I FOUND MY WAY to Wallace Stegner by accident.
Really through three identical accidents, lightning strikes that I’m only now beginning to suspect were signs.
Given Stegner’s lifelong fascination with the American West, a landscape simile seems appropriate.
The same thing happened with the sprawling, multigenerational “Angle of Repose” (1971) in a different cabin a decade later, and with Stegner’s career-making, semi-autobiographical fifth novel, “The Big Rock Candy Mountain” (1943), earlier this year.
