This final volume in the New Mexico trilogy, like its predecessors, is a lusty, visionary novel that blends comedy and tragedy, reality and fantasy, tenderness and bite, to illuminate some very troubling truths about America—truths no less pointed and accurate today than they were twenty years ago.
John Nichols is the author of nine novels and six works of nonfiction. He lives in Northern New Mexico.
John Nichols's New Mexico Trilogy, inaugurated in 1974 with the publication of The Milagro Beanfield War, has grown from regional stature to national appeal; the three novels have evolved from literary radicals to cult classics. Beloved for his compassionate, richly comic vision, and widely admired for his insight into the cancer that accompanies unbridled progress, Nichols is the author of nine novels and six works of nonfiction. He lives in northern New Mexico.
The 1970s are over. All across America, the overgrown kids of the middle class are getting their acts together—and getting older. The once-tight Chicano community of Chamisaville has long been a thing of the past, and the Anglo power brokers control almost everything. Joe Miniver—faithful husband, loving father, and all-around good guy—is about to settle down. In order to produce the funds he'll need to buy some land, he dreams up a drug scam.
But Joe is also about to embark on a series of erotic adventures with three headstrong women, bringing him face-to-face with the terrors (and absurdity) of the modern man-woman scene. This final volume in the New Mexico Trilogy, like its predecessors, is a lusty, visionary novel that blends comedy and tragedy, reality and fantasy, and tenderness and bite to illuminate very troubling truths about America—truths no less pointed and accurate now than they were back then.
A work of genius . . . Hilarious.—Newsday
Transcendentally profound, also achingly funny . . . Like a wonderful poem, or a great restaurant.—Los Angeles Times Book Review
[This novel features] an epic scope, a wide-screen background, a large and varied cast of charming eccentrics and truly rotten villains.—The Washington Post