Jimmy Bluefeather by Kim HeacoxJimmy Bluefeather by Kim Heacox

Jimmy Bluefeather

byKim Heacox

Paperback | September 6, 2016

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about

Old Keb Wisting is somewhere around ninety-five years old (he lost count awhile ago) and in constant pain and thinks he wants to die. He also thinks he thinks too much. Part Norwegian and part Tlingit Native ("with some Filipino and Portuguese thrown in"), he's the last living canoe carver in the village of Jinkaat, in Southeast Alaska.

When his grandson, James, a promising basketball player, ruins his leg in a logging accident and tells his grandpa that he has nothing left to live for, Old Keb comes alive and finishes his last canoe, with help from his grandson. Together (with a few friends and a crazy but likeable dog named Steve) they embark on a great canoe journey. Suddenly all of Old Keb's senses come into play, so clever and wise in how he reads the currents, tides, and storms. Nobody can find him. He and the others paddle deep into wild Alaska, but mostly into the human heart, in a story of adventure, love, and reconciliation. With its rogue's gallery of colorful, endearing, small-town characters, this book stands as a wonderful blend of Mark Twain'sThe Adventures of Huckleberry Finnand John Nichols'sThe Milagro Beanfield War, with dashes of John Steinbeck thrown in.

Kim Heacox is an award-winning author, photographer, and motivational speaker. He lives with his wife in Southeast Alaska and is the author of several books includingJohn Muir and the Ice that Started a Fireand the novelCaribou Crossing. His feature articles have appeared inAudubon,Travel & Leisure,Wilderness,Islands,Orion, andNational...
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Title:Jimmy BluefeatherFormat:PaperbackDimensions:264 pages, 9 × 6 × 0.68 inPublished:September 6, 2016Publisher:Graphic Arts BooksLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1943328714

ISBN - 13:9781943328710

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Read from the Book

The weight of airUSED TO BE it was hard to live and easy to die. Not anymore.Nowadays it was the other way around. Old Keb shook his head as he shuffled down the forest trail, thinking that he thought too much. "Oyye . . ." he muttered, his voice a moan from afar. He prodded the rain-soaked earth with his alder walking cane. For a moment his own weathered hand caught his attention-the way his bones fitted to the wood, the wilderness between his fingers, the space where Bessie's hand used to be. Wet ferns brushed his pants in a familiar way. He turned his head to get his bearings, as only his one eye worked. The other was about as useful as a marble and not so pretty to look at. It had quit working long ago and sat there hitching a ride in his wrinkled face. The doctors had offered to patch it or plug it or toss it out the last time Old Keb was in Seattle, but he said no. Someday it might start working again and he didn't want to do all his seeing out of one side of his head. He was a man, for God's sake, not a halibut. A wind corkscrewed through the tall hemlocks. Old Keb stopped to listen but had problems here too. He could stand next to a hot chain saw and think it was an eggbeater. All his ears did now was collect dirt and wax and grow crooked hairs of such girth and length as to make people think they were the only vigorous parts of his anatomy. He always fell asleep with his glasses on, halfway down his nose. He said he could see his dreams better that way, the dreams of bears when he remembered-when his bones remembered-waking up in the winter of his life. Nobody knew how old he was. Not even Old Keb. He might have known once but couldn't remember. Somewhere around ninety-five was his guess, a guess he didn't share with any of his children, grandchildren, great grand-children, great-great grandchildren, or the legions of cousins, nephews, nieces, friends, and doctors, who figured he was close to one hundred and were on a holy crusade to keep him alive. All his old friends were dead, the ones he'd grown up with and made stories with. He'd outlived them all. He'd outlived himself.

Editorial Reviews

"With humor, passion, and respect, Kim Heacox brings us a voyage of discovery like no other. . . .You'll be torn between packing your bags for Crystal Bay and living more fully in your own storied place." -Maria Mudd Ruth, author of Rare Bird