I’m not sure how it’s even possible, but Stephen Graham Jones keeps getting better. The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is a master class in bravura storytelling by an author truly at the top of his game. As much as I love the Indian Lake trilogy and many of his other novels (I’m looking at you, Mongrels), I’ve always considered The Only Good Indians his best work. The Buffalo Hunter Hunter might, maybe, be even better.

This is a story within a story within a story. A young academic named Etsy Beaucarne discovers the diary of her great, great grandfather, Arthur Beaucarne, a Lutheran pastor, written in 1912. Within those brittle pages, he recounts a series of conversations—confessions would be more accurate—with a Blackfeet named Good Stab. Drenched in blood, history, and sorrow, the story of Good Stab’s life, and Arthur’s as well, is a triumph for Jones. He does something truly remarkable here, giving Etsy, Arthur, and Good Stab their own distinctive, original voices, juggling their stories effortlessly. I say effortlessly, because that’s how it feels as you read it, but I know from Jone’s afterword that it was no easy task.

This is historical horror at its best, at once a dark tale of revenge and a searing indictment of how native Americans were treated by white settlers. Jones uses real life history as a vehicle to carry his story along on waves of unflinching brutality and fever dream intensity.

One more thing…in the last chunk of the novel, when the story returns to Etsy, The Buffalo Hunter Hunter becomes a wild, audacious tour de force. It’s so over the top, so crazy, and yet so perfect an ending that there couldn’t be any other. I salute you, Mr. Jones.

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter is a must read.