Set in far northern Maine near the New Brunswick border, this exceedingly dark and precise novel examines what happens when a loner's territory is encroached upon. The simple story is told from within the titular middle-aged character's head, as he describes his upbringing deep in the Maine woods. Raised by his widowed WWII vet father in a cozy wood cabin built by his WWI vet grandfather, Julius lives a quiet contemplative life dominated by nature and the 3,000+ books that literally line his home. Summer landscaping and mechanical odd jobs in town provide him with what little money he needs, and the lack of human contact in his life seems to suit him fine: "Many men live in these woods who cannot live anywhere else. They live alone and are tuned close to any offense you might give them."
The catalyst for the story is the murder of Julius' dog by an unknown hunter. Getting a dog was the idea of Claire, a woman who wandered into his life several years before and left just as easily. The easy companionship of the dog deflected whatever pain he felt at her abandonment, so when the dog is killed, he is doubly alone. This leads to a scene of startling simplicity and power in which the reader suddenly understands that the quiet, remote, seemingly benign Julius has utterly lost it. It's a brilliant meditation on revenge that completely draws the reader into Julius' orbit and has one alternately rooting for and against his tragic quest. Ignore the terrible cover art, this is a book worth savoring.