Tony Hillerman didn't just write mysteries. He wrote geography. When you pick up a copy of The Dark Wind, you aren't just looking for a killer; you’re basically walking into the high desert of the Navajo Nation during a season of heavy, oppressive heat and shifting sand. Published in 1982, this book marked a massive turning point for Hillerman. It’s the fifth novel in his celebrated Leaphorn and Chee series, but honestly, it’s the one where Jim Chee really comes into his own as a character caught between two worlds.
If you've spent any time in the Four Corners region, you know the wind isn't just air moving. It’s a presence.
Hillerman understood that. He used the concept of the "dark wind"—a Navajo belief regarding a sickness of the soul or a malevolent force—to anchor a plot that involves a crashed plane, a load of cocaine, and a series of seemingly unrelated vandalisms at a windmill. It sounds like a standard 80s thriller setup. It isn't.
The Collision of Tradition and Crime in The Dark Wind
What makes The Dark Wind stand out from the rest of the series is the isolation. Unlike Joe Leaphorn, who is the "Legendary Lieutenant" with a more cynical, Westernized approach to investigation, Jim Chee is younger and deeper into his Navajo roots. He's trying to be a "singer" (a traditional healer) while wearing a police badge. It's a messy contradiction.
The plot kicks off when Chee is assigned to a remote area of the Joint Use Area—a real-life stretch of land that was the subject of a bitter, decades-long dispute between the Navajo and Hopi tribes. Hillerman was meticulous about this. He didn't just use the Hopi-Navajo land dispute as "flavor" for the background. He made it the literal ground the characters walk on.
You've got a dead body found in a place where it shouldn't be. The feet have been mutilated. To a standard FBI agent, it’s a grisly crime scene. To Chee, it’s a cultural puzzle.
Why the Hopi Perspective Matters Here
A lot of readers forget that this book is as much about Hopi culture as it is about the Navajo. Chee finds himself at the village of Oraibi, which is one of the oldest continuously inhabited settlements in North America. Hillerman spent years researching the nuances here. He wanted to get the "clans" right.
In the story, the mystery of the "dark wind" is tied to the timing of the Niman Kachina ceremony. This is the "going home" ceremony of the spirits. If you've ever seen the mesas of Arizona, you can picture the stakes. Hillerman describes the light hitting the rock in a way that feels like he’s standing right there with a notebook.
The crime itself involves a drug-running operation, which was a very real concern in the rural Southwest during the late 70s and early 80s. Small planes would use the flat, desolate stretches of the reservation as makeshift runways. But Hillerman isn't interested in a Miami Vice style shootout. He’s interested in how that world—the world of high-stakes greed—smashes into a world that measures time by seasonal ceremonies and ancestral debts.
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Breaking Down the "Dark Wind" Metaphor
The title isn't just a spooky name.
In the Navajo way, hózhó is the concept of balance and harmony. When someone commits a taboo or experiences a great evil, they lose that balance. The "dark wind" is that internal chaos. It’s a psychological state as much as it is a supernatural one.
Chee is struggling with his own balance throughout the book. He’s being pressured by the FBI to be a "good little informant," and he’s being pressured by his community to stay true to his traditions.
The genius of Hillerman’s writing is that he never makes Chee a caricature. He’s a guy who gets tired. He gets frustrated with the bureaucracy. He makes mistakes. Honestly, the way Hillerman writes about the FBI agents—who are often portrayed as bumbling or culturally illiterate—is a bit of a wink to the locals who lived through those jurisdictional nightmares.
The Real-World Impact of Hillerman's Accuracy
It’s worth noting that Hillerman was eventually awarded the "Special Friend of the Dineh" award by the Navajo Nation. That’s a big deal. Usually, outsiders writing about indigenous cultures get a lot of things wrong. They romanticize the "mysticism" or they treat the people like museum exhibits.
Hillerman did the opposite.
He wrote about the dust. He wrote about the broken-down trucks. He wrote about the complicated legal reality of the Tribal Police. In The Dark Wind, the technical details of how a plane crashes in the desert are just as important as the religious significance of a prayer stick. This level of E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, and Trustworthiness) is why the book is still taught in literature classes and police academies alike.
What People Get Wrong About the 1991 Movie
You can't talk about the book without mentioning the movie. It was produced by Robert Redford and directed by Errol Morris. On paper, it should have been a masterpiece.
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It wasn't.
Most fans of the book hate the film. Lou Diamond Phillips played Jim Chee, and while he’s a great actor, the movie stripped away the internal monologue that makes the book work. In the novel, the "dark wind" is a feeling. In the movie, it just looks like a lot of beige sand. If you want to experience this story, you absolutely have to read the prose. The movie missed the nuance of the Hopi-Navajo tension that Hillerman spent 300 pages building.
Navigating the Geography of the Novel
If you’re looking to follow Chee’s footsteps, you’re looking at the area around Tuba City and the Hopi Mesas.
- The Joint Use Area: This is the heart of the conflict. Understanding the 1974 Navajo-Hopi Land Settlement Act helps you understand why the characters are so suspicious of each other.
- Burnt Water: A fictionalized but very real-feeling trading post.
- The Windmill: The site of the vandalism that kicks off the plot. In the desert, water is life. Vandalizing a windmill isn't just mischief; it’s an act of war.
Hillerman’s descriptions are so accurate that people actually use his books as unofficial travel guides to the Southwest. Just don't go looking for the specific plane crash site—that part is, thankfully, fiction.
The Legacy of Jim Chee
This book solidified Jim Chee as a permanent fixture in American detective fiction. He wasn't just a "Navajo cop." He was a philosopher with a pistol.
The way he handles the "dark wind"—both the literal storm and the metaphorical corruption of the people around him—provides a blueprint for the "tribal noir" genre. Without this book, we probably wouldn't have modern hits like Longmire or Dark Winds (the AMC series which, ironically, takes its name from this book but pulls plot points from the whole series).
The AMC show actually does a much better job than the 90s movie at capturing the "vibe" of Hillerman's world. They lean into the 70s/80s aesthetic and the grit of the reservation. But even then, the book has a specific quietness that television can’t quite capture.
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How to Approach The Dark Wind Today
If you’re picking this up for the first time, don't rush the first fifty pages. Hillerman takes his time. He wants you to feel the heat. He wants you to get slightly annoyed by the slow pace of the investigation, because that’s what life is like in a place where the nearest backup is two hours away.
- Look for the subtext: Every time Chee mentions a specific direction or a specific cloud formation, it usually relates to a Navajo belief about order and chaos.
- Pay attention to the weather: The wind is a character. It obscures vision, it hides tracks, and it drives people crazy.
- Check the publication date: Remember, this was 1982. No cell phones. No GPS. If you get stuck in a wash during a flash flood, you’re on your own.
The "dark wind" is ultimately about what happens when people lose their way. Whether it’s the drug dealers looking for a quick payday or the officials willing to overlook a murder for the sake of "the bigger picture," the moral rot is the real antagonist.
Actionable Insights for Readers and Collectors
If you're looking to dive deeper into the world of Tony Hillerman and The Dark Wind, there are a few practical ways to enhance the experience.
First, if you are a book collector, look for the Harper & Row first editions. They are becoming increasingly rare, especially copies in good condition without "clipped" dust jackets. The cover art on the original editions often captures that stark, minimalist desert aesthetic better than the modern reprints.
Second, for those interested in the cultural context, read up on the "Long Walk of the Navajo." It’s the historical trauma that sits in the background of every Leaphorn and Chee novel. Understanding that history makes Chee’s hesitation to trust the federal government a lot more understandable.
Finally, if you’re planning a trip to the Southwest, visit the Navajo Nation Museum in Window Rock. They have exhibits that provide the real-world context for the traditions Hillerman describes. It turns the "mystery" into a living history.
The real power of the book isn't in the "whodunnit." It’s in the "why." Why do people stay in a land that seems to want to blow them away? Why do they hold onto traditions that the rest of the world has forgotten? Hillerman answers that by showing that the "dark wind" can only be defeated by someone who knows exactly where they stand.
To truly understand the impact of this work, compare it to other police procedurals of the era. While others were focusing on the gritty streets of New York or LA, Hillerman was proving that the desert was just as dangerous, just as complex, and infinitely more beautiful. You don't just read The Dark Wind; you breathe it in. And like the sand in a desert storm, it stays with you long after the air clears.
Check out the maps of the Navajo Nation before you start reading. It changes everything when you realize just how much empty space exists between the points on Hillerman's map. That emptiness is where the mystery lives.