The Smoke Jumper

Of interest because I’ve read at least two other books about smoke jumpers and in the wake of the deaths of the  elite squad of 19 in Arizona in 2013. Nicholas Evans is a British writer famous for The Horse Whisperer. Not as husky as the American Nicholas Sparks who churns out similar tomes. It’s a relief to read a romance novel that doesn’t have the picture of a scantily clad male model splattered across its cover and to have to read about how narrow his hips and waist or how broad his shoulders. These typical idealized male images are about as realistic as the proportions of a Barbie Doll. Male authors tend to have a more realistic approach to the male physique and tend on average to spend less time writing detailed descriptions. Not that anyone is going to mistake this for great literature, just a decent mindless summer’s read.

It takes 560 pages for the star-crossed lovers at the centre of this tale to attain sexual congress even though his donated seed had previously fathered her only child. If you possess a similar fortitude then this should be a worthwhile read. The story is about the journey, not the happily ever after and for once it’s a relief not to read page upon page of bedroom gymnastics. Fire-fighting is only a small segment of the entire tale.