Enjoy or anyway endure the bucolic splendor of Andrew Mayne’s … The Naturalist. Crisp, clean Montana air. Stars so clear and sharp they perforate your frontal lobes. The faintest tang of pine needles, the subtle rustle of a deer in a stand of trees, a tow-truck driver dressed as a bear strapping claws on to kill people … Wait. Come again?
If you’re ready to get your science on, then tuck your everyday carry into your lumbar satchel and get ready for the woods — they’re bloody, dark, and deep, and there are killers to catch before you sleep.