen-foot neoprene raft, popped open a beer, and tried to remember exactly how many times he’d flipped his raft in Hermit.
Deep in the Inner Gorge, ninety-five miles downstream, the runoff boulders from Hermit Creek collided with the Colorado River to create one of the longest hydraulic roller coasters in the canyon, wave after wave of foaming madness. The fifth wave, in particular, had a tendency to curl back upon itself, something that could easily flip a boat. JT’s goal was always to punch straight on through, aiming for just enough of a wild ride to give his passengers a thrill without actually flipping. Trouble was, sometimes the ride got ahead of itself, and JT hit that fifth wave with maybe too much weight in the back, and suddenly there they were, rising up, hovering in midair with water roaring all around and JT heaving his weight into the oars even as he felt them go back and over: down into the churning froth, getting maytagged and then popping up into the light, always disoriented until he spotted the white underside of his raft, which was usually right there beside him. And so it was, more than just a few times in his life as a guide, and although there were always a few who subsequently wanted off, now, what made it all worthwhile was seeing the expressions on the others’ faces as he hauled them up onto the upturned belly of his raft—expressions of shock, adrenaline, joy, fear, joy, excitement, and did he mention joy? Because that’s what it was, usually: the sheer exultation of surviving a swim in the most powerful river in the northern hemisphere.
JT tallied up the times he’d flipped. Five in all, if his memory served him well.
Draining his beer, he tossed the empty can onto a tarp on the beach and reached into the mesh drag bag for another. The sun was still high in the sky, the water a deep turtle green, achy cold if you left your foot in for more than a few seconds. Across the river, tan hills sloped up from the water’s edge, speckled with piñon and sage and juniper; downstream, salmon pink cliffs marked the beginning of Marble Canyon.
JT was the lead boatman for this trip, the Trip Leader, and as such he was the one who made all the important day-to-day decisions: where to stop for lunch, which hikes to take, whether they’d schedule a layover day. If there was a problem passenger, JT was responsible for reigning him in; if someone got hurt, JT decided whether to evacuate. JT figured he was good for two trips per season as lead boatman; you got paid a little more, but you never really slept.
Up on the beach, Dixie and Abo, his fellow guides, worked together stuffing tents one by one into a large rubberized bag. JT was tired and hungry and wished briefly that they were cooking him a good dinner instead. After a long morning spent loading up the truck back at the warehouse in Flagstaff, they’d driven the three hours to Lee’s Ferry, where they worked the entire afternoon rigging their boats in the hot desert sun. The beach at Lee’s Ferry was the only put-in point on the river, so it was crowded with people and boats: two fat motorized rafts, a dozen or so durable eighteen-footers, and a flotilla of colorful kayaks. The beach was littered with so much gear—dinged-up ammunition boxes, waterproof bags, paddles, oars, life jackets, water jugs—that it resembled a paddlers’ flea market. Yet despite the mayhem, everybody seemed to know what was what and whose was whose, and JT knew that by ten o’ clock tomorrow, all this gear would be stowed in its rightful place on the boats.
High in the sky, a turkey vulture slowly circled, its white-tipped wings spread wide. The people on the motor rig had set up lawn chairs and opened umbrellas for shade, but nobody was sitting down; there was too much work to be done, although they did it with a beer in hand. Up on the beach, Abo, his paddle captain, was mending a book with duct tape, while Dixie, who would be rowing their third boat, was assembling their picnic dinner. She wore a yellow bathing suit top and a blue sarong knotted low on her hips; wet braids curled at her shoulders.
“How come there are only five sandwiches?” she asked.
“Four for me, one for you and JT to split,” said Abo.
“Well, someone’s going hungry,” said Dixie, “and it isn’t going to be me.”
JT smiled to himself. He was glad to have these two for his crew. Abo, who could always be counted on to loosen up a group, was thirty-five, tall and bony-legged, with bleachy-tipped brown hair and clear blue eyes. Nobody knew his real name. He was a farm boy from the Midwest who’d come out to study geology at the University of Arizona, then took a river trip and never went back to school. During the winter, he built houses and scavenged work up at the ski area. Reputedly, he had a son by a woman in California, a movie producer whom Abo had met on an earlier trip. He was a good guide, in JT’s view; not only did he make people laugh, but as an amateur geologist he knew the pastry layers of the canyon better than anyone.
Dixie, whose real name was just that, Dixie Ann Gillis, was twenty-seven. She was relatively new with the company, and he’d only done one other trip with her, but he’d been impressed when he watched her rescue a private boater from the Rock Garden below Crystal Rapid. She had strong opinions about a lot of things, and JT liked that about her. If you caught him with his guard down, JT might admit that he was half in love with Dixie, but she had a boyfriend down in Tucson whose picture she kept taped to the inside of her personal ammo box, and JT wasn’t one to mess with somebody else’s good thing. Besides, after 124 trips, JT knew how things worked in the canyon, knew you could fall in love at the drop of a hat, literally, before you even got through Marble Canyon. It was a guide’s life to fall in love, he knew; he’d done his share, but if there was one thing he understood these days, it was to stand back and not get caught up in things, trip after trip after trip.
JT unlatched the ammo box by his feet and took out the passenger list and scanned the names and notes. They were supposed to have fourteen passengers on the trip, but at the last minute one couple had canceled, which meant he was going to have to juggle the seating arrangements to balance out the boats. There were two vegetarians, three “no dairy,” one “high craving for red meat.” Most had no rafting experience, which didn’t surprise him; but one couldn’t swim, which did. There were two kids, which pleased him; kids usually brought a goofy spirit absent in adults, who too easily fell victim to excessive reverence for natural wonders. He made a mental note to assign the boys a job—can-smasher, maybe—so they could feel useful and independent from their parents.
He continued scanning. There was a couple from Wyoming, named Mitchell and Lena; Lena, he noted, was allergic to peanuts, furry animals, grasses, and pollen. Well, hopefully she was bringing along a box of Benadryl and an EpiPen or two. There was a mother and daughter, Susan and Amy. The one who couldn’t swim was a young man from Ohio named Peter, age twenty-seven, traveling solo.
Noting Peter’s age, JT glanced up at Dixie, who was reknotting her sarong. Don’t even think of it, he heard himself telling Peter. Don’t even try.
That evening, as the sky grew dark, boaters from all the groups gathered together and passed around a bottle of whiskey, sharing old stories, inventing new ones. Around nine thirty, JT, who’d passed on the second round, returned to his raft. He brushed his teeth, then unrolled his sleeping bag across the long, flat meat cooler that spanned the center of his boat. Even though it was dark, the day’s heat continued to radiate off the canyon walls. JT strapped on his headlamp and sat down and carefully and methodically dried off his feet. He rubbed them well with bee balm, then pulled on a pair of clean socks to keep his skin from cracking. Finally he stretched out on top of his sleeping bag. He settled back and locked his hands behind his head and gazed up at the spattered current of stars above. A warm breeze fanned his skin, and he picked out constellations: the Big Dipper, Cassiopeia, the busy little Pleiades.
Up on the beach, a burst of laughter erupted from the revelers, but by now his eyes had begun to twitch and blur. He fought to keep them open, to watch just a little bit more of the star show, but within minutes he was fast asleep.
Meet the Author
Elisabeth Hyde is the author of four previous novels. Born and raised in New Hampshire, she has since lived in Vermont, Washington, D.C., San Francisco, and Seattle. In 1979 she received her law degree and practiced briefly with the U.S. Department of Justice. She currently lives in Colorado with her family.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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In The Heart of the Canyon has a little something for everyone. If you're interested in the basic geology/geography of the canyon, Hyde gives good descriptions of the rock formations, currents, wildlife, and weather. The character development is also well done a and you will most likely find yourself identifying with one of the characters and their experiences on the river trip. Of course, the suspense comes when they hit the rough rapids, or how they will handle the variety of unpredictable situations that arise on this particular trip. For anyone who has ever stood on the rim of the Canyon, and looked down on that thin green "stream" at the bottom and wondered what it is like down there, this book will give you a good idea, along with a good story to boot.
Colorado River rafting guide JT Maroney has a diverse group joining him on his 125th whitewater trip down the river. J.T. is especially concerned with the experience level or lack thereof by some of his passengers. Unemployed Peter Kramer seems only interested in getting into the pants of the assistant guide Dixie Ann Gillis. The Frankel couple, seasoned seventy- something rafters who unbeknownst to J.T. Ruth conceals that Lloyd suffers from Alzheimer's. The sexagenarian pair Boyer-Brandt, mother Susan and obese teen daughter Amy Van Doren, Evelyn the Harvard professor, and the four Compsons of Salt Lake City round out the rafters. The strangers assemble for thirteen days of Forming, Storming, Norming,. Performing and Adjourning IN THE HEART OF THE CANYON This is an exciting insightful look at how groups even doing outdoor activities work as the audience gets a deep look at the entire cast including the leader. "OMG" to quote Amy, the story line gets into the heart of its ensemble cast to include the river. Although an emergency spin feels contrived to add unnecessary life threatening action, but instead almost drowns the prime plot; fans will enjoy this profound look at group dynamics in the wild. Harriet Klausner
Group dynamics always fascinate me. I remember when I was a teenager, my friends and I would go to the airport just to people watch. It's one of the best places for it! Sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's exciting, but it's always fun learning a bit about human behavior. Elisabeth Hyde definitely gives us some people watching to do in In the Heart of the Canyon. The setting is a rafting trip through the Grand Canyon, and the "people watching" is done through the perspectives of multiple characters, six to be exact, who are each sharing their thoughts about each other as well as their rafting experience in general. The individuals and families who have embarked on this trip all come from a variety backgrounds and they all have their own reasons for being there. Sometimes, the content was fairly humdrum and sometimes it was OMG! What??? But overall, I liked it and found it to be a worthwhile reading experience. One thing I took away from reading In the Heart of the Canyon was a lesson about judging others based on appearances and the life you think they have lead. People always have a way of surprising you in life and I love that. Remember, “There's no such thing as a stranger, just people we haven't met.” Maybe you will take something else away from your reading experience. Read it and find out! My favorite quote: “...in his heart, he'd like to think that beneath the surface of every pain in the ass was a well intentioned individual who could probably shed light on some topic that he'd always been wondering about.”
I enjoyed this book but somehow I was under the impression the events that befell this cast of characters on this trip would be more dramatic and more life threatening. I kept waiting for something more along the lines of a survival story. This is not what this book is about. This is a basic story about a trip of very well drawn characters. It was very realistic, humerous at times and conservative in its approach. I expected each of the characters to under go a life changing experience and only one or two of the characters do. This left me a little disappointed but overall it was a nice simple entertaining story. I will read other works by this author. I felt this was well researched and the descriptions of the canyon are worthy of mention. To me the strength of this novel is when the author describes the thoughts of each of the characters while they witnesss the same events. Each person had their own personal take on what transpired. This rang very true to me and very well thought out. If I could I would have given it 3 1/2 stars.
I really liked this one. Can't wait to read another Elisabeth Heyde book. A very enjoyable novel.
I really loved this book. You find yourself getting involved with the characters and feel like you are on the trip with them. Makes me want to sign myself up for a rafting trip!!
I couldn't put this book down. I'm not great at writing reviews but I would absolutley recommend this book to other readers. I can't wait to pass over my book to a friend.
I passed the book on to a friend who did the same which indicates that I'm not the only one who liked this book. The story is not complex and is a good one to read on vacation. It pulled me in with excellent descriptions of the scenery, whitewater rafting action and a diverse group of folks experiencing the tour together. I've been to camp and one time took a 'baby' level trip down a river with a guide..so I wanted to see what would happen to those who do more advanced rafting. The book brought it to life and now I'm very tempted to get out there and do the real thing. Read it - very enjoyable.
This book is okay if you want a quick light read. Perfect for airplanes or the beach. Just okay for me. Not much else to say for it. I think I mainly chose it for the dog story. Not even that great a dog story.