Into the Wilds of Rural Sonoma County - an Editorial Review of "Occidental: a Town Divided"

Book Blurb:

Christopher Thomassen Folkmann defects from the U.S. Navy, evading his pursuers and escaping into the wilds of rural Sonoma County. With the new alias of Dutch Bill Howard, he seeks control of a meadow amidst a redwood forest, going up against lumberman Boss Meeker. The fight never lets up during the second half of the nineteenth century with the establishment of Occidental and Howards, two towns sitting side-by-side, divided by a fence and bad blood. Railroaders, timber tramps, vigilantes and fat cats make their presence known to heighten the chaos further. The fate of a meadow and two men are in the balance as misfortunes and calamities fast approach.

Book Buy Link: https://geni.us/6OAdWAl

Editorial Review:

Title: Occidental: A Town Divided

Author: John M. McCarty

Rating: 4.3

"Jorgen Folkmann was one of these forsaken souls who worked at a quarry under the shadow of its creation, the Hammershus Castle, an outpost of Denmark in the Baltic Sea. He worked eighty hour weeks, toiling in the “hole”, cutting channels in rock before widening them with hammer and wedge. Upon entering his stone domicile, Jorgen Folkmann would follow a routine long established, tainted with defeat and lost hopes. The old man would slap a pile of wrapped herring upon the table before retiring to a distant corner without a word to share."

From this opening, "Occidental: A Town Divided" by John M. McCarty introduces the emotional origins of its protagonist, Christopher Thomassen Folkmann, a boy who will later abandon this world and reinvent himself in pursuit of something greater. The passage focuses on his father, Jorgen Folkmann, whose life in the quarry, marked by relentless labor and a routine “tainted with defeat and lost hopes,” seems to embody a future shaped by endurance rather than possibilities. His habit of retreating “to a distant corner without a word to share” suggests a man worn down not only physically but inwardly, as though hope itself has become a burden he can no longer carry. For the reader, this part might feel less like a warning and more like a fate already waiting, and one that might soon threaten to confine Christopher to the same cycle of exhaustion and quiet resignation that has defined his father’s life. By opening the novel with this portrait, McCarty establishes the weight of inheritance as the first obstacle Christopher must confront, raising the question of whether he will accept the life set before him, or whether he will break away from it entirely.

This early struggle with inheritance follows Christopher across the ocean, where he renames himself William Howard and begins shaping the life that will eventually anchor the novel. His first encounter with Caroline Kolmer, a woman who will soon become his wife, signals a turning point.

"They hitched their steeds near the gate to a whitewashed farmhouse. “Anybody home?” Dutch Bill said as he knuckle-tapped on the front door. Another knock. “Hello? Anyone?” “Yes?” a woman said upon opening the portal. She was a whisp of a lady with tightly notched hair, rouge-tinted cheeks and piercing blue eyes, looking much too dignified for this part of the world. No response other than the dumbfounded gaze upon Dutch Bill’s countenance. “Yes?” the lady repeated."

This scene seems simple on the surface, yet it quietly establishes a shift in William’s trajectory. His wordless reaction to Caroline’s presence suggests a man momentarily arrested, as though confronted with something he did not know he lacked until this moment. Caroline’s repeated “Yes?” places her in control of the exchange, giving her a composure that feels grounded and assured and in contrast, William’s silence suggests uncertainty beneath his adopted name and new identity. Their meeting feels less like coincidence and more like convergence, bringing together a man still shaping himself and a woman who appears firmly rooted. This contrast becomes central to the novel’s larger movement, because William’s future successes and failures will unfold within the stability Caroline seems to provide.

"The minister retreated a step and said, “Well, if God’s work is done here, I shall—” “We desire so,” a voice called out from the rear. The minister cupped a hand over his eyes to block the glare from the Chinese lanterns. “Come forward and be blessed for all eternity.” The assembly parted to construct a makeshift aisle for the couple. William Howard and Caroline Kolmer strolled forward, arm in arm. Along the way, William clipped a brass ring from the stage curtain. Howard pledged his everlasting devotion, placing the ring upon her finger. Vows, blessings and embraces were exchanged before the newlyweds dashed from the scene to evade any awkwardness in the waiting."

The improvised nature of this ceremony suggests much about William's character. Clipping a brass ring from a stage curtain and stepping forward without hesitation conveys a man inclined to act first and reckon later, and yet the moment, for all its spontaneity, carries a weight William may not yet fully grasp. This pattern, in which bold decisions create opportunity while also planting seeds of future strain, seems to mirror the broader arc of his life. The marriage marks not only the beginning of shared endurance but also the point at which William's restless ambition becomes bound to responsibilities he cannot simply walk away from. What begins in impulsiveness thus gradually becomes the foundation upon which his entire legacy will stand.

"William ignored the activity in the kitchen and hurried down the hallway to his bedroom. With a heavy breath, he nudged the door, which moaned opened to reveal Caroline lying as before. Heavy footfalls brought him to her. He felt for a pulse. His heart quickened with the dread. Caroline Kolmer Howard was no more. He finger-brushed the hair from her forehead and lowered his lips to her cold flesh. She resembled little of when they first met some three decades earlier. The rouge in her cheeks was missing as well as the spark in her eyes. Where’d she go?"

Here the narrative strips away public ambition and leaves only private loss, and because William's actions are rendered so simply and directly, the absence of ornament in the scene only heightens its emotional weight. That weight seems to gather most intensely around his final question, "Where'd she go?", which carries not only grief but bewilderment, as though something essential has vanished without explanation. In this moment, the measure of his life appears to narrow from land, reputation, and enterprise to the single presence that gave those pursuits meaning. The scene therefore reframes the novel's larger concerns. William spends decades building outward, acquiring land, founding a town, raising children, yet this passage reveals what ultimately mattered inward.

What ultimately distinguishes "Occidental: A Town Divided" is McCarty’s disciplined control over narrative scope and emotional weight. His prose remains measured and deliberate, allowing meaning to emerge gradually rather than forcing it. It is this restraint that gives the novel a quiet sense of authority and a trust of its subject, allowing the accumulation of time, choice, and consequence to shape the reader’s understanding without relying on artificial dramatic emphasis. This sense of control extends to McCarty’s rendering of place and community. The town does not exist merely as backdrop but develops with a sense of permanence and internal logic, shaped by competing ambitions, loyalties, and pressures. McCarty captures this evolution with careful attention to human interaction, showing how individual desires intersect to produce something larger and more enduring than any single life. The characters who populate this world are drawn with precision and restraint, avoiding exaggeration while still conveying distinct presence and purpose. Their interactions create a layered social landscape that reinforces the novel’s central concerns with endurance, displacement, and belonging.

Perhaps the novel’s greatest strength lies in its structural cohesion. Early images and emotional conditions introduced at the beginning quietly echo through later chapters, creating a sense of continuity that binds the narrative across decades. McCarty does not rely on overt reminders or forced parallels instead, he allows patterns to emerge naturally, giving the novel a feeling of completeness that becomes fully visible only in retrospect. This architectural patience gives the story its lasting resonance, as the reader comes to recognize how carefully its foundation has been laid. Without a doubt, "Occidental: A Town Divided" stands as a work of considerable narrative confidence and artistic restraint. McCarty demonstrates a clear understanding of how lives, places, and histories take shape over time, and he renders that process with consistency and precision. The novel’s power does not depend on spectacle, but on its unwavering attention to consequence, memory, and continuity, and long after its final pages, what remains is not simply the story it tells but the fully realized world it leaves behind.

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