Raven Stole the Moon: A Novel

By Garth Stein

“Deeply moving, superbly crafted, and highly unconventional.” —Washington Times

Raven Stole the Moon is the stunning first novel from Garth Stein, author of the phenomenal New York Times bestseller The Art of Racing in the Rain.

A profoundly poignant and unforgettable story of a grieving mother’s return to a remote Alaskan town to make peace with the loss of her young son, Raven Stole the Moon combines intense emotion with Native American mysticism and a timeless and terrifying mystery, and earned raves for a young writer and his uniquely captivating imagination.

When Jenna Rosen abandons her comfortable Seattle life to visit Wrangell, Alaska, it’s a wrenching return to her past. The old home of her Native American grandmother, Wrangell is located near the Thunder Bay resort, where Jenna’s young son Bobby disappeared two years before. His body was never recovered, and Jenna is determined to lay to rest the aching mystery of his death.

But whispers of ancient legends begin to suggest a frightening new possibility about Bobby’s fate, and Jenna must sift through the beliefs of her ancestors, the Tlingit -- who still tell of powerful, menacing forces at work in the Alaskan wilderness. Jenna is desperate for answers, and she appeals to a Tlingit shaman to help her sort fact from myth, and face the unthinkable possibilities head-on. Armed with nothing but a mother’s ferocious protective instincts, Jenna’s quest for the truth about her son -- and the strength of her beliefs -- is about to pull her into a terrifying and life-changing abyss....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Feb 14, 2010
• ISBN: 9780061969515

Garth Stein

Garth Stein is the author of Enzo Races in the Rain!, based on the New York Times bestselling novel The Art of Racing in the Rain (and its tween adaptation, Racing in the Rain). His other works include A Sudden Light, How Evan Broke His Head and Other Secrets, Raven Stole the Moon, and a play, Brother Jones. He is the cofounder of Seattle7Writers.org, a nonprofit collective of sixty-two Northwest authors dedicated to fostering a passion for the written word. Garth lives in Seattle with his family and his dog, Comet.

Book preview

Chapter 1

SHE CLOSED HER EYES AND HELD HERSELF UNDER THE WATER. She exhaled, sending little bubbles to the surface. It felt good to expel the used air, but then came the pain of empty lungs. She opened her eyes and looked up. She thought about opening her mouth and taking a big breath of water. That would do it. Fill those lungs with something other than oxygen. But she didn’t. She lifted her head out of the water and took a breath of air instead.

Jenna didn’t have the willpower to drown herself. Who did? It’s physically impossible, someone told her. The survival instinct takes over. It won’t let you. It will let you shoot yourself in the head because it isn’t smart enough to realize that when you pull the trigger a bullet comes out. That’s all. If the survival instinct were smart, more people would be alive.

She stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in a thick towel. She secured her long, curly hair behind her head with an elastic hair band and began putting on her makeup, paying special attention to the pimple on her cheek. For Christ’s sake. Thirty-five and still getting zits. Her eyes went brown. Her lips, a rich, burnt color. Pencil outside the top lip to accentuate and enlarge. Bottom lip doesn’t need any help. Voluptuous lips. Give a pout, baby. Blot. Kiss, kiss.

Jenna hung up the towel and left the bathroom. The bedroom was empty, so she went into the den, turned the stereo on, and slipped Let It Bleed into the disc player. Number eight. She turned it up and began to dance.

She threw her hands over her head and spun around in a tight circle on her toes, dancing her way back into the bedroom. Robert, dressed in a black suit, a white shirt, and a bright-colored tie, sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled on his left sock, then his left shoe. Never both socks and then both shoes. Nice shoes, though. Always liked his shoes. He looked up at Jenna. She puffed out her lips, bent forward, and swung her arms around, then stepped out, kicking her leg high in the air in front of her with her toe pointed and the indent of her tensed calf muscle visible to all.

Very nice, Robert said, giving Jenna a perfunctory glance. Maybe you could put on some clothes.

Jenna continued dancing.

Come on, Jenna, Robert snapped, jerking on his right sock. We have to go. I don’t want to be late.

Jenna stopped dancing abruptly.

Why do you always have to stop me?

Why do you always start your naked sex dance when we have to leave in five minutes?

Jenna didn’t respond.

I mean, I’d love it if you danced around like that on a night when there was a possibility of us fooling around, Robert continued, pulling on his right shoe. He was on a roll now. But you never do that. You only act sexy when you know we’re not going to have sex. Why is that?

Robert looked up at Jenna, who stood motionless before him. He took her silence as his victory—silence equals consent—and moved to the bedroom door.

Please get ready, he said, softening his tone. It’s nine. Everyone will be gone when we get there. He turned and disappeared down the hall.

I was just trying to get in the mood for the stupid party, Jenna muttered, stomping across the room and into her closet. Fine. If Robert didn’t want her to act sexy, someone else would.

She took out her long black skirt and slipped it on. When she moved, you could see her thighs under the fabric. That was sexy. Maybe some nice young man would appreciate it, since Robert was only angered by it. She clipped on her bra, push up, but not too much, then her thong underwear, which always made her think of sex. Not that it would matter. There would be no sex tonight. Maybe she’d do it herself. Perhaps I’ll take a lover. Shall I take a lover? Jenna slipped on a sleeveless sweater that was cropped just above her belly button and jammed her feet into her big boots. Do my boobs stick out too much? She grabbed her motorcycle jacket off the chair next to the dresser and turned out the lights.

Jenna went into the kitchen, where she found Robert standing on a chair, digging through one of the cupboards.

I’m ready, she said, clearing her throat.

Okay. Just a minute.

Robert continued digging. He stepped up onto the counter and stuck his head in the cupboard above the highest shelf. He looked like a raccoon digging through a garbage can.

What are you looking for? Jenna asked.

The candles. Do you remember where we put them?

Candles are in the dining room. Why do you need a candle?

No, a yartzheit candle.

Oh, a yartzheit candle. A year’s time candle. Robert continued digging.

Found them.

He pulled his head and arm out of the cupboard, producing a brown paper bag. Jenna could hear the clinking of little glasses inside. Glasses filled with wax and wicks. A blue label with silver writing. Yartzheit Memorial Candle. Her father always lit one on the eve of the death of his father.

Robert looked down at Jenna and paused.

Is that what you’re wearing?

He got down off the counter. Jenna felt dazed. As she watched Robert, she could feel a thickening in her neck. Her feet were getting heavy. Robert took one of the candles out of the bag and placed it on a plate. He lit it with a wooden match from the Rain City Grill. Jenna watched silently.

When the candle was lit, Robert moved to Jenna’s side and took up her hand.

It’s the anniversary.

The anniversary.

The anniversary. The second anniversary. In the year of our Lord. Year two, A.D. After Death. The Lord, Jesus, will protect and shelter you from harm. Blessed be the fruit of thy womb.

Robert lights a candle on the anniversary.

You can drown in a mud puddle. Hit your head, drown in a puddle. Like Gram’s brother when he was little. Got hit on the head with a swing. An ocean. A river. A bathtub. But you can’t drown yourself. No way. It only comes to those who don’t want it. You can’t always get what you want. The tears filled her eyes, rolled down her cheeks. Hot tears. She stood, shaking, looking at nothing, tears rolling down her cheeks, hitting the floor. Robert watched her, not realizing what he had done. She cried black tears. Her lip quivered as she breathed. She looked so nice. So nice for a party on the anniversary. Little drops of hot black water on the floor. She couldn’t move. Her arms and legs were numb. Paralyzed. He looked at her. He cried out. He said, Mommy, Mommy. A gallon of water weighs eight pounds. A sweater filled with water weighs eight hundred pounds. Holds your arms down at your sides. Makes it so you can’t move. Survival instinct isn’t smart enough to beat a wet sweater and waffle stompers. Like a rock. Straight to the bottom. Little, less, nothing. No more to build on there. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Chapter 2

JOHN FERGUSON STOOD ON THE DOCK NEXT TO THE SEAPLANE and watched as the small figure in the Boston Whaler approached. The blue boat got closer and the sound of its big outboard engine tore into the peaceful Alaskan morning, forcing a cluster of geese to take to the air in retreat.

Fergie had to laugh to himself. He was paying some Indian specialist five grand to come and check the place out. At a community board meeting in the neighboring town of Klawock, people suggested that he call Dr. David Livingstone, because he’s the best around. Fergie jokingly said, I didn’t know witch doctors got to use the title ‘doctor,’ and he found that he had offended almost everyone in the room. Turns out the guy is a shaman and a Ph.D. Go figure.

The boat was within twenty yards now, and Fergie was surprised to see that Dr. Livingstone was a young, good-looking man, not the old, shriveled-up Indian in a canoe he had expected. He waved at the boat and received an acknowledging wave in return. The boat pulled up and the young man hopped out.

Ferguson? the young man asked, tying the boat to the dock.

Dr. Livingstone, I presume.

Fergie had been working on that line for about a week. He had been dying to say it, but he was desperately afraid it would offend. It didn’t seem to. Dr. Livingstone smiled.

David.

David reached into the boat and pulled out several old burlap bundles. He arranged them in a row on the dock. Fergie didn’t know if he should offer to help or if the bundles were Indian magic and he would taint them by touching them. He uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot, watching.

Well, what do you think? Do you have any first impressions? he asked hopefully. Any spirits of Tlingit past haunting the place? Fergie tried to pronounce the Indian name correctly, so as not to sound ill-informed. Klink-it. Having heard a real Indian pronounce it, he knew that it was actually supposed to sound more guttural, like a big bite being taken out of an apple.

David finished unloading his bundles and stood upright. He was not tall, about five six or so, with black hair that grew down to his waist and a soft-featured round face. His open brown eyes seemed to celebrate vision, and when he turned to Fergie, he appeared to draw closer.

How much do you know about the Tlingit, Ferguson?

Oh, I don’t know . . . Ferguson hedged. He had figured he would be in for a pop quiz, so he studied the entry in The Encyclopedia of the American Indian. I know that the Tlingit and the Haida were the two biggest tribes in this area. Their main economy was fishing and trapping. They traded with the Russians and the British. In the late 1800s the government outlawed native languages and potlatches, but that’s over now.

Well, that’s not exactly true, Livingstone corrected. You understand the spirit of the law but not the letter of it.

Ferguson’s sigh was a bit louder than he had intended. He closed his mouth and looked past Livingstone’s shoulder at the white-peaked blue mountains in the distance.

The government didn’t actually outlaw native languages and potlatches, David explained. "What they did was define civilized Indians as those who didn’t associate with any other Indians. Indians who did associate with other Indians were considered uncivilized and were sent to reservations or Indian schools. So the effect of the law, as you correctly deduced, was to eliminate native languages and potlatches. But that wasn’t the law itself."

Ferguson nodded slowly. He had just met Livingstone, but already he wasn’t sure he liked him. There was something appealing about him, but it was buried under a cockiness and arrogance that turned Ferguson off.

David knelt down and unrolled one of the bundles. Inside were strings of beads and animal claws.

Do you know anything about our beliefs? David asked. Our legends?

Ferguson decided to play it safe. No more stupid answers. Not another possibility for an embarrassing reply. Sometimes silence is your best defense. He shook his head.

I see. But you think this place is haunted by our ghosts?

Ferguson swallowed hard. Caught again. He wanted to tell David what he really thought, that this was all a big pain in his ass. That he was doing it because a group of Japanese investors were going to put up a lot of money, but they insisted that the resort be spiritually cleansed before the deal was finalized. But Fergie knew better than to say something like that. That would be too straightforward.

Look, Doctor, as much as I would have loved to study all about the Tlingit culture, my hands are real full trying to get this place up and running for some prospective investors in July. I apologize, but I haven’t had the time.

Don’t be defensive, Ferguson, it was a simple question. I wanted to know where we stood. Now I know. David’s innocent and sincere look made Fergie even more uncomfortable. He desperately wanted to fill the void between them, so he spoke.

The general partners have made a commitment to being as sensitive as possible to the history of the area and the culture of the Tlingit peoples, Ferguson said. We don’t want to move ahead and find out later on that we have a . . . uh, you know . . . a situation.

"A lawsuit-type situation or The Shining–type situation?"

Fergie squirmed. Damn, this guy really knew how to put a guy on the spot.

Uh, well, I would say, definitely, well, both.

David smiled at him with his big, warm eyes, and Fergie settled down. He hated talking with these people because he always managed to say something offensive. You can’t use your normal language with minorities. You start worrying about what words you can use, and then you sound uncomfortable, and then they take that as your being racist, and then it’s all messed up.

I tell you what, Ferguson, David offered. "You have your lawyers use their magic to take care of the lawsuit situations, and I’ll use my magic to take care of the ghost situations. How’s that sound?"

Ferguson exhaled deeply and grinned. Sounds good to me, Doctor. After all, you’re the doctor.

David unrolled another bundle. Ferguson could see a part of a deer antler.

What exactly are you going to do to take care of the ghost situations? Out of curiosity.

David looked up. I’m going to dress up in feathers, shake a rattle, and throw some magic dust around. I’m an Indian, what do you think I’m going to do?

David laughed. And Ferguson, surprised but pleased, laughed, too.

Chapter 3

JENNA HAD CHANGED INTO A SIMPLE BLACK SUIT. SHE HAD cleaned her face of makeup streaks, changed her clothes, and pushed the past back down where it belonged. Way down. Into the darkest part of her soul. A place where she never looked and nobody ever knew. Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies.

She stood on the terrace of the apartment across from the Public Market and looked down on the empty street below. Behind her, boys in white jackets served food on silver trays. Nice pad. Lots of cash. There were only six apartments in the building. Each one had great views of the water and huge terraces. Robert was not in this league. He was in a league, but not this one. The place belonged to Ted and Jessica Landis, real estate brokers to the gods. They had two sons, both out of college, one in grad school and the other in the business. Michael. Probably called him Mikey when he was little.

It was a cool evening in July and a breeze blew off the water. That’s the thing about Seattle in the summer; there’s no humidity and it cools off nicely. The summers are beautiful, but the winters are bad because of the rain. But at least there isn’t a ton of snow like in Cleveland.

Jenna watched the ferries chug across the water against the backdrop of shimmering lights on Alki Point. She sipped her wine and stood at the edge of the terrace. There were some other people outside, but she didn’t want to talk. The Jefferies. They have two girls. The Thompsons. She just had a boy and needs to work out. Why can’t we all be like Demi Moore? Pop those suckers out on the StairMaster.

Jenna!

A loud voice cut through. It was Christine Davies. Mercer Island. Summer house on Hood Canal. A son the same age as Bobby would have been. David Davies. What a clever little name. Did he think of it himself? He’s so clever. Is he in college yet? I hear he’s the smartest alien child ever born of a humanoid. Have another drink, you don’t look like you’ve had enough.

Jenna, I love your suit. Do you buy all your clothes out of town? I go to Barney’s and I never see things like that. It’s gorgeous! You’re looking wonderful. I wish I had your hips. Have you lost weight?

Hello, Christine. Jenna squeezed out a polite smile. Thank you. No. How’s little David?

"Oh, would you like to buy some Campfire Girl mints? David is selling them. I know, he’s not a Campfire Girl. Our oldest, Elizabeth, is selling the mints for her troop. If she sells a hundred boxes, she gets a gift certificate at Nordstrom’s. She loves clothes, but she hates to sell anything. So she and David have a little deal. David sells the mints and Elizabeth will split the prize with him. He only needs to sell twenty more boxes. He’s a wonderful salesman. Peter knows he’ll be a broker one day. The little round mints. Only four dollars a box. It’s for a good cause."

What’s the cause?

Hmm?

The good cause. What’s the cause?

Oh, I don’t know, Christine said, surprised at the question. The disabled, I think. The mentally disabled. Does it matter what the cause is as long as it’s good?

Christine spit out a hacking laugh. Heck, heck, heck. Cough-laughing. A Scandinavian tradition. Jenna tried to twist her grimace into a smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked.

Sure, Christine, I’ll take five.

Five? Well. What’s your secret, Jenna? You look so thin.

I’m on a strict diet of water and Campfire Girl mints.

Heck, heck, heck.

Christine became serious. She put her hand on Jenna’s arm, a serious gesture. She swayed slightly in the breeze.

"Seriously, Jenna. How are you?"

I’m fine.

"Yes, but how are you? It must be so hard for you this time of year."

Jenna looked into Christine’s drunken eyes. They seemed to focus independently, like a fish. There was a white foam spot on the corner of her mouth. Her teeth were stained. Her breath smelled like a smoked salmon omelet.

"It must be so hard for you."

Jenna imagined that the inside of Christine’s head was a giant clam. It was a pulsating sack that sucked water in and spit it out to propel itself. Her head sat on the ocean floor. A bivalve mollusk. It sucked in through one ear and spit out through the other, each time the head skimming a few inches above the sand and settling back down.

Times like these I’m grateful I have Robert.

A starfish jumped her head. It pried her skull open and sucked the juicy mussel out. One valve, then the other. Sucked and slurped her gooey brain right out of her ear.

Oh, I know. Without family, where would any of us be?

Excuse me, Christine, there’s Robert. Don’t let me leave without those mints.

Kiss, kiss.

Jenna almost gagged as she caught a whiff of Christine’s breath. Hangtown fry. Oysters and scrambled eggs. Bivalves and embryo.

Robert was entertaining a group of brokers near the bar as Jenna approached. Those brokers sure can drink. I guess when you’re always worried about losing your job, it makes you tense. How’s the market? Not a penny less than twenty-four dollars a square foot.

She looked on as Robert told an animated story to three other men. They were all in their early thirties. Some more successful than others, of course. All of them former college athletes. That goes over big in the world of real estate. They can all pee together and say things like, "When I played for the Huskies, you know, back when we used to go to the Rose Bowl, we used to get wasted and pick up hookers down on Western. Look, you can see it from here. Man. If we had bought then . . ."

Robert was the most successful. He drove the nicest car. He lived in the nicest house. He had the best, smartest, most beautiful wife. And until two years ago, he had the best, smartest, most handsome son. But that’s all over now, isn’t it? How long does it take to get over something like that? Forever. You don’t get over it. A child is a creation. It is your blood in another. It is your life. The worst thing that can happen is that you lose your child.

Robert spotted Jenna and called out to her as the three drunken brokers eyed her up.

Jenna, honey, come over here. I was telling them about when we went back to Cleveland. Remember how angry you were when there was no Christmas tree?

I wasn’t mad. I was disappointed.

The three laughed.

You were pissed. She was so pissed. She broke a branch off a tree in the yard and put it in our room. Our own little Christmas tree!

The three laughed more. Three non-Jews. Why does Robert play the Jew? Does he think it gives him a psychological advantage? He’s probably right.

Jenna’s got it made! She’s Jewish, American Indian, and Christian. Think of the holidays! She could take half the year off with religious holidays! Laugh, laugh. We’re having a potlatch next week. Everyone in the village is invited!

Their heads almost exploded with laughter. Their faces were covered with huge pores oozing out some foul combination of sweat and oil. These guys are not going to age gracefully. Jenna studied the tumbler full of scotch and ice in Robert’s hand.

I guess I’m the designated driver tonight, Robert?

He stopped laughing. The three friends got that goofy look on their faces when someone gets in trouble. They put their hands to their mouths to keep from laughing. Robert wheeled on Jenna and glared at her.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Nothing. I won’t have another glass.

I was telling a story—

Keep going, it was funny.

—and you cut me off. Where’s your sense of humor?

I just wanted to know if I could have another glass of wine.

Bullshit. You never have a second glass of wine. You cut me off and you know it.

Robert.

Admit it.

She looked at him incredulously. The three friends had slipped away. Now it was just Robert and Jenna in the middle of the room, attracting the attention of others. Heads turned. Everyone could see that he was disciplining her for her bad behavior.

Robert, stop it, Jenna said under her breath. Don’t do this to me in public.

Robert grabbed Jenna’s arm and led her to the side of the room. He knocked on a door and opened it. It was a bathroom. He pulled her inside.

Why did you do that to me?

Do what? Robert, I didn’t do anything.

You humiliated me in front of my colleagues.

You didn’t need any help from me, Jenna said. She sat on the closed toilet seat and crossed her legs, trying to appear calmer than she was.

Don’t be a bitch, he said sharply. Jenna winced. She hated that word and he knew it. If you didn’t think you could make it through the party, you should have stayed at home.

Jenna looked up quickly.

What’s that supposed to mean? Why wouldn’t I be able to make it through the party?

Well, you’re obviously still upset about my lighting a candle for Bobby and you’re taking it out on me. Which is completely typical.

Typical?

"Yeah, typical. You typically can’t get over your guilt and I typically can. Look, it’s not my fault if you still feel guilty about him. It’s not my fault if I’ve processed it and I can act like a normal human being. I light a candle. I like to do it—it helps me. If you can’t stand it, well, that’s too bad."

Jenna bit her lip to keep from lashing out. She wasn’t going to let a scotch-soaked Robert suck her into a fight that neither of them would win. A slug-fest in the Landis powder room. Blood on the floor. She stood up and opened the door.

You should have another drink, Robert. It really makes me attracted to you.

She looked up at Robert, who was glaring at her with hard eyes. There was hatred in that look, nothing less. Deep down and unmistakable. She stepped out into the party and closed the door behind her.

Jenna headed straight for the terrace. She needed some fresh air to clear her head. All that oppressiveness in the bathroom was making her dizzy. Once outside, she took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to get upset. She wasn’t going to let Robert do it to her twice in one night. No way. She walked along the edge of the railing. Everything’s fine. Keep moving. Shake it off. He’s drunk. He’s the one with the problem. He’s the bad guy.

After a couple of minutes Jenna felt back in control, her emotions recontained in her Tupperware mind. She went inside and got a glass of Perrier at the bar. She didn’t want another glass of wine anyway. Robert was right about that. She had only wanted to stop him and his idiotic story. The alcohol was making Robert talk a little too loud and laugh a little too hard, and that always embarrassed Jenna. Not to mention the fact that he would get so drunk at a party of such prominence. This was a working party. Deals were being made. Relationships nurtured. Standing around with drunken underachievers made Robert look like another one of the losers.

Usually, Robert stood out from the pack. He was well put together, as Jenna’s father would say. He’s got a good presentation. Yessir. Doesn’t drink too much. Doesn’t talk too much. Doesn’t think too much. Gets the job done and gets it done right. A nice Jewish boy.

Dad was Jewish. Even though he disavowed himself of all outward Jewish trappings, he was a Jew deep down and Jenna knew it. He was happy that Jenna found Robert. He didn’t have some romanticized idea that they would raise their kids Jewish, but he felt, in his soul, that another Jew would be born to the world.

Dad, too, was surprised to hear that Robert’s family didn’t have a Christmas tree. Christmas isn’t religious, it’s American. What American won’t celebrate Christmas? The best way to avoid religious persecution is to avoid being too religious. That’s what he said. He didn’t even mind when they chose to name their son after his father. That’s all superstition, her father beamed. Robert is a fine name.

Jenna snapped out of her reverie and found herself standing in a quiet hallway that seemed to lead to the bedrooms. She looked around. It was obviously the Hall of Records. The walls were covered with photographs of the Landis family. Hundreds of photographs, starting with old black-and-whites of the grandparents and progressing up through new portraits of tiny babies. Jenna scanned the walls quickly. High school proms. Weddings. Christmas shots with Santa. Vacations. She lingered on a shot of Ted Landis and one of his sons when he was younger, about Bobby’s age, it seemed. They were standing on a dock. A lake glimmered in the background with afternoon sun. The boy held a fish proudly. Jenna stood before the photo, unable to tear herself away. It was such a simple photo. Such a simple event. A boy, his father, and a fish. It’s universal. Every family has a photo like this. Every father has taken his son fishing. But they don’t all go fishing in Alaska. They don’t all go to Thunder Bay. The son doesn’t always drown.

Jenna.

Jenna looked up. It was Christine. Mints.

Jenna. We’re leaving.

Christine grabbed Jenna’s arm and led her into a bedroom.

Is Robert drunk?

I think, probably.

"Because he was talking about . . . Bobby. You know. What happened. "

Jesus, it doesn’t stop. Jenna closed her eyes and exhaled.

It’s our anniversary, she said.

Really? I thought you were married in the winter.

No. The anniversary of Bobby’s death.

Christine froze in the dark bedroom. Outside the window, the lights from downtown sparkled in the distance. An orange streetlight cast an eerie glow on Christine’s face. She looked at Jenna with compassion. Compassion never before imaginable from this woman. True pity. Sincere.

Oh, Jenna, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.

She wrapped Jenna in an embrace. Jenna’s head fell against Christine’s shoulder and Jenna gave in to this woman with the clam head. Jenna began to cry. Deeply. Sobbing. Gasping for breath. Oh, the horror. The inequity. The smell of perfume and body odor. The rough hands of Christine stroking your hair. The floodgates opened and out came a flood.

It must have been minutes. Jenna heard other people in the room. Someone coming and going. Christine waving someone away. Telling them, shush up. Go away. Stroking. Because it really is painful. It really is. It’s a wound like any other. A broken arm gets a cast. A cut gets some stitches. A soul gets tears.

Jenna sat up on the bed. Christine was still there, looking at her. She glanced at her watch. To be forgiven. How can a clam not look at her watch? It was nice of her to stay this long.

Are you going to be all right? We have to get back to the Island.

Jenna sniffed. Wiped her nose.

I’m sorry, Christine. You were right. It is hard this time of year.

Oh, Jenna. But Peter wants to go. I should go. Are you going to be all right? I could take a cab. I could stay with you. Maybe I should stay.

No, no. I’m fine, really. You’ve been too kind. I’m so embarrassed. I really am. The mints. Don’t leave without my getting the mints.

Jenna staggered to her feet. She felt around for her purse and looked inside. Her wallet had no cash. There was another wallet. It was Robert’s. He never likes to carry his wallet because it bulges his suit. She pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

Give me five boxes.

Christine looked at Jenna and smiled.

That really is generous of you, Jenna. You are a very good soul, really.

Christine counted five boxes of mints out of a larger cardboard box. She took the money, kissed Jenna’s cheek, and left.

Jenna sat in the room. She put the wallet back in her purse. There were keys in the purse, too. Car keys. A moment’s hesitation. She looked in the wallet and saw the parking stub for the garage. She stood up and left the bedroom.

The party was still going full bore, even though it was approaching midnight. Jenna paused for a moment, with her makeup-smeared face and her red eyes, clutching five boxes of Campfire Girl mints to her breast. Robert was still talking to colleagues. Still drinking. Jenna breathed deeply. A good-bye breath.

And like that, Jenna left.

Chapter 4

DR. DAVID LIVINGSTONE LOOKED MORE LIKE A CRAZY MAN than a shaman. He stood on the dock, his hair tied tightly in a ponytail that sprouted from the top of his head, his eyes closed, his palms outstretched in a kind of prayer. He was wearing nothing but paisley boxer shorts and running shoes. Around his neck hung a small chamois bundle on a braided leather rope. Before him lay his shaman garb, spread out on the unrolled pieces of burlap that had held it. Ferguson shivered for David; it wasn’t exactly warm out. But David didn’t seem to notice the temperature. His lips moved as he spoke silent words to himself, and after a few minutes of standing in this fashion, David opened his eyes and looked down at his costume.

You from up here, Ferguson? he asked, bending down and picking up a deerskin skirt fringed with ivory beads.

Ferguson nodded. Wrangell.

David tied the skirt around his waist and then pulled a kind of poncho, also of deerskin, over his head. Both the skirt and the poncho were decorated with figures painted in red and black.

Can I ask you a question? Ferguson asked.

Sure.

Do you do this a lot? You know, work for companies like this.

David chuckled softly. A fair amount, I guess. I don’t usually exorcise spirits, though.

Really? What do you usually do?

Mostly I work for fishing companies. I predict where the fish will be that season. Or I’ll bless a fleet of boats. One time I was hired by a logging company to apologize to the spirits for them because they had killed hundreds of owls while they were clear-cutting.

Damn.

Yeah. What’s sad is that they were just doing it as a public relations move. They didn’t care what I did. I could have recited ‘Mary had a Little Lamb’ in Tlingit and it wouldn’t have made a difference to them.

Ah, Ferguson murmured, shaking his head solemnly.

Just wondering, he continued. He had to ask. "Did you recite ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in Tlingit?"

David smiled.

It doesn’t translate. They don’t have lambs in Alaska so there’s no word for them. But you know what I mean.

Oh, sure, I know what you mean.

Ferguson knew. He knew that David meant that there is often a discrepancy between what is contracted and what is expected. But David hadn’t answered the real question: Which had he delivered? It was an important distinction to Ferguson. For, even though Ferguson may not have believed all the Indian stuff, his investors did, and Ferguson had an obligation to come through with what they asked for. They weren’t paying five thousand dollars for some nursery-rhyme mumbo jumbo.

David tied a necklace of bear claws around his neck. He placed a strange kind of crown on his head, made from goat horns held together by leather straps.

What do you know about the history of this town, Ferguson?

At last, Ferguson thought, a question about the town. Those he could handle.

It was an old fishing village settled by the Russians. Mikoff Bay, it was called. Back around the turn of the century it was a bustling town with a cannery, a good deep bay but also very protected, which was good for boats. They could ride out storms here. But then the Depression hit, and then the War. They scrapped the cannery machinery to build bombs, and that was the end of the town.

Very good.

And now, this group I work for is turning it into a big, lavish fishing resort. And for good luck, they’re changing the name. They’re calling it ‘Thunder Bay.’

Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think? But, Ferguson, you’ve forgotten one thing. Perhaps the most important thing of all.

What’s that?

The Russians, the British, the Americans—none of them settled anything that wasn’t already settled.

David looked seriously at Fergie, who nodded slowly.

This bay was first settled by the Tlingit. The Russians usually built their forts next to Tlingit villages because it made trade easier.

I see.

Then, of course, disease being what it is, most of the Indians died, leaving only the so-called settlers.

Right.

Which is why, I’m sure, your investors are afraid that the soul of some dead Indian is going to rise up and murder their guests.

I’m sure.

So, he said, breathing deeply, let’s get to work.

He reached down and picked up the last item on the burlap. It was an intriguing rattle, fashioned from the skull of a small mammal that was suspended by a leather thong between two points of a deer antler. The whole contraption looked like a slingshot, with beaded leather straps hanging from the skull to form the actual rattling mechanism. Giving the rattle a shake, David turned toward the town and led the way up the dock.

The town was built on the side of a mountain that rose directly out of the water. As a result, the streets were stepped back and buildings seemed to rest on top of each other. At the base of the town was a vast, wooden boardwalk that stretched the length of the shore. Jutting out from the boardwalk were numerous docks; the seaplane and boat were secured to the longest.

Even in its heyday the town wasn’t very big, so it made the perfect conversion into a resort. The cannery, the largest building in the town, was gutted and turned into a community house, with a cafeteria and common area. The old General Store sold fishing gear and souvenirs. The houses were converted into guest cabins. And even though construction crews had been working nearly round the clock for several months, nobody had actually lived in the town since 1948.

Fergie caught up to David and gestured to the view of the waterfront.

Beautiful town, though. Got a lot of charm.

Sure.

Fergie couldn’t tell what David thought of the whole resort idea. He had the feeling that he disapproved. He sensed that David was only in this for the money. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. That’s all everyone else was in it for.

What do you know about Raven, Ferguson?

Fergie shook his head. Nothing.

Raven is the patron saint of the Tlingit. He’s responsible for bringing the sun and the moon and water and almost everything else, to the earth. Do you want to know about this stuff?

Sure. I’d love to hear about it.

Raven was born out of anguish. But I have to go back a step to tell it properly . . .

IN THE BEGINNING, there was a mighty chief who was very strong and proud and well respected by all the people of his clan. He had a beautiful wife whom he loved very much, but he was a jealous man and didn’t trust his wife to be faithful to him. He was constantly afraid that one of the strong young men of the village would seduce her and steal her from him. To protect against this, when the chief went away to hunt seal, he locked his wife in a box and hung the box from the rafters of his house so nobody could reach her.

One day, the chief caught his wife and one of his nephews exchanging glances. The chief became enraged and immediately took a knife with sawlike teeth and cut off his nephew’s head. Not satisfied that he was safe from betrayal, the chief killed the rest of his nephews as well.

When the chief’s sister found out that the chief had murdered all ten of her sons, she was stricken with grief. Her husband had died the previous year while hunting, and now she had no family to take care of her in her old age. The chief’s sister was so devastated that she went into the woods to kill herself.

As she walked through the woods, looking for a place to take her own life, she ran across a kind old man. The old man asked her why she was so distraught. She told him her story.

The old man nodded as the chief’s sister told him of her brother’s treachery and cruelty. It was not right, he agreed. The chief had shown no respect for life.

Go to the beach at low tide and find a round pebble, the old man told the woman. Heat this pebble in a fire until it is very hot, and then swallow it. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.

The sister did what the old man said, and after she had swallowed the pebble, she became pregnant. She built a shelter in the woods by the beach and lived there. In time, she gave birth to a son who grew into a beautiful child. This was Raven.

FERGUSON AND THE DOCTOR reached the community house and went inside. Fergie hoped David would be impressed. The community house was a huge room with a thirty-foot soaring loft ceiling. The interior had been completely refinished with Douglas fir, giving off a rich, warm color and a delicious scent. In the middle of the room was a huge,

Reviews for Raven Stole the Moon

[nancynova · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Intriguing. Jenna, two years after her son's drowning, returns to Alaska not sure what she's seeking. She returns to her grandmother's house & interacts with the Tlingit, sifting through the beliefs of her ancestors, including the kushtaka - the shape shifting otter. I particularly liked the belief that nothing is good vs evil...it just is

[poetreegirl · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A grieving mother returns to the place where she lost her son looking for closure. Filled with the Haida folklore of the kushtaka, creating a mystical setting.

[keneumey · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Garth Stein published Raven Stole the Moon more than a decade before The Art of Racing in the Rain became a New York Times Bestseller. The jacket summary intrigued me: a Seattle woman grieving the loss of her five-year-old son returns to her ancestral hometown in Alaska where she is confronted by Tlingit spirits.

I wanted to enjoy Raven Stole the Moon more than I did. I found that I could not relate to main character Jenna as much as I related to the dog narrator of The Art of Racing in the Rain. I suspect this is due to a combination of Stein’s inexperience as novelist at the time and the fact that he’s a man. Sometimes male writers have trouble realistically creating female characters (and vice versa, I’m sure.) In some ways, the plot was predictable and both Jenna and her husband’s choices irritated me. The supernatural aspects to the story didn’t quite work for me either.

[lauralmoe · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

This is an early book of Stein's (1998) that was re released after the phenomenal success of The Art of Racing in the Rain (2008). I loved racing, but this book is disjointed, unfocused, and just awful. It started out okay, but quickly got murky. This attests how ten years makes a big difference in a writer's skill.

[cecily2_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Mostly I loved this. I found the scenes in the first half from Jenna's point of view to be super intriguing - it was the kind of thing I could happily read a few hundred pages of without even thinking of setting it down, and that doesn't happen very often.

The second half was slightly less interesting (though still very good), perhaps because the foreshadowing in the first bit was so well done that it would have been hard to live up to my expectations. And the last 50 pages in particular could have been improved, I think - it's based on Native American/First Nations folklore, so you'd have to work within that, but I think even a few slight tweaks could have made me like it more.

[pjswanwick · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Garth Stein, best-selling author of "The Art of Racing in the Rain," explores the spiritual traditions of his Tlingit heritage in this story of grief, redemption, and mystery. Stein's clean, crisp language, strong characterization, and mystical plot make Raven Stole the Moon both enjoyable and inspirational.Story: When Jenna Rosen abandons her comfortable Seattle life to return to Wrangell, Alaska, it's a wrenching return to her past. Long ago the home of her Native American grandmother, Wrangell is located near the Thunder Bay resort, where Jenna's young son, Bobby, disappeared two years before. His body was never recovered, and Jenna is determined to lay to rest the aching mystery of his death. But the spectacular town provides little comfort beyond the steady and tender affections of Eddie, a local fisherman. And then whispers of ancient legends begin to suggest a frightening new possibility about Bobby's fate. Soon, Jenna must sift through the beliefs of her ancestors, the Tlingit - who still tell of powerful, menacing forces at work in the Alaskan wilderness. (From goodreads.com)Spiritual/metaphysical content: Medium. The story walks us through part of the Tlingit creation myth, including a mystical "between lives" state where a dead person's soul can be trapped instead of entering the afterlife, and the kushtaka, physical beings who rule that state. Jenna must work with a shaman and spirit animals to release her son's soul. Interesting exploration of native american spirituality, which parallels some Eastern beliefs. Treat the whole, not the parts. No such thing as good or evil. With practice, people can see beyond the physical world and glimpse the world of spirit: "Things exist and that is all. Nothing is surprising; nothing is startling. It is no more unusual for a bear to talk to a shaman than a twig to fall from a tree. . . . It is simply nature revealing a different side of itself to a shaman."Jenna grapples with the big issues that shape our personal philosophies, such as faith and belief: "Did Moses part the Red Sea? Did Christ heal the inform? Is there room for more than one religion, or is it all the same and people just interepret it differently? What makes is reasonable to believe that otter creatures steal souls? Is it the possibibility of salvation? If so, whose?My take: Wonderful language, moving metaphors. Stein uses spare, direct prose to tell the story with great skill, occasionally using moving metaphors and parables to help the reader envision the incomprehensible. Some readers may find the story too abstract, since Jenna's actions are driven by her need to find closure by choosing to believe that otter-like spirit creatures can steal a person's soul. The story blends the line between myth and reality. However, I felt that plot line added a fascinating spiritual depth to the story and I came to a better appreciation of Tlingit spiritual traditions. I was not necessarily persuaded to "willingly suspend disbelief," but I found the story engaging and meaningful.I was struck by the common threads that are woven through so many world myths and religions. A few examples used in this book include the Great Flood; a River of Tears that separates the land of the living and the Land of Dead Souls; a mystical equivalent to Purgatory; a spirit guide to help the soul find the path to the other side, where family and friends await.The story was a little less compelling than Stein's later work, The Art of Racing in the Rain, but the clean, crisp language and strong characterization make Raven Stole the Moon both enjoyable and inspirational.For more reviews of new age novels, see Fiction For A New Age.

[cmwilson101 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Raven Stole the Moon by Garth Stein is a book which is hard to categorize. It is one part spiritual journey, one part horror, one part chick lit (dealing with grief & death & love & marriage), and one part Indian folklore. The story revolves around Jenna, a woman who cannot come to terms with her son's death by drowning. One the second anniversary of his death, she leaves her husband at a dinner party and travels back to the remote Alaskan Indian settlement where her son drowned. Once she is back in Alaska, strange things happen to her. She gets caught up in a spiritual world and is unsure of whether it is real or imagined. Mr Stein does a beautiful job of showing the world from Jenna's eyes, where the line between reality and fantasy is blurred and unclear. Interesting and thought-provoking.

[james0802_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Read this after enjoying Racing in the Rain so much. Although not as original as RITR, I thought this was also a great read. (The author wrote this over 10 years prior to RITR, but then took the unusual step of revising it after RITR's success. I appreciated his postscript describing what he changed, and why.)

[lisalynne_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

In Raven Stole the Moon, Jenna Rosen walks away from a life that is fractured. Two years ago, her young son drowned in a tragic accident at a resort in Alaska. Her husband seems to have moved on, but Jenna cannot let go of her grief. On the anniversary of their son’s death, they attend a party that turns out to be Jenna’s breaking point. She walks away from the party, gets in her husband’s car and drives…straight through to Bellingham, Washington. She gets on the ferry and heads to her home town of Wrangell, Alaska — and straight into a mystery.Jenna and her husband, Robert, had a romantic courtship and a happy marriage, but all that changed when Robert got involved in an investment group that was building a resort in Alaska. While visiting the resort, their son, Bobby, dies and nothing is ever going to be the same. There are issues of blame, issues of money, and very different ways of dealing with grief. Robert shoves everything deep down inside and buries himself in his work, while his wife finds a therapist with a handy prescription pad. They don’t realize how far apart they’ve grown, until they find themselves truly far apart.Jenna receives a strange gift on the ferry and meets an old Tlingit woman who tells her a story about the kushtaka, a shape-shifting spirit who usually appears as an otter. According to legend, they save endangered swimmers from drowning; you can see why the story appealed to her. She will have to come to terms with her son’s loss in a very dramatic way, and at the same time, decide if she and Robert can save their marriage.Author Garth Stein takes the fractured family story and stirs things up. He adds a healthy dose of mysticism; Alaska is full of legends and stories from a variety of native peoples. When I visited there several years ago, every store, every restaurant, every person I met had a story to tell. Many of the people I met believed in the traditional legends and stories — and not just the elderly or people living on the fringes. It is a community that seems both modern and ancient and I can easily imagine the way these myths might act on a distraught woman. While the legends come to life for Jenna in a very real way, the novel is not all ghost story — Robert and Jenna live in the modern world and they have modern problems to deal with.Read my full review here.

[jenners26 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Story OverviewOn the surface, Jenna Rosen has it all: a husband who loves her, a comfortable life in Seattle, and good looks. But Jenna is troubled; it shows in her excessive drinking, Valium addiction, depression and the increasing discord in her marriage. But her problems can all be traced back to the loss of her son Bobby, who drowned during a family vacation in Alaska two years ago. Jenna blames herself for Bobby's death and cannot get past it. Yet her husband Robert seems to have been able to put the past to rest. One night at a party, Jenna gets in Robert's car and keeps on driving. Her trip leads her to Bellingham, WA, where she impulsively boards the ferry that will take her to Wrangell, Alaska—a small town where her Native American grandmother lived and close to the Thunder Bay Resort where Bobby died.Once in Wrangell, things happen that lead her to believe that something is calling her to discover the truth about Bobby's death. Her grandmother's Tlingit ancestry begins to manifest itself in strange and frightening ways. As Jenna begins to explore the Tlingit legends of the kushtaka, she begins to believe that Bobby's death was no accident. Determined to find the truth, Jenna embarks on a quest to discover what really happened at Thunder Bay. The result is a terrifying but liberating journey into the heart of the Alaska wilderness and the ancient legends of the Tlingits.My ThoughtsContrary to what you might think, this isn't a new book by Garth Stein, author of the best-selling Art of Racing in the Rain (which is on my TBR list for later this year). Rather, this is a rerelease of his first novel, which was published in 1998. (Note to authors: If your first book is not very successful, keep on trying. You may score later on and then get a rerelease for your earlier books!) Raven Stole the Moon has been out of print for several years, but is being rereleased on March 9. Remember how I told you I was reading a mystery book that I couldn't talk about? This was it!Anyway, on to my thoughts about the book. I have mixed feelings about this book. On the one hand, I enjoy stories of ancient legends coming to life in our modern world, and I thought the sections dealing with the kushtaka were disturbing and frightening at times. (Let me tell you, after reading this book, I won't look at otters quite the same way again!) On the other hand, I had some issues with the tone and writing in the book. In many ways, the book is told in a very plain, straightforward way: She did this. Then she did that. He reacted this way. Then the author mixes in some stream-of-consciousness stuff that I found a bit jarring. Here is a small example: She got off the freeway in Bellingham feeling tired and hungry. She pulled into a gas station to get some fuel for the Machine, and she picked up some Corn Nuts and a Coke—fuel for herself. The trip suddenly had the feeling of an all-night drive. Standing under a canopy of fluorescent bulbs. Artificial sunlight. Electrified reality. Everyone would be asleep if they weren't plugged in.My other quibble was that I thought the emotional lives of characters could have been better developed. We know Jenna is devastated by the loss of her son because the author tells us, but I never really felt it from Jenna herself. For me, this kept the book from being more than a competently told story with some supernatural elements. I think with a little more work and polishing, this book could have been something special. However, in the end, I think it falls shy of the mark.My Final RecommendationIf you enjoy books with supernatural elements related to Native American culture, this would be a good read for you. The Tlingit legends and story line were the most compelling part of the story for me, and the descriptions of the kushtaka were interesting and a bit frightening. Although the writing is competent and the story moves along quickly, I didn't think it was unforgettable or out of the ordinary. For this reason, I'm giving it 3 stars.

[yourotherleft_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Raven Stole the Moon is author Garth Stein's debut novel, which has since been followed by The Art of Racing in the Rain. Given the latter novel's recent impressive success, Raven Stole the Moon has been nicely repackaged and released anew by Harper. I haven't read The Art of Racing in the Rain, unfortunately, so I can't very well compare the two, but Raven Stole the Moon stands perfectly well on its own two feet (or its own 400 some pages, I should say).The central character in Stein's new (old?) novel, is Jenna Rosen. The opening chapter of the book finds Jenna leaving a cocktail party on the second anniversary of her son's accidental death. Without planning to, Jenna finds herself driving away from her husband and their marriage and embarking on a journey to find out the truth about what really happened the couple's son, Bobby, at a would-have-been Alaskan resort. Taking refuge in her grandmother's hometown of Wrangell, Alaska, Jenna begins search for answers that proves to be none too simple as she encounters temptation in the form of an injured fisherman and as she plumbs the depths of Tlingit mythology only to find that nothing is as it seems. I hate to say too much more lest I spoil a single thing about Raven Stole the Moon, a novel with the plot of a good thiller or even horror novel that doesn't sacrifice characters or themes to suspense. The book is very well-paced, and the mystery keeps the pages turning. Where Stein really succeeds, though, is in elevating Raven Stole the Moon over some of its horror genre counterparts by giving us a set of really well-developed multi-dimensional characters as well as exploring the deeper issues that face those characters. It would be easy to make Jenna and her husband Robert unequivocally bad. Jenna is obviously selfish in her quest to find answers, using whoever she needs to get what she wants, plowing over the lives and needs of those around her as she pursues her goal. It's easy to hate Robert who hires a private investigator to find out what Jenna's up to and considers drugs and hookers as revenge against his wandering wife. Then, however, Stein brings out the death of the couple's son and the decimation it has wreaked upon both of them as individuals and as a couple, explores the road the two have taken to get where they are, the struggles and the misunderstandings, and ultimately the love they had, and might still have even in the aftermath of a tragedy that threatens their marriage. Suddenly, instead of seeing two rotten people made more rotten by the death of their son, we see two struggling characters who ultimately deserve our sympathy. Like the Tlingit patron saint Raven, these characters are neither good nor bad, they just are. Raven Stole the Moon is a richly atmospheric and completely absorbing story that takes Tlingit myth and legend, mixes in a heartbreaking tragedy, and ends up with a satisfying blend of thriller and love story that will keep you turning pages until the very last question is answered.

[fredamans · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I knew this book was a hit for me, when I fought with myself over whether to go to sleep or read one more chapter. In the end, I finished this story in 2 days.From the moment I started reading, I was pulled in. Gradually the book built up, and in a way that half the book was done before I noticed.I really loved how the author formed the characters in the story. Each one highlighted in a way, that wasn't too descriptive yet gave you everything you needed.Beautifully written, and truly an amazing story.I am recommending this book to everyone. Please note there is some foul language in it, but so worth reading it to get the tale.

[bookwormygirl · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Two years ago, Jenna Rosen’s son, Bobby, drowned while on vacation in Alaska. To her dismay, his body was never found and she had to return home with her loss and grief. While Robert, Jenna's husband has gotten over his grief, Jenna has found nothing that can help her get over or forget the loss of her son, putting strain on their marriage and making them act more like strangers than a husband and wife.One night Jenna just can't take it anymore and decides she needs to leave, while in the middle of one of Robert's business parties, she just gets in the car and drives off. She eventually finds herself in Wrangell, Alaska, where her Native American grandmother lived - and just a few miles away from where Bobby drowned. There Jenna meets a shaman who tells her of the legends of the Tlingits and their beliefs as to a person's soul.As a big fan of Garth Stein and, of course, Enzo's, when I was contacted to review Raven Stole the Moon, I was like.... "ooh, ooh, me!" And although it seems this is one of Mr. Stein's previous works (maybe even his first), I was surprised by how much I actually enjoyed this story. It is definitely nothing like The Art of Racing in the Rain, this is more of a thriller, and at more than one point, it even felt creepy along the lines of a horror story. As a mother, you can't help but to feel Jenna's pain. The overwhelming loss of a child - trying anything and everything to overcome that grief and to eventually find a path to healing... it really is heartbreaking. This is her journey to not only save herself but also to save her son's soul.I really found it interesting to read of the Kushtakas (a/k/a shape-shifting soul stealers). I liked the mystery and even the fright that came with their myths and legends. Mr. Stein really has a way with words. I love the voice that he uses to narrate his stories. It was the same way with The Art of Racing in the Rain. I don't know if I can explain it right, but it's soft and soothing... even though there was a time or two where my hairs were standing on end... I found his writing calming.This is a heartwrenching story about grief, loss and healing that it is expertly intertwined with Native American folklore making it a fascinating read. I truly enjoyed it and would definitely recommend it.This book was provided for review Terra Communications.

[grgenius_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A great story combining the ties of family life, love and loss with native mystical lore to create a story you won't soon forget.Jenna and Robert seem to have it all. A great life, great friends, and their little boy, Bobby. While trying to expand their earthly wealth, they travel to the newly built Thunder Bay Resort for a little business and a little pleasure. But things are not always what they seem, for the land this place inhabits was owned long before the business officers arrived...and they mean to keep what they feel entitled to.

[needmoreshelves · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I was actually pretty nervous about this book - not too far in, it took a decided turn toward magical realism. You may or may not know this, but magical realism and I do NOT get along. I consistently struggle with being able to become fully immersed in these types of stories, and often find them a chore to get through.I was pleasantly surprised, then, to find myself becoming quickly engrossed in this tale of magic and tragedy in a small Alaskan town. I found the sections with David, the shaman, to be particularly powerful, and found his tales of Tlingit mythology to be fascinating. Stein does a masterful job of bringing the spirits and lore of the kushtaka to life in the pages of his story, and it completely worked for me, in ways that I would have never suspected.It did take me a little while to really connect with the characters - especially Jenna, although I suspect this was more a result of the narrative style (short, choppy sentences which seemed somewhat abrupt in the initial sections about Jenna) - and once Jenna got to Alaska and the story picked up, I became so involved that this was no longer an issue.And it is a great story - not only the fascinating pieces of native Tlingit lore, but the themes of love and loss and forgiveness were perfectly woven together to make for a completely compelling read. I definitely enjoyed it - if you were a fan of Stein's recent mega-hit, The Art of Racing in the Rain, this is a must-read!

[literatehousewife · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jenna lost her son, Bobby, in a tragic drowning while on a business-related vacation with her family at a soon-to-be-opened wilderness lodge. Two years later at home with her husband Robert in Seattle, Jenna has yet to recover. She's seen numerous psychiatrists, but has yet to come to terms with Bobby's death and the changes their loss made to their marriage. After a fight at yet another business related event, Jenna takes off in Robert's car. At first she just wants to get home. In the end, she just keeps driving, running away from Robert by default. Eventually, she ends up headed on the ferry to Alaska, the home of her Tlingit grandmother and the place where Bobby died. Can returning to the source of so much pain in her life help her move forward, or will it send her further into depression and despair?The first half of this novel had all the makings of a great episode of "The X Files." After Jenna lands in Alaska after leaving Robert, she has the most creepy experiences. Because she doesn't completely trust her sanity, she's not sure if she believes what she sees. What she may have experienced is creepy and kept me on the edge of my seat. I loved the potential of kushtaka, the otter people gifted with the ability to shift their shape and "convert" souls. When Jenna wonders if the kushtaka are real and if they may have some connection to the death of her son, I could just imagine Mulder and Scully investigating and having a field day with all the possibilities. During that first half, I was in heaven. I felt that I could relate to Jenna and I wanted her to find her way to where ever it was that she needed to go.The second half of the novel didn't work as well for me. I grew impatient with Jenna and her attitude about anyone other than herself. The story became much less suspenseful because it featured Robert and his attempts to find Jenna more prominently. This weighted the novel down and was distracting. I wanted the novel to be about Jenna and her discoveries. I wasn't so much concerned about Robert. It's not that he didn't matter, but I wish there could have been more a more concise way to bring him back into the story without the play by play. Robert also put enough normalcy and reality back into the story that when the kushtaka arc built back up, I missed it. I was no longer prepared for it. Had I recognized it immediately, the end of this novel really would have packed a punch.I didn't like this novel as much as The Art of Racing in the Rain. However, Raven Stole the Moon was more challenging and in some ways more interesting. I enjoyed the Alaskan setting, history, and spirituality that were infused throughout. I liked that Jenna and Robert were a mess and were prone to making rotten decisions when under stress. It made them human. The highlight for me was the section where Jenna relives her last moments with Bobby. They were incredibly heartbreaking and powerful. Had Stein maintained the same pacing and level of suspense consistently throughout, this novel would have been absolutely incredible.

[cherylk_44 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Ever since the drowning her heir son, Bobby two years ago, Jenna Rosen and her husband, Robert are more like strangers then husband and wife. Jenna decides to get away from her life and Robert for a while. She takes off for Alaska. This is where it all began. Where Bobby drowned. Jenna experiences some strange things like…a wolf or wolf type dog chases her through the woods. Jenna meets a man named David. He is a shaman. He tells Jenna of a legend hat the Tlingits believe. It has to do with the belief that not all people die peacefully, so people’s souls are trapped to wither wander aimlessly or take form in another being. What does this have to do with Bobby? Could this mean that he might be alive after all?Raven Stole the Moon is the first book I have read by Garth Stein. I have wanted to try his work out when I first heard about The Art of Racing in the Rain but just haven’t gotten around to it. After reading this book, I definitely plan to check the book out. I have to admit that I did get a little lost at first trying to figure out in my mind about how the shaman and the Tlingit beliefs really played a part in this story and Jenna’s son’s death. Once I out it all straight, I was able to fully sit back and immerse myself in this book. I found that I absolutely was delighted with this book as well as Mr. Stein’s writing style. He really brought the characters to alive on an emotional level that made you connect with them in the moment. I only have one last comment to make and that is… you have got to check Raven Stole the Moon for yourself.

[bagambo_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Garth Stein's third novel, The Art of Racing in the Rain, was a huge success. It was so successful, that I do believe a movie is being made as a result. In order to capitalize on Stein's success, his publishers have decided to re-release his first novel. Originally published in 1998, Raven Stole the Moon, tells the story of Jenna Rosen. Two years ago at the Thunder Bay Resort, near Wrangell, Alaska (the hometown of her Native American grandmother), Jenna's young son, Bobby, disappeared. She has no idea what happened to him, let alone what happened to his soul. Unable to let go of her grief, Jenna suddenly decides that she must go back to Wrangell. And she must go now. Leaving her husband at a party they were attending together, Jenna hops into their car and soon finds herself heading towards her past. Once in Wrangell, Jenna becomes involved with a local fisherman, gets threatened by the Kushtakas (spirits that steals souls) and schooled about the Kushtakas by a shaman. She soon realizes that Bobby's soul has been captured by the Kushtakas and she must now find a way to aid Bobby's soul to the Land of the Dead Souls, where he will finally be able to rest. Stein has created a novel that is both interesting and engaging. We have the undying love of a mother, Native American legends, a marriage riddled with grief and unhappiness and the Alaskan wilderness. Jenna Rosen is a character that you can't help but befriend. You feel her sadness and want her to pull through this journey of rescue, because not only is she saving her son's soul, but she is also saving herself in the process. The rest of the characters in the book are written so vividly and accurately, that you can easily visualize them. In fact, it is through these textured characters that we are introduced to the various Tlingit legends, which I believe helped make the spiritual aspect of the novel accessible. As for the Alaskan backdrop, Stein has clearly captured the wilderness and small town feel of Wrangell. The tone and strength of Stein's writing and voice are well defined in this debut novel. In fact, I believe that from the first page of the novel, Stein easily draws you into Jenna Rosen's world. You want to find out why this woman is thinking about drowning herself in the tub and why the notion of survival instinct is inherent in her thoughts. How did Jenna Rosen get to this mindset? Raven Stole the Moon is definitely a book that I would highly recommend. It is not my usual book fare, but I am truly glad that I decided to give it a go. Based on this book, I will be picking up Stein's other works and adding them to my TBR list.

[zibilee_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

After an argument with her husband at a party, Jenna Rosen impulsively takes off on an unplanned trip to Alaska. Jenna and Robert have been struggling with their marriage since their young son Bobby drowned at a posh resort near the Alaskan coast. The fight is the last straw for Jenna, who drives away from the party in her husband's car and boards a ferry taking her to what will be a very confusing, yet cathartic destination. Upon arriving, Jenna begins to check out the small town of Wrangell, where she is immediately drawn into stories and legends of the Tlingit Indians and the Tlingit kushtaka spirits, who are the thieves of souls. Meeting a local man named Eddie who offers her a room in his home in which to stay, Jenna is quickly drawn into strange circumstances and she soon comes to believe that the kushtaka spirits are not just a legend. Jenna has reason to believe that these spirits have stolen away her son's soul and that they are after hers as well. With her relationship with Eddie becoming more than just platonic and her growing belief that the malevolent kushtaka spirits are vying for her soul, Jenna escapes once again to find an Alaskan shaman to help her outrun the kushtaka and to restore her son's soul to rest. Blending elements of magical realism with the interpersonal story of Jenna's life, Raven Stole the Moon is a very complex and dark work of fiction.I have read numerous good reviews of Garth Stein's book The Art of Racing in the Rain, and though I have not yet read it, I have been looking forward to sampling something by this author. I was very pleased to have been contacted to review this book, a re-release of Stein's first work of fiction that forays deeply into the magical realism genre. I have to say that the book was a little different than what I had been expecting, but nonetheless it was a great reading experience.First of all, I felt that the relationship that was portrayed between Jenna and her husband Robert was very convincing and realistic. The arguments that they got caught up in were intensely dramatic and real and at times I would wince at the abuse that the two of them were hurling at each other. At no time did I feel that the couple didn't love each other anymore. Rather I felt that the heartache that was their son's death had compromised their emotions and minds and they couldn't seem to get any kind of emotional equilibrium achieved. It was very sad to see them so distraught, and by alienating each other, they were really alienating themselves. There are some sections of the book that deal with Jenna's total inability to cope with her child's death and her foray into prescription drug addiction and alcoholism. I felt that those sections were also realistic and they made me feel doubly sad for Jenna because it was clear that she had no handle on her feelings at all. When she basically runs away from her husband to travel to Alaska, I had been hoping that she would be able to use her time away as a means of healing herself and putting the past behind her.But Jenna doesn't seem able to outrun her past, because from the moment she sets foot in Alaska, forces beyond her control seem to be gathering towards her, pushing their way into her mind and forcing her to believe in things that she finds at first outlandish. When she meets Eddie and begins to camp out at his house, he stresses to her the bizarreness and unbelievability of the ideas that Jenna is beginning to have, which drives a wedge between them. Though they are both attracted to one another, the tension of their differing beliefs keeps them apart, and it is in this section that we first begin to see the subtle magical realism in the tale creeping out of the story.Though Robert is frantic to find his wife, Jenna seems to have no time to devote to thoughts of Robert, or Eddie for that matter, because she is starting to feel oddly compelled to discover whether the legendary kushtaka spirits have stolen her son's soul. Though it seems to be an off-the-wall assumption, the nuances of the story make it almost credible that Jenna would be looking towards these spirits for her son's salvation. The magical elements in the story were crisply delineated but didn't come off as awkward of clumsy. They also had a very artistic feel to them, which went far in my eyes to build towards a compelling and interesting conclusion. I think part of the reason for the feeling of cohesion in this story were the mythological qualities of the stories peppered throughout the first half of the book. Through the use of these stories, Stein captures a lot of the local feel of Alaska and its Native American inhabitants, greatly detailing stories of the Tlingit Indian spirit Raven.In the last two sections of the book, the story turns sharply from interpersonal narrative to a detailed and frightening magical realism novel. Jenna is pursued and captured by the kushtaka spirits and it is not clear what will happen to her or, for that matter, her soul. Jenna also finds interesting information about the whereabouts of her son's soul and the story builds towards a heart-racing confrontation between the humans and the spirits who want to absorb them. I found this battle between the kushtaka and the humans to be woven really tightly into the story and because of the slightly otherworldly aspect of the earlier plot, it didn't seem like the story was overwhelmed with awkward and outrageous elements. In fact, I felt that the story's conclusion had really been built solidly on its magical realism foundation and it all came together in a rather scary and mind-bending way.One thing that I thought I would mention in this review is the kushtaka spirits themselves. They come into the story as a sort of shape-shifter whose natural shapes seem to be of very human looking otters. These shape-shifters find ways to isolate human souls in peril and then take them down to their underground warren where they are transformed into kushtaka themselves. It is said in the story that once they have abducted you, you are never able to leave and that theirs is a hellish existence that no one would chose for themselves. They are remarkably frightening when they show up in the story as well, looking almost human but for the black glossy eyes and craggy teeth. They are also very forceful about abducting the humans, changing their shapes into those of people that the characters know and trust, stealing them away into the night with nary a sound. Stien mentions in the afterword of his novel that almost all of the otherworldly aspects of his story, including the kushtaka, have come directly from the real legends of the Tlingit Indians who inhabited this part of the world. I was really interested in that bit by the author and felt that he did an exemplary job of incorporating these legends into his tale.I thought that this was a very interesting and diverting story and I think that those who have read other books by Garth Stein might be interested in this singularly unique tale that he has told. I think it's very different from the other books that he has out there and I really ended up liking it a lot. I also think that those readers who enjoy stories imbued with a good dose of magical realism would get a lot of enjoyment out of this tale. It's just spooky enough to make you want to read it in a well lit area but it also has the organic and personal feel of a novel about relationships. A very uncommon story by a well loved author. Recommended.

[tibobi · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

The Short of It:Raven Stole the Moon is almost like reading two novels, side by side. There’s the everyday, here and now part of it, and then there’s the other part that centers around mysterious Native American legends and shapeshifters. At times, it’s a wild ride.The Rest of It:Raven Stole the Moon is not a new book for Stein. In fact, it was first published back in 1998, but after his success with The Art of Racing in the Rain, his publisher decided to release this new edition of Raven Stole the Moon. However, when I first picked it up, I believed that this was a new book so I was a tad surprised when I came upon the afterward in the book and was told that it wasn’t.I had mixed feelings over this book.The first half of the book worked for me. Jenna and her husband, Robert, experience what I believe, has got to be the hardest thing to get through; the death of a child. Jenna is grief-stricken, lost and confused and looking for closure. Stein does an excellent job of communicating that feeling of loss to me. Plus, I liked her a lot. She is easily someone who I could be friends with. When she arrives in Wrangell, Alaska she is sort of like flotsam in the sea. She just sort of drifts between point A and point B. When she lands into the arms of Eddie, their attraction is obvious.As we learn more about the circumstances of her son’s death, we are introduced to the Kushtakas. The legends of the Tlingit center around shapeshifters that are part man, part otter. These Kushtakas are soul-stealers. They change shape to lure you in. Once captured, you spend the rest of eternity as one of them. So in essence, your soul is never at rest.The introduction to this legend intrigued me, but by the end of the book, much of it seemed far-fetched. I felt as if the novel was pulling in two different directions. Part of it wanted to stick to the relationship aspect between Jenna, her husband, and Eddie. The other part wanted to focus on the ancient legends but the two never really came together for me. I think it would have been a more powerful read, had a bit more time been spent on the ending to blend the two together.I will say this, this novel is quite different from anything I’ve ever read. If you enjoy reading about Native American legends and can appreciate the spiritual aspect of the novel, you will enjoy this book. Also, Stein has a way with characters. Their mannerisms, their likes and dislikes, the way they use language, all come together to form real flesh and blood.Source: This ARC was provided by Terra Communications.

[kraaivrouw · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When I was growing up my mother was a storyteller. She told Southern folk tales and some Celtic tales, but most of all she loved to tell trickster stories, so I grew up with Raven and Jack and Anansi, and I was definitely curious to read this book because of its title and loose association with the story of how Raven stole the moon. I spent summers in Seattle from the time I was in the third grade and lived there for ten years (before the rain forced me to flee), so I like to keep my eye on Seattle writers. I haven't read Garth Stein's other book (The Art of Racing in the Rain), which I think of as the dog book because of the amazingly cute cover, but now I will.This book draws on the folklore of the Tlingit people to frame its utterly modern tale of Jenna and her search for her son who she can't quite believe is dead. Escaping her safe Seattle life for Wrangell, Alaska, Jenna is forced to face her fears, her beliefs, her history, her choices, and her life as she struggles to put together the pieces of the ancient puzzle that may bring her son back to her.Stein tells a great story here - it's a real page-turner with plenty of creepy, scary moments that will make you wonder what else may be out there. In a way this is a story that has been told over and over again and yet Stein tells it through fresh eyes that are never sentimental, never cliched, never simple. The characters are utterly believable as are their choices. I loved that Stein never took the easy way out. He held my attention and made me want to keep reading long past my bedtime.Thanks to the nice people at Terra Communications for giving me an advance copy of this book to review.

[writestuff_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jenna Rosen used to have a wonderful life – married to a man she loved, raising a little boy who meant the world to her. But a fateful trip to Thunder Bay, a lavish resort in Alaska, steals away everything. Bobby, Jenna’s five year old son dies in a drowning accident and Jenna feels responsible for his death. Her way of dealing with the guilt is to turn to alcohol and prescription drugs. Her husband, Robert, turns his grief to anger and directs it mostly at Jenna. Two years after Bobby’s death, Jenna impulsively leaves Robert and boards a ferry from Seattle to a tiny town in Alaska where her grandmother once lived…looking for answers in the cold and remote wilderness of Alaska.Jenna’s journey for closure quickly becomes a terrifying ordeal where Jenna must not only sift through the legends and beliefs of her ancestors, but must face the devastation of her marriage.On its surface, Raven Stole the Moon is a supernatural thriller which brings to life the Tlingit (pronounced Klink-it) legend of the Kushtaka – otter people who steal the souls of the dead. The Kushtaka are shape-shifters who can appear in whatever guise they desire to trick people into going with them. Jenna almost immediately encounters the Kushtaka upon her arrival in Alaska … and Stein amps up the tension and fear, successfully driving the story forward.But to classify Raven Stole the Moon as just a thriller would be wrong. There are deeper issues embedded in the novel: how does a parent survive the loss of a child? And how does a marriage evolve or devolve in the aftermath of such an event? What role does religious faith play in recovery? How does someone forgive themselves for a tragedy for which they feel responsible? These questions resonate through the story. Jenna appears to have no religious faith until she discovers the religion of the Tlingit which puts her on a pathway to self-discovery and provides closure for the loss of her son. Her journey is not just a physical journey, it is a spiritual one.I read this novel in just under three days. The story pulled me in and made me want to continue reading to find the answers. I loved the German Shepherd who makes an appearance as Jenna’s spirit guide. I admit to being terrified at some of the scenes when Jenna was being pursued by the Kushtaka. That said, the writing is not perfect. At times the dialogue felt stilted and I longed for more development of some of the supporting characters. I did not always understand Jenna or her motivations.Raven Stole the Moon is Garth Stein’s debut novel – released initially 13 years ago, it is now being re-released by Harper Collins after the success of his bestseller The Art of Racing in the Rain. I loved The Art of Racing in the Rain which I read last year (read my review). There are many differences between the two novels – perhaps most obvious the level of the writing. Stein has certainly grown as a writer in the 13 years between books. Despite some of the flaws in the prose, Raven Stole the Moon is still a worthwhile read, especially for those interested in Native American legend. The strengths of the book are its engaging storyline and the theme of recovery through spiritual awareness.

[jackieblem · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a slightly updated re-release of Stein's first novel originally published in 1996 and out of print for some time. Don't expect any Enzo-like characters here--this book is TERRIFYING, a flat out, brilliantly crafted horror story. Stein is a "blood quantum verified" registered member of the Tlingit Indian Tribe of Alaska (his great-grandmother was full blooded Tlingit), and he has taken one of their more terrifying legends and brought it to the modern world. This is a story about Kushtakas, otter spirit shapeshifters who steal souls from people found alone in the woods and waters near Klawock and Wrangell Alaska. Two years ago when Jenna's young son drowned in Thunder Bay, she had not heard the legends. But with her world falling apart around her in Seattle, Jenna decides to go back to Alaska and try to find peace. What she finds is a nightmare that leaves her fighting for her own life and soul. The writing in this book is masterful--I spent no small amount of time curled up in a ball keeping a wary eye on the windows and door locks while reading it. And the last 40 pages--I pretty much forgot to breathe. Yes, it's THAT good.