Winner of the Christianity Today Book Award, Fiction
"Hulse’s talent is evidenced by her nuanced portrayal of Jo and the way she sees the world. In her relationship with Asa, in particular — both are scarred, both trying to heal — Hulse . . . perfectly captures not only the landscape of the American West, but also what it feels like to survive in a town that is dying."
—Alexi Zentner, The New York Times Book Review
"Across two novels, S.M. Hulse has been inventing a new version of the western. Part of her mission involves updating the genre’s content, thrusting its violent themes into the present day . . . [Eden Mine is] a welcome entry in the genre of terror-themed fiction, which since 9/11 has been prone to either Don DeLillo-esque geopolitical pronunciamentos or unsatisfying mind-of-a terrorist psychological studies. Hulse simply concedes that the motivations of a terrorist are unknowable; she wants to understand the blast radius, not the bomb."
—Mark Athitakis, The Los Angeles Times
"An urgent, timely novel about a courthouse bombing, rural Montana, and a clash with the government."
—Men's Journal
“This is a surprising and timely book, written with a compassion and tenderness rarely given to difficult topics like political tension within families and communities. In our polarized world, where reductionist thinking is largely the norm, S. M. Hulse’s novel offers us nuanced characters who are trying to sort out their complicated bonds to other people. It reminds us that no individual should ever be reduced to one moment, one action, or one belief.”
—Lanta Davis, Christianity Today
"Stirring . . . a thought-provoking look at despair and loyalty in struggling small-town America."
—Shelf Awareness
"Brilliant . . . The slow revelations . . . make it deeply compelling . . . There are wonderful descriptions of Jo’s mule Lockjaw, which highlight Hulse’s understanding of horses and their relatives . . . The best part may be the way that the story is concluded, since the reader knows that a showdown is inevitable. The whole thing is beautifully done and rightfully will be a favorite of book discussion groups who will enjoy the character development and the themes of art, faith, morality, and paralysis, set within the wide spaces and dying towns of Montana."
—Leslie DeLooze, The Daily News
“Hulse follows up her strong debut (Black River, 2015) with an even stronger novel about the fallout from an act of domestic terrorism . . . [A] dense yet lucid narrative. The nail-biting denouement is . . . an additional sign of this young writer’s mature artistic powers. Reflective, evocative, and quietly moving.”
—Kirkus (starred review)
"A taut, poignant tale . . . The dramatic conclusion kicks like a mule, a testament to Hulse's storytelling acumen."
—Publishers Weekly
“In this subtle, powerful, unflinchingly honest novel, S. M. Hulse takes for her palette some of life’s most vital subjects—faith, love, loyalty, family, goodness, God—and paints her story with all the skill of a master artist blocking out her canvas, tender stroke by tender stroke, bringing it to life. Each color more complex than its name, each line put down with purpose. As sweet-souled as it is clear-eyed, Eden Mine will linger with me for a long time.”
—Josh Weil, author of The Age of Perpetual Light
"Mourning, loss, and love illuminate the pages of Hulse's ruminative novel. Especially fine is her rendering of a person of faith struggling with doubt and the nature of evil. Fans of Annie Proulx may appreciate the novel's pensive mood and the exploration of a place where people have few options and little hope."
—Joan Curbow, Booklist
“No one writes about the contemporary rural West with as much intelligence, empathy, and honesty as S. M. Hulse. Eden Mine is a deep dive below the headlines, a novel about family, friends, and neighbors grappling with the aftermath of an act of domestic terrorism. It’s a luminous, deeply moving, insightful novel, abiding at the intersection of public politics and the most private of emotions. There’s nothing else quite like it.”
—Molly Gloss, author of Falling from Horses
“Eden Mine is one of the rarest of novels: it’s a page-turning thriller, yes, but its twists and turns are the result of complex characters making difficult, heartbreaking choices. The novel illuminates both contemporary political tensions and older, deeper ones, particularly the tragedies that can arise when we assume an easy understanding of what’s right, what’s wrong—and what qualifies as justice.”
—Christopher Coake, author of You Came Back
Praise for S. M. Hulse
“Evokes the Montana landscape in lyrical, vivid prose.”
—Nick Romeo, The Boston Globe
“One of the few novelists working today . . . capable of portraying religion as a natural, integral element of characters’ lives—the way it is for most Americans . . . A surprisingly wise young writer.”
—Ron Charles, The Washington Post
12/23/2019
Hulse (Black River) revisits the American West with a taut, poignant tale of a personal vendetta turned act of domestic terror. Lone wolf bomber Samuel Faber disappears after blowing up a courthouse in Elk Fork, Mont., and unintentionally injuring a dozen people in a church across the street. His sister, Jo, a paraplegic artist, refuses to cooperate with the authorities, even after befriending a pastor named Asa Truth, whose daughter was gravely injured in the blast. The two bond in their mutual desire to retain some semblance of faith, Asa in God and Jo, less understandably, in Samuel. Hulse labors to blur the lines between good and evil, drawing out Jo and Samuel’s backstory—their father’s death in a mine collapse, their mother’s violent murder, the state government’s imminent seizure of the property—to highlight the past’s indelible marks on the present. As the sheriff leads a manhunt for Samuel, Hulse shares the fugitive bomber’s point of view, adding to a chorus of voices grappling with questions of loyalty, faith, injustice, and redemption. Despite stock characterizations and plotting, the dramatic conclusion kicks like a mule, a testament to Hulse’s storytelling acumen. This country noir has its moments. (Feb.)
★ 2019-10-28
Hulse follows up her strong debut (Black River, 2015) with an even stronger novel about the fallout from an act of domestic terrorism.
When Josephine Faber learns that her brother, Samuel, has fled after bombing a Montana district courthouse, it caps the string of losses that have shaped her life. Her father was killed in a mine collapse when she was a baby, and an enraged ex-boyfriend shot and killed their mother when Jo was 10 and Samuel, 17; a stray bullet left Jo paralyzed. Samuel's terrible act—12 people at a nearby storefront church were injured, and the pastor's young daughter is in critical condition—was provoked by the impending loss of their house, about to be torn down by the state to build a new highway. Jo is horrified but not surprised; Samuel was a virulent racist in high school, and although he burned his Nazi flag and wears long-sleeved shirts over his swastika tattoo, she's aware that his anti-government ideas remain the same. But her brother has tenderly cared for her for more than a decade, and she can't stop loving him. The story unfolds slowly, mingling Jo's account with Samuel's explanatory missive to her (written on a map she will later find) and the anguished internal monologues of pastor Asa Truth, whose faith has been badly shaken by his daughter's injuries. He won't get any help from Jo, a confirmed nonbeliever since her mother's death, but they form a bond forged by mutual grief; Jo's connection to protective Sheriff Hawkins is another relationship Hulse limns with sensitive acuity. Several harrowing scenes underscore Jo's vulnerability due to her physical disability, but she still rides a cherished mule and tends to outdoor chores thanks to the various devices Samuel has rigged. Her struggles to paint pictures more meaningful than the pretty, sanitized canvases she sells to tourists form another strand of Hulse's dense yet lucid narrative. The nail-biting denouement is violent yet restrained, an additional sign of this young writer's mature artistic powers.
Reflective, evocative, and quietly moving.
