Leif Enger has a way of making the end of the world feel strangely like a Tuesday afternoon in Minnesota. If you've picked up I Cheerfully Refuse, you already know what I’m talking about. It’s not your typical post-apocalyptic slog. There are no zombies. No high-tech bunkers. Just a massive, grieving bear of a man named Rainy, a sailboat named Flower, and a Lake Superior that has become as much a character as the humans trying to survive on its shores.
Honestly, it’s a weird book.
It’s beautiful, too. Enger, the guy who gave us Peace Like a River, has shifted gears into a world that feels uncomfortably close to our own. It’s a place where "billionaire-class" overlords have basically bought up the government, and everyone else is just trying to find enough scrap metal or clean water to last the week. It’s dystopian, sure, but it’s written with this lyrical, almost folk-song quality that makes the darkness easier to swallow.
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The Heart of the Story: Rainy and the Lake
Rainy—or Rainier—is a giant. He’s a bass player. He loves his wife, Lark, who runs a bookstore in a time when books are basically treated like firewood or dangerous relics. Their life in a crumbling town on the shores of Lake Superior is precarious, but it’s filled with music and actual, genuine love. Then, because this is a story about the world breaking, things go sideways.
Violence arrives. It’s sudden. It’s senseless.
Without spoiling the pivot that sends Rainy out onto the water, let's just say he ends up a fugitive on a lake that is increasingly temperamental. Lake Superior in I Cheerfully Refuse isn't just a setting; it's a god. It’s vast, freezing, and indifferent to whether Rainy lives or dies. He’s sailing a boat he barely knows how to handle, chasing a ghost of a hope, and trying to stay ahead of some truly nasty people.
The title itself comes from a note Lark leaves. It’s a manifesto, really. In a world that demands you be cruel to survive, choosing to "cheerfully refuse" that cruelty is a radical act. It’s not about being happy-go-lucky. It’s about a stubborn, grit-your-teeth kind of kindness.
Why the World Building Feels So Eerily Possible
Enger doesn't spend pages explaining the "Fall." There’s no data dump about the Great Collapse or whatever. Instead, you get these sharp, stinging details. People are "Astronauts"—not the space kind, but people hooked up to cheap, soul-erasing drugs. The economy is a mess of bartering and "slates" of debt.
What makes it work is how recognizable it is.
You see the remnants of our world. A rusted-out bridge. A brand name you recognize on a piece of trash. It’s the "gradually, then suddenly" school of collapse. The villains aren't cartoonish monsters; they are the logical conclusion of unchecked greed. Willow, the primary antagonist Rainy encounters, is a terrifying example of what happens when power meets a complete lack of empathy. He’s a guy who thinks he owns the water and the air, and he’s got the goons to back it up.
The Literary DNA of I Cheerfully Refuse
If you’re a fan of The Road by Cormac McCarthy, you’ll find some DNA here, but with a lot more light. Where McCarthy is bleak and grey, Enger is deep blue and flickering orange. There's a lot of Emily Dickinson in here, too. Literal books of her poetry play a role.
The prose is dense. You can't skim this.
"The lake was a slate of hammered silver, indifferent to the smallness of my grief."
That’s the kind of line that stops you. Enger writes like a craftsman. Every sentence feels planed and sanded down. It’s a story about a man who has lost everything but his sense of rhythm. Music is the thread that keeps Rainy from unraveling. Even when he’s starving or freezing, he’s thinking about the deep, resonant thrum of his bass strings.
Literacy as Resistance
One of the coolest things about the I Cheerfully Refuse book is how it treats reading. Lark’s bookstore is a sanctuary. In this future, literacy is fading. People are losing the ability to focus, to think deeply, to imagine something better than the misery in front of them.
By holding onto books, Rainy and Lark are holding onto the human soul.
It’s a bit meta, isn't it? A book about the importance of books. But it doesn't feel preachy. It feels desperate. It reminds us that when things fall apart, the stories we tell each other are the only things that don't rust. Rainy carries these stories with him across the water, and they act as a compass when the physical stars are hidden by smog or storms.
Navigating the Lake: A Reader's Map
If you’re going to dive into this, you need to be prepared for the pacing. It’s a voyage. Sometimes the wind dies down, and Rainy is just drifting, and the book slows to a crawl. Some readers might find that frustrating. They want the chase. They want the action.
But the drifting is the point.
It’s in those quiet moments on the boat, with the fog rolling in, where Rainy has to face his grief. Enger is interested in the internal landscape as much as the external one. How do you keep being a "good man" when there’s no society left to reward you for it?
The Characters You’ll Meet (And Maybe Hate)
- Solomon: A young boy Rainy picks up along the way. He’s a mirror. He shows us what the world is doing to the next generation—making them hard, making them silent. Watching Rainy try to soften that hardness is one of the most moving parts of the book.
- Kellerman: A complicated figure from the past who represents the "old world" and its failures.
- The Lake: I'm listing it as a character because it is. It decides the plot. It provides food, it threatens death, and it demands respect.
Is This "Cli-Fi"?
People love labels. They call this "Climate Fiction" or "Cli-Fi."
Sure, the weather is messed up. The Great Lakes are the only place left with real water, which is why everyone is fighting over them. But calling it just "climate fiction" feels a bit reductive. It’s more of a moral fable. It’s a story about the endurance of the human spirit. It’s about the fact that even at the end of the world, people will still want to hear a good song and sit by a fire.
Common Misconceptions About the Story
A lot of people go into this expecting a high-octane thriller. It’s marketed that way sometimes—"A fugitive's flight across a lawless lake!"
That’s not quite it.
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It’s a slow-burn odyssey. If you’re looking for Mad Max on a sailboat, you’re going to be disappointed. This is much closer to The Odyssey or Huckleberry Finn. It’s episodic. It’s contemplative. It’s about the people Rainy meets on various islands and shores—some who help him, some who try to skin him alive.
Another thing? It’s not as depressing as it sounds.
Despite the death and the collapse, there is a "cheerful" element to it. It’s found in the small things. A well-cooked fish. A shared joke. The way the light hits the water at dawn. Enger refuses to let the darkness win, even if the darkness is winning in the literal sense.
Actionable Insights for Readers and Collectors
If you're planning to read I Cheerfully Refuse, or if you've already finished it and want to go deeper, here is how to get the most out of it:
- Listen to the soundtrack: While there isn't an official one, Enger mentions specific types of music and rhythms. Put on some deep, acoustic bass or some old-school folk. It sets the mood perfectly.
- Track the geography: If you aren't familiar with Lake Superior, pull up a map. Look at the Apostle Islands. Look at the North Shore. Seeing the actual scale of that water makes Rainy’s journey feel much more perilous.
- Read the poetry: The book references Emily Dickinson frequently. Go back and read "Hope is the thing with feathers." It’s basically the secret key to the entire novel.
- Look for the "Lark" moments: The book is haunted by Rainy's wife. Every time he makes a choice, he’s asking what she would do. It’s a great study in how we carry the people we love even after they’re gone.
The Reality of the Ending
Without giving it away, don't expect a neat bow. Real life doesn't have neat bows, and neither does a world that’s halfway through a slow-motion car wreck. The ending is about resolve. It’s about the fact that the journey doesn't really end; you just keep sailing.
Next Steps for Your Reading Journey
Go buy the physical copy if you can. This is a "book person's" book. The cover art, the feel of the pages—it matters here because the story is so much about the tactile world we are losing. Once you're done, look into the history of the Great Lakes shipwrecks. It provides a haunting context for Rainy's fear of the "big water." Finally, if you haven't read Peace Like a River, do that next. It shows you where Enger's obsession with justice and grace started. There’s a direct line from the lands of his earlier work to the water-logged world of Rainy.