In June of 2018, after the death of Carolyn, my wife of nearly fifty-three years, I discovered a small box squirreled away in a storage trailer on our farm. It contained a carbon copy of the manuscript of this book. I opened the box for the first time in fifty-six years and began reading out of curiosity. I was alternately shocked, blown away, and deeply moved by what I read.
I recalled that a good friend of mine had submitted it to a publisher in 1962 when I was studying in France and had received a rejection slip. Reading it fifty-six years later, I think I understand why. I immediately went to work on two sections toward the end of the book, both abbreviating them and reshaping their contents. I then submitted the manuscript to our daughter, Theresa, to get her take on it. She made a couple of good suggestions which I have incorporated into the new laptop version of the manuscript.
“Dad,” she said, “this has to be published. I can’t believe you wrote it so long ago. This is as good as anything we read in English literature. People need to read it now more than ever.”
Book One was written during the summer of 1961 when I was serving as a lookout fireman stationed on Loon Creek Point in what was then the Primitive Area of the Challis National Forest in central Idaho. Books Two and Three were written in the following months during my senior year at St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota. I then transferred everything from my longhand scribble onto a typewritten manuscript with a carbon copy. The job was completed by the end of the school year. Once it was done and commended to my friend, I never laid eyes on it again until last June. That’s when it blew me out of the water.
The main characters in the book are inspired by real people, as are many of the minor characters. Many episodes throughout the book likewise reflect actual happenings. Of course, as author I assume full responsibility for the form they take in a work of fiction. It has been tempting to revise it more than I have. But as an old man, I am loath to tamper with the fires and passions of the youth I once was.
I hope our daughter is right. I hope that you are drawn into the story, that you will laugh and cry, and that in the end you will be glad you read it.
Joseph Robert Jacobson, Autumn, 2018