I discover writers through other writers, either through personal recommendations, or an author's name in the same company of a writer I admire. Sometimes writers sneak in plugs for each other in their own work. Ken Bruen's protagonists are always haunting used book & record stores. I've taken tons of recommendations from Ken, from Charles Willeford to Megan Abbott. William T. Vollmann was a name I heard numerous times in conjunction with contemporary & favorite of mine, David Foster Wallace.In one particular instance, I happened on a generous community for writers hosted by Chuck Palahniuk, a writer I've devoured avidly over the years; I think it was called The Velvet. Through that inside forum I discovered Jeremy Robert Johnson, Craig Clevenger, lots of Bizarro portland writers, and Stephen Graham Jones.I've read all his published work, from his early West Texas noir/tragedies All The Beautiful Sinners, The Fast Red Road, et al, to the madcap horror romps like Zombie Sharks With Metal Teeth, the chupacabra-inhabited It Came From Del Rio, his own cult novel, Demon Theory, to his turn at pure & informed historical fantasy, Ledfeather (that was formerly one of SGJ's volumes on my Shelf of Fame) the horror for which he is best known, the 100's of stories, the dozens of novels; Mapping The Interior (that was also on the Shelf), The Least Of My Scars, The Long Trial Of Nolan Dugatti, and now, The Only Good Indians.What effects me most in Stephen's writing is the lapidary opulence of his descriptive prose--each invocation condensed as a koan--without ever leaving the colloquial. I'm envious of the friendships and relationships in all his books, friends that finish each others' thoughts, so many in-jokes we're all let in on, dialogue & dramatic interaction on an exalted but utterly simpatico level.Stephen is a devotee of horror in all its venues, and his capacious embrace of genre films informs but doesn't define his work. Our sense of justice deferred imbues our empathy for hunted become hunter in Bronson's Death Wish and Eastwood's Sudden Impact; retribution from beyond fuels I Know What You Did Last Summer. In The Only Good Indians, the hunted-become-hunter is no longer figurative.Stephen Graham Jones breaks the mold of formula or template at every turn. Each of the cast of characters is given their own voice in their own chapters, though in fact, the unique integrity of tone within each chapter, as well as the parsimonious revelation of history among these four Blackfeet young men and their near ones reads initially and in some of the best moments as stand-alone stories. So solid, so true in voice, so particular in personal & characterful resonance.Lewis is our first narrator. Instantly sympathetic, an everyman we are comforted as will be a dependable and companionate protagonist.I was honored to be granted an early read of some of Stephen's work. The drunk, hapless, part-time storage unit denizen & guard cum necessitated P.I. had to snap out of a particularly bad hangover. So, with intent, he slammed his hand in a truck door."Stephen! I'm a pianist! Give me a heads-up on the hand-smashing stuff!"Therein lies Stephen's horror super-power: the even-keel, quotidian life plunged instantaneously into the deepest wrong you could never imagine.What makes Lewis' horror the more palpable is the insecurity of knowing how much is due to the Avenging Angel and how much (as in Scars & Dugatti) is the demon, the guilt sowed deeply within.And we've barely started. It's a sheer drop into madness all the way to the end, with the Avenging Angel & Denorah, Gabriel's ultra-athletic daughter fighting for it all, one-on-one, Bergman-style, but with the most intuitively informed narrative of blacktop basketball as you'll ever read.