The eminently first-world problem that can come from having a literary smash hit is that every book you write subsequently has to live within its shadow. The American writer Charles Frazier was in his late 40s when, in 1997, he published his debut novel, Cold Mountain, about a confederate army deserter during the civil war desperate to return home regardless of the punishment he’d face. It won the National Book award, sold a million copies in its first year, and was later made into a film starring Jude Law and Nicole Kidman. In the 26 years since, Frazier has published only three further books – Thirteen Moons, Nightwoods and Varina – none of which scaled similar heights.
The 72-year-old’s latest, The Trackers, might just experience a similar fate. It tells the curiously underwhelming tale of Val Welch, a young painter from Virginia eking out a living in Depression-era America. He travels across the country to rural Wyoming, where he is to paint a mural on the side of the town’s post office by arrangement of a wealthy local ranch owner, John Long. Long, an art lover, has political aspirations. He lives with his much younger wife, Eve, and a grizzled old cowboy hand, Faro, whose masculine manner is more wild west than the US of 1937.
