The tale of a native son

Armed with this Renaissance man, Frazier pulls the reader in with the story of Cooper's early days as an orphan and the day-to-day fright of living in an alien (and soon-to-be doomed) culture. As the narrator reflects on his early days among the Cherokees and the daunting geography, he notes, "Seven layers of mountains faded off in diminishing orders of blue to the west. I stood and looked at the place and imagined it all pitch black, and I was afraid."

Though Cooper, like his real-life counterpart, gains control of some lands and is able to keep a small clutch of Cherokees from being removed in the "Trail of Tears" march westward, the drama fails to resonate in Frazier's depiction. He has the obligatory historical novel cameos down pat: Here is a glimpse of the nefarious Andrew Jackson, the backer of the infamous Indian Removal Act, there are the disunited resistance leaders John Ross and Major Ridge, and so on.

Cooper's political, business, and outdoor exploits appear in intermittent bursts, sandwiched around windy reflections on the land that begin as lyrical homage and devolve into tedium and parody.

At one point, an imminent duel between Cooper and a man whose father was captured because of Cooper's betrayal is defused by a back-slapping whiskey session in which "we contested to name all the colors the mountains and their foliage are able to take on." That's right. We have a showdown between hardy frontiersmen and neither one is going to fire his weapon. Instead – buckle up – they're going to discuss the gradations of, yes, fall foliage.

Cooper's love of leaves makes more sense than his love of Claire, a cold, baffling character whose motivation seems forever suspect. She exists to disappear for lengthy stretches before reappearing, engaging in sulky sex, and vanishing again.

True, plenty of people fall in love with those who hurt them, but Claire winds up being vapid and irritating rather than the alluring and mysterious combination Frazier seeks. (Depending upon point of view, this last trait may, or may not, increase the chances of luring "Cold Mountain" alumna Nicole Kidman back for another turn in a Frazier-penned role.) Cooper himself grows tiresome with his suspicion of all things modern, grousing about telephones and light bulbs in failed asides aimed at raffish curmudgeonly charm.

"Thirteen Moons" and its narrator lose much of their momentum in the second half of the book. Frazier possesses prodigious talent, but his plot feels too loose and unfocused.

If Cooper grates and the love story becomes ridiculous, Frazier can take ample consolation in the coming harvest moon, sure to be filled by bountiful bestseller lists and a multimillion-dollar movie option.

• Erik Spanberg is a freelance writer in Charlotte, N.C.

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