Set during an unnamed time in the future after a nuclear apocalypse, civilization is in tatters in Desert Creatures. Across the Arizona desert a father and his club-footed daughter, Magdalena, make the dusty pilgrimage to Las Vegas where Magdalena hopes to have a healing miracle performed at what remains of the Catholic church. Never arriving at the crumbled neon city, the pair find themselves waylaid in a small community of men, women, and children, a community which is surviving but only through the strictest of civil codes. The women branded and travel to and from their collective strictly regulated, Magdalena and her father find themselves stuck between a rock and a hard place. A situation that can be resolved only through drastic decisions, Magdalena finds herself at odds with her beliefs and the practical necessities of survival as they struggle to survive in the wilds beyond.
Not pure Western, Desert Creatures nestles itself within several vectors shooting across the landscape of fiction. From Cormac McCarthy to Walter M. Miller Jr., Jeff VanderMeer to Margaret Atwood, Graham Greene to Louis Lamour, the works of such writers float in and out of mind while reading. The stark realities of life are laid bare. Ideological and religious concerns in a planet deprived of civilization rise to the surface. Bizarre mutations are found in animals and diseases. And the dynamic state of the world at large is funneled through the lenses of people just trying to get through day to day.
Desert Creatures posits its own identity, however. This is not a distinct face which sticks out from the post-apocalytpic crowd in highly innovative, risk-taking fashion. But it does have features of its own, namely the story's main character and the personal, ideological questions she must come to terms with. Giving weight to this is Chronister's subdued but precise style. Successfully minimalist, it accurately relates surface features that directly and indirectly color the deeper undercurrents of Magdalena and the novel.
The umbrella of Desert Creatures is transformation. Spiritual in nature, elements of Catholicism and religion in general inform the novel's story and theme. But they are not the end point. It is not propaganda. I will not spoil things, but I can say that the arc of Magdalena's character is transcendent, and the point at which readers are left is practically personal in a way that goes beyond Earthly religion.
Imagination-wise, Desert Creatures has a subtle, surreal sparkle that adds color but does not interfere with thematic proceedings. A metal policeman, a sentient cowboy holograph, and tumor-ridden wildlife are some of the images readers will encounter. Food, shelter, and blood flowing through veins remain the concerns of the main characters. It's only that the world in which they live and interact is not John Wayne-simple. For readers who enjoy their realism with a pinch of the fantastic, Chronister ensures her characters and their purpose stay under the spotlight, while delightfully scattering bits of curious, engaging imagery for the interested.
In the end, Desert Creatures is somewhat Walter Miller's A Canticle for Leibowitz meets Cormac McCarthy's The Road. The mix not dichotomous, however, Chronister adds her own flavor of a female lead coming to terms with belief, hope, and the harsh practicalities of life in a wasteland of humanity. Thematically, Desert Creatures achieves a mid-point between those two novels, neither wholly ideological or familial. Also not a narrative of nihilism (as some contemporary post-apocalyptic novels are wont to be), there is a timeless, mythic feel to the book, a feel built by the spare but precise prose and spiritual conflict. The surreal elements add flavor and give the proceedings a subtle vigor that zombies cannot. In terms of 2023' novels, this an early standout worth reading.
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