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Death and the Good Life was first accepted for publication in 1980, and has been out of print for a number of years. Recently the University of Idaho Press published it, making it once again available. 

Richard Hugo served in World War II as a bombardier, then returned to the University of Washington, and studied poetry under Theodore Roethke. He spent a number of years working as a technical writer at Boeing, and in 1964 went to the University of Montana in Missoula to teach, where he established a powerful reputation as a teacher and author of more than a dozen volumes of poetry. He died in 1982 of leukemia. 

I first read Hugo’s poetry in the early 1980's, and found his mystery a few years later. I have re-read his work often during subsequent years, and am impressed with Death and the Good Life not only as a mystery, but also for its place in regional literature, and the writing style of well-crafted prose interspersed with poetic language. Because it is strong in all these areas, I recommend it for both academic and public libraries, especially those in this region. 

The mystery opens quickly with the axe murder of a fisherman at peaceful Rainbow Lake in Montana. Al Barnes, with 17 years of experience on the Seattle Police Force (10 of them as a detective, mostly in homicide), is a deputy with the Sanders County Sheriff’s Department and investigates the case. The novel is written in the first person, from his point of view. Overnight a second murder occurs, with some similarities, but enough differences to suggest a second murderer. Barnes solves the first crime quickly, then he puzzles out the second. The novel is fast paced, suspenseful, includes interesting details, is intricately plotted, and has some fascinating characters. 

Westerners find landscape important, and it is strongly present in Hugo’s poetry and novels, developed almost like a character. Driving through Montana, Barnes mentions being “awed by the glimpse of some magnificent landscape.” Details throughout the mystery give the reader a glimpse of some Idaho, Montana, and Oregon landscapes, including Missoula, Dixon, Orofino, Kamiah, Portland, Seaside, and Cannon Beach. The narrator captures some unique perceptions of the west, like “When you see Dixon you feel as if, had you lived there all your life, you’d either be more interesting than you are or you’d drink more than you do, or both.” One of the characters takes a “tour drunk:” stopping at as many bars as he can driving away from Missoula, then stops for the night. The following morning he drives back, again stopping at the bars. 

Poetic skills transfer into fiction, and I found this book a delight of language with scattered phrases like “A freighter crawled the horizon” and “Evening was creeping up the lawn outside.” Describing his house, Barnes narrates, “I could see the canyon cut away and the pines and tamaracks growing straight up out the steeply slanted hill.” The pleasure of the novel’s language made me want to re-read Hugo’s poetry, plus some of the other great poetry of the west: Reg Saner, William Stafford, and John Haines. 

Finally, there are a few things that make this mystery as unusual as a poem. Three of the characters (all in law enforcement) are poets. Only in a Richard Hugo mystery would you find the line “I see you’re reading William Stafford.” At one place in the novel, a doped up teenager was having sex with a dead girl, thinking it might bring her back to life—and likening it to artificial respiration. Many places showed a dry sense of humor. 

Other mystery writers with a Northwest setting include Earl Emerson, Fredrick Huebner, and J A Jance. Public library reader’s advisors may not want to recommend this to patrons who avoid any mention of sex (even if tastefully done) or any violence (murder without many gory details). My only disappointment is that this book isn’t part of a series, with a dozen more Al Barnes books I can read.