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The protests in response to the 1970 bombings in Cambodia changed Doug Peterson’s life. Watching one on the University of Minnesota campus, where he was a student, led to his withdrawal from school. He moved to northern Minnesota and lived a simple life, hunting and foraging. But the loss of a cat and his home left him rebuilding himself yet again.
The book’s title references the massive cement sculpture of a Viking that Peterson made, but the sculpture is barely mentioned in the story. Rather, Peterson recounts, in multiple chapters, his house burning down. This and other tragedies are the focus, the detritus from which he moves on, causing him to recreate his life more than once. Starting with the author’s childhood capers and teenage road trips, the book’s format is a series of adventures and misadventures. Details about Minneapolis locations, musical icons, and cars situate Peterson in the freewheeling spirit of the late 1960s that equips him to face the challenges of survival that constitute his adulthood adventures.
The chaotic writing—ranging from poetic to anecdotal to urgent and emotional—matches the precarity of Peterson’s circumstances. The chapters are short, and the pace moves quickly from one scene to the next. Incidents of dialogue are few and far between and are in line with the book’s main thrust of Peterson’s individual struggles. Instead of people, Peterson interacts with the woodlands around him, noting the colors, sounds, and sights of his surroundings. Peterson fills out the narrative with colorful descriptions of his cat and neighbors. The resulting tone is of a stoic acceptance of change and gratitude for his companions along the way. An epilogue, photos, and a postscript suggest an ongoing metamorphosis. A sequel is promised.