Senses satisfied in saga of family in turmoil  The verdict: A richly atmospheric, engrossing sophomore effort. Apparently undaunted by the overnight success of her debut novel, 1998's "Icy Sparks" --- an Oprah Book Club pick --- Gwyn Hyman Rubio returns with "The Woodsman's Daughter," an engrossing novel that affirms the Versailles, Ky., author's genius for those little gestures that lend her novels a cinematic quality. When the curtain comes up on her latest saga, 15-year-old Dalia and her blind sister, Nellie Ann, are rolling their eyes at the prospect of their alcoholic father's return home. When Monroe Miller stumbles in from his toils in the pine woods in post-Civil War Georgia, scenes of stomach-tightening family tension allow readers to see, hear and even smell how deeply he mourns the loss of his family's respect for him. Every page is infused with sensory details. The Millers live in a world where savory cooking smells of "sliced . . . rabbit on top of a skillet of fried cornbread" coexist with a "night breeze teasing the foliage of the pecan trees." Monroe Miller's wife, Violet, holds him responsible for the family's long-hidden secret, and her own laudanum addiction rivals his alcoholism. Though he's carved out an impressive livelihood for his family through turpentine "farming," Monroe is still the kind of dirt-under-the-nails man who can lose his head over a bottle of bourbon or gamble away a parcel of land on a cockroach race. Rubio never allows her readers any emotional distance from this odd man's discomfiture and it's impossible not to empathize with him despite his shortcomings. Act 2 of Rubio's tale finds Dalia struggling alone in a nearby small town after a series of family catastrophes. The wily 19-year-old with violet eyes draws up a list of possible husbands to support her; the protagonist's first, foundering marriage to Dr. McKee offers some of the book's greatest emotional conflict. And though some of the ancillary characters in "Icy Sparks" suffered from a touch of the doldrums --- a frequent flaw in debuts --- Rubio's latest second-string cast lends the narrative an admirable depth. Rubio has a particular gift for capturing mannerisms that offer insights into a character's psyche, such as the unpalatable Dr. McKee: "Pressing his hand against his chest, he would gulp down air, tick his head as though he couldn't possibly manage another morsel, but in the next instant tear off a thumb of biscuit, smear it through a dollop of gravy, pinch it up with some dove, and pop it into his mouth. Puckering his lips, he'd nurse his fingers, as greedy as a baby at the nipple." Dalia eventually finds love with Walter Larkin, an attorney who long pined for her and is all too eager to help rear her son, Marion. Dalia's ever-faithful servant, Katie Mae, is also by her side. Throughout the book, Katie Mae's biting witticisms add flavor as she dispenses doses of wisdom to each generation. After Dalia gives birth to Clara Nell, her daughter immediately supplants Marion in her affections, and as Clara Nell grows into a starring role in the third section, her spirited antics carry the family saga into the 20th century. Fate eventually throws the young woman into the path of Dayton Morris, grandson of her grandfather's most bitter rival. Sure enough, this outsider's presence in Clara Nell's life spells disaster for the family, allowing Rubio the chance to neatly sew up all the loose ends of her plot with a delicious flourish. Andrea Hoag - For the Journal-Constitution, Sunday, August 7, 2005