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This review is from: In the Place of Last Things (Hardcover)
With his second novel, Helm has struck that impossibly perfect chord on every single page. There's so much to listen to. The counterpoints: a ruggedly physical masculinity and a intellectually abstracting masculinity. The harmonies: the visions that lurk within and the visible transformations that come out of blind faith and blind rage. And then all this dense white noise that hovers in between words and silence. I can't think of another Canadian novel that is so consistently intense (Ondaatje only gets there sometimes) nor one that so perfectly blends the lyrical with the realist. Helm has done for West what Rothko did for red, and Miles did for blue.