Do you ever get into a trend with a particular author where you want to devour all of their books? Where one is not enough? You want the voice and the storytelling to extend and continue, like a season-long series, not a feature length film. I picked up Kem Nunn's first novel on a miserable sick day at home, and I tore through it in a feverish state. With a nerve-racking, page-turning plot, Nunn made the suffering much easier by occupying my mind with fates much worse than my own.

Once I had a taste of Kem Nunn's supposed invention of 'surf noir' I wanted more. Does that mean that I fell into the trap of buying into this whole "genre categorization" thing? Or that I was really just a surfer who wanted to read books with surfing in the storyline? Maybe. Just like people who like riding horses will read books like . . . never mind.


"Dogs of Winter" stars Jack Fletcher as the seeming protagonist, but his surly and sodden past do not make such a flattering image, and therefore I read him with some empathy. Drew Harmon could be another protagonist in this tale of big wave surfing up in the rugged coast of Northern California. Nunn himself tried living in the area for a period of time during the crafting of "Dogs." This is a technique that many authors use to garner as much of a sense of place and time as possible. He lived there no doubt to catch the waves not only of the ocean, but also of the people and environment. Nunn harnesses this wave energy by melding those experiences into this harrowing story.

One photograph of this supposed mysterious big wave surf spot, and Jack could be back on top after he seemed to be near the epilogue of his career. With the popularity and recognition, Drew could regain his old fame as professional champion surfer. He too would be back from the edge, after almost falling over that precipice of destitution. Money underlies the motif of these white men attempting to trample on ancient Native American grounds, for that is where this million-dollar surf break lies, on sacred, forbidden land. This mistake, coupled with the accidental death of a young Native American boy who helps the surfers make the illegal crossing, causes Kendra, Drew's wife who's blood runs fifty-fifty to suffer untold horrors. This only manages to further the cycle of vengeance.

Violence, madness and poverty seem to always work their way into Nunn's package of scenes and dialogues. His ability to access the dark side of the American Dream is uncanny. There is an underworld that exists, and no writer I know other than Don DeLillo is better able to expose the desperation that runs amuck in this parallel world. If you decide to read the suspenseful and shocking parade of words orchestrated by Nunn, prepare for a walk on the other side of the tracks.

ER Harris