Given Sedgwick's skill with atmosphere in fiction, coming across a book by him that centres on a revolver and an isolated homestead in the Arctic circle was a moment of joy.
Unfortunately, this book is something of a failure; it should really be tense and atmospheric; pregnant with potential violence and full of mystery but somehow it fails to deliver any of that, or much atmosphere, until very near the end, which is at least quite good.
I am left wondering what Jack London would have made of the same inspirational premise, surely it would have been better than this and also more grim.