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Cockfighter
The sport is cockfighting and Frank Mansfield is the cockfighter - a silent and fiercely contrary man whose obsession with winning will cost him almost everything. In this haunting, ribald, and percussively violent work, the author of Hoke Moseley detective novels yields a floodlit vision of the cockpits and criminal underbelly of the rural south. First published in 1962 by Charles Willeford, later made into a Roger Corman film.
200 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1962
About the author
Charles Willeford
73 books396 followersCharles Willeford was a remarkably fine, talented and prolific writer who wrote everything from poetry to crime fiction to literary criticism throughout the course of his impressively long and diverse career. His crime novels are distinguished by a mean'n'lean sense of narrative economy and an admirable dearth of sentimentality. He was born as Charles Ray Willeford III on January 2, 1919 in Little Rock, Arkansas. Willeford's parents both died of tuberculosis when he was a little boy and he subsequently lived either with his grandmother or at boarding schools. Charles became a hobo in his early teens. He enlisted in the Army Air Corps at age sixteen and was stationed in the Philippines. Willeford served as a tank commander with the 10th Armored Division in Europe during World War II. He won several medals for his military service: the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, two Purple Hearts, and the Luxembourg Croix de Guerre. Charles retired from the army as a Master Sergeant. Willeford's first novel "High Priest of California" was published in 1953. This solid debut was followed by such equally excellent novels as "Pick-Up" (this book won a Beacon Fiction Award), "Wild Wives," "The Woman Chaser," "Cockfighter" (this particular book won the Mark Twain Award), and "The Burnt Orange Heresy." Charles achieved his greatest commercial and critical success with four outstanding novels about hapless Florida homicide detective Hoke Moseley: "Miami Blues," "New Hope for the Dead," "Sideswipe," and "The Way We Die Now." Outside of his novels, he also wrote the short story anthology "The Machine in Ward Eleven," the poetry collections "The Outcast Poets" and "Proletarian Laughter," and the nonfiction book "Something About A Soldier." Willeford attended both Palm Beach Junior College and the University of Miami. He taught a course in humanities at the University of Miami and was an associate professor who taught classes in both philosophy and English at Miami Dade Junior College. Charles was married three times and was an associate editor for "Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine." Three of Willeford's novels have been adapted into movies: Monte Hellman delivered a bleakly fascinating character study with "Cockfighter" (Charles wrote the script and has a sizable supporting role as the referee of a cockfighting tournament which climaxes the picture), George Armitage hit one out of the ballpark with the wonderfully quirky "Miami Blues," and Robinson Devor scored a bull's eye with the offbeat "The Woman Chaser." Charles popped up in a small part as a bartender in the fun redneck car chase romp "Thunder and Lightning." Charles Willeford died of a heart attack at age 69 on March 27, 1988.
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October 23, 2019
”If a man accepts life logically, the unexpected is actually the expected.”
Willeford played a part in the 1974 movie.
Frank Mansfield makes an ill advised bet that will leave him in dire straits. ”All I had left was a folded ten-dollar bill in my watch pocket and one dead chicken.” He bets everything, including his truck and trailer, on one cockfight and loses. He has a girlfriend, of sorts, named Dody. ”She was as strong as a tractor, but not quite as intelligent.” He can’t afford her upkeep on only ten-dollars, so he lets her go with the trailer.
Frank, in the midst of his trials and tribulations, is always a practical man. He knows what he can do and what he can’t do. He has kept his fiance waiting for the past eight years because being on the cockfighting circuit keeps him away from home too much to keep a bride happy. He has one goal to obtain. It has been his white whale, his odyssey. He wants to be named Cockfighter of the Year of the Southern Conference Tournament. He’s had his chances. Bad luck and sometimes his own hubris have cost him a chance at the title. In an effort to separate himself from his past mistakes and to free his future for success, Frank takes a vow of silence.
He thinks his punishment is not talking, but in reality, it is the fact that, when people find out he doesn’t talk, they turn him into their confessional. It makes sense, right? Who is Frank going to tell? And what an opportunity to unburden themselves, and boy, do they ever.
Cockfighting is a blood sport, much like bullfighting, and I abhor the use of animals for sport, including hunting. The subject matter of this book kept me from reading it for decades, but I kept reading references to it, comparing it to Homer’s Odyssey, and that it’s considered to be Willeford’s masterpiece. I’ve been on a Willeford reading kick lately, so I finally decided it was time. I understand the references to the Odyssey, but as I read the book, I kept thinking of Ahab putting everything else aside, and risking his life to finally catch his white whale. Frank also puts everything on hold to do everything he can to win the coveted Cockfighter of the Year award.
Willeford does not candy coat cockfighting. The blood will fly, and there is one particularly brutal moment that I will never forget. Willeford, as he always does, puts his readers right in the middle of the action. It is readily evident that Willeford has done his research and certainly has spent some time down in the pits watching or participating. I do believe I learned more about cockfighting from this novel than if I’d read a manuel. ”The right feel of a gamecock is indescribable. Maybe it is an instinct of some kind, but if a man ever gets the right feel of a perfectly conditioned gamecock in his fingers, his fingers never forget.”
Charles Willeford wrote the screenplay for the 1974 movie based on his book.
What Willeford is exploring in this novel is obsession. He just happens to use cockfighting as his vehicle to root at the truth of an enthusiasm that becomes a neurotic passion. ”It is only incidental that Frank Mansfield is a cockfighter; he is a man with an obsession, and the novel could just as easily have been about an insurance salesman, or an account executive for an advertising firm.”
Frank Mansfield is a fascinating character. A man’s man who accepts setbacks stoically and continues to battle his way back to the moment that the medal he has sought for so long is within his grasp.
What then?
I often think about who Ahab would have been if he had defeated his white whale. Once you’ve achieved a goal like that, what comes next?
Who will Frank be? What will be the first thought on his mind when he wakes up every morning? When people put all their effort into one goal, they tend to eventually be successful. The problem, of course, is all the debris they leave in their wake of family, friends, career, and security. The journey is much more exciting than the actual achievement. So would Frank be more fulfilled by never winning?
That is what good writing is about, leaving us much to ruminant on long after we finish the book.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
Willeford played a part in the 1974 movie.
Frank Mansfield makes an ill advised bet that will leave him in dire straits. ”All I had left was a folded ten-dollar bill in my watch pocket and one dead chicken.” He bets everything, including his truck and trailer, on one cockfight and loses. He has a girlfriend, of sorts, named Dody. ”She was as strong as a tractor, but not quite as intelligent.” He can’t afford her upkeep on only ten-dollars, so he lets her go with the trailer.
Frank, in the midst of his trials and tribulations, is always a practical man. He knows what he can do and what he can’t do. He has kept his fiance waiting for the past eight years because being on the cockfighting circuit keeps him away from home too much to keep a bride happy. He has one goal to obtain. It has been his white whale, his odyssey. He wants to be named Cockfighter of the Year of the Southern Conference Tournament. He’s had his chances. Bad luck and sometimes his own hubris have cost him a chance at the title. In an effort to separate himself from his past mistakes and to free his future for success, Frank takes a vow of silence.
He thinks his punishment is not talking, but in reality, it is the fact that, when people find out he doesn’t talk, they turn him into their confessional. It makes sense, right? Who is Frank going to tell? And what an opportunity to unburden themselves, and boy, do they ever.
Cockfighting is a blood sport, much like bullfighting, and I abhor the use of animals for sport, including hunting. The subject matter of this book kept me from reading it for decades, but I kept reading references to it, comparing it to Homer’s Odyssey, and that it’s considered to be Willeford’s masterpiece. I’ve been on a Willeford reading kick lately, so I finally decided it was time. I understand the references to the Odyssey, but as I read the book, I kept thinking of Ahab putting everything else aside, and risking his life to finally catch his white whale. Frank also puts everything on hold to do everything he can to win the coveted Cockfighter of the Year award.
Willeford does not candy coat cockfighting. The blood will fly, and there is one particularly brutal moment that I will never forget. Willeford, as he always does, puts his readers right in the middle of the action. It is readily evident that Willeford has done his research and certainly has spent some time down in the pits watching or participating. I do believe I learned more about cockfighting from this novel than if I’d read a manuel. ”The right feel of a gamecock is indescribable. Maybe it is an instinct of some kind, but if a man ever gets the right feel of a perfectly conditioned gamecock in his fingers, his fingers never forget.”
Charles Willeford wrote the screenplay for the 1974 movie based on his book.
What Willeford is exploring in this novel is obsession. He just happens to use cockfighting as his vehicle to root at the truth of an enthusiasm that becomes a neurotic passion. ”It is only incidental that Frank Mansfield is a cockfighter; he is a man with an obsession, and the novel could just as easily have been about an insurance salesman, or an account executive for an advertising firm.”
Frank Mansfield is a fascinating character. A man’s man who accepts setbacks stoically and continues to battle his way back to the moment that the medal he has sought for so long is within his grasp.
What then?
I often think about who Ahab would have been if he had defeated his white whale. Once you’ve achieved a goal like that, what comes next?
Who will Frank be? What will be the first thought on his mind when he wakes up every morning? When people put all their effort into one goal, they tend to eventually be successful. The problem, of course, is all the debris they leave in their wake of family, friends, career, and security. The journey is much more exciting than the actual achievement. So would Frank be more fulfilled by never winning?
That is what good writing is about, leaving us much to ruminant on long after we finish the book.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
June 16, 2018
I have absolutely no idea how this book and its movie came back to the surface of my mind. I watched the film in 1975, I think, and I'm sure it was with Paul the film student. (He was also a drunk, and to date the only lover I've ever had that I allowed to hit me.)
Come to think on it, he's also the source of one of my most enduring pleasures, that of watching films whose books I've read or plan to read, and of making fantasy films of the books I read that haven't got films. Thanks, Paul, for growing me a spine and for giving me that deeply satisfying fantasy life. (He died in 1986, so this is more in the nature of valediction than praise.)
Anyway...I recommend the book to men because it's about us at our most male and least woman-centered. It's brutal and tough and awful. It's a clarion call to the smarter ones of us to look at what's actually going on in our heads and fucking stop it already. Not because women don't like us for what they've done to us, but because hurting ourselves is just damned stupid. The cult of macho is a male reaction to rejection and judgment, as Willeford presents it; this being what I've observed, it had me nodding along as I read the book.
Where the film falls down, I think, is in the nature of the storytelling medium. On its surface, this film's about how a man decides not to live with a woman but to sell every-damn-thing he owns and double down on the world of cockfighting. Ultimately this works out, in the sense that his cock wins the championship.
Not one single human female would watch this movie and think, "oh that was fun." The image of women in it is as emasculating damaging emotional black holes. Yeah, great date-night flick, eh what? And men come off as damnfool eedjits without a lick of sense. That both these things are true doesn't make them any easier to swallow. And on film, there are lost nuances because actors speaking lines aren't readers absorbing language use on multiple levels. So it's no wonder to me that this film tanked.
But it's a misunderstood work of art, Cockfighter is. Its darkest moments and grimmest interpretations are all true and accurate. That's intentional on Willeford's part, based on the entirety of his ouevre. (Go here to read a really, really interesting academic take on Willeford as writer and man manqué.) The levels and ideas that this brutal, cruel, emotionally stopped body of work contains are rewarding to unpick and enjoyable to contemplate.
For Y chromosome bearers.
Come to think on it, he's also the source of one of my most enduring pleasures, that of watching films whose books I've read or plan to read, and of making fantasy films of the books I read that haven't got films. Thanks, Paul, for growing me a spine and for giving me that deeply satisfying fantasy life. (He died in 1986, so this is more in the nature of valediction than praise.)
Anyway...I recommend the book to men because it's about us at our most male and least woman-centered. It's brutal and tough and awful. It's a clarion call to the smarter ones of us to look at what's actually going on in our heads and fucking stop it already. Not because women don't like us for what they've done to us, but because hurting ourselves is just damned stupid. The cult of macho is a male reaction to rejection and judgment, as Willeford presents it; this being what I've observed, it had me nodding along as I read the book.
Where the film falls down, I think, is in the nature of the storytelling medium. On its surface, this film's about how a man decides not to live with a woman but to sell every-damn-thing he owns and double down on the world of cockfighting. Ultimately this works out, in the sense that his cock wins the championship.
Not one single human female would watch this movie and think, "oh that was fun." The image of women in it is as emasculating damaging emotional black holes. Yeah, great date-night flick, eh what? And men come off as damnfool eedjits without a lick of sense. That both these things are true doesn't make them any easier to swallow. And on film, there are lost nuances because actors speaking lines aren't readers absorbing language use on multiple levels. So it's no wonder to me that this film tanked.
But it's a misunderstood work of art, Cockfighter is. Its darkest moments and grimmest interpretations are all true and accurate. That's intentional on Willeford's part, based on the entirety of his ouevre. (Go here to read a really, really interesting academic take on Willeford as writer and man manqué.) The levels and ideas that this brutal, cruel, emotionally stopped body of work contains are rewarding to unpick and enjoyable to contemplate.
For Y chromosome bearers.
July 11, 2024
Charles Willeford's villains are tough, self-assured and manly men who are convinced about their own uniqueness. They also have a sneering contempt for ordinary life and people who in their opinion are ordinary.
Here is Frederick.J Fenger, Jr reacting to his newly acquired girlfriend's ambition to buy a Burger King franchise in Miami Blues - "I can't see any point to hanging around a Burger King all day, no matter how much money you make. .... I'll tell you why. Your life would depend on the random desires of people who wanted a hamburger. So you can just forget about Burger King".
Or Troy Louden in Sideswipe - "Smoking comforts ordinary men, but I'm not an ordinary man. There aren't many like me left. And it's a good thing for the world that there isn't. There'll always be a few of us in America in every generation. Because only a great country like America can produce men like me. I'm not a thinker, I'm a doer."
Here is Frank Mansfield in Cockfighter - "It is a funny thing. A man can make a promise to his God, break it five minutes later and never think about it. With an idle shrug of his shoulders, a man can break solemn promises to his mother, wife or sweetheart, and, except for a slight momentary twinge of conscience, he still won't be bothered very much. But if a man ever breaks a promise to himself he disintegrates. His entire personality and character crumble into tiny pieces, and he is never the same man again.
I remember very well a sergeant I knew in the army. Before a group of five men he swore off smoking forever. An hour later he sheepishly lit a cigarette and broke his vow to the five of us and to himself. He was never quite the same man again, not to me, and not to himself."
Frank Mansfield is the main character in Cockfighter. But he is almost like a villain, tough as an axe, contemptuous of women, intensely judgmental of his fellow men - basically a man who would not take a backward step to anyone or anything. The novel is his internal soliloquy after he takes a vow of silence in a year where he aims at winning the "Cockfighter of the Year" award.
There are vivid and violent descriptions of cockfighting matches and the effort that goes into training cocks. It is almost like a bible or even a documentary for/about cock fighters. As usual, Willeford goes into minor details of monetary transactions and how much the main character spends. Money is an obsession for nearly all the characters in Willeford novels and the ones in Cockfighter are no different. As Willeford wrote in Honey Gal - "Money is the root of all goodness. To talk disparagingly about money is the privilege of those who have money. There are also those people who state matter-of-factly that "money isn't everything". This statement is also true, but only so long as one has money." I almost gave this novel a 5, it is one of the best books I've read all year. But at times, the vow of silence taken by Mansfield is a bit hard to digest. Why would people put up with his silence? How did they simply accept that he had lost his voice? It almost makes the character a bit clownish. Maybe that was the author's intention.
Here is Frederick.J Fenger, Jr reacting to his newly acquired girlfriend's ambition to buy a Burger King franchise in Miami Blues - "I can't see any point to hanging around a Burger King all day, no matter how much money you make. .... I'll tell you why. Your life would depend on the random desires of people who wanted a hamburger. So you can just forget about Burger King".
Or Troy Louden in Sideswipe - "Smoking comforts ordinary men, but I'm not an ordinary man. There aren't many like me left. And it's a good thing for the world that there isn't. There'll always be a few of us in America in every generation. Because only a great country like America can produce men like me. I'm not a thinker, I'm a doer."
Here is Frank Mansfield in Cockfighter - "It is a funny thing. A man can make a promise to his God, break it five minutes later and never think about it. With an idle shrug of his shoulders, a man can break solemn promises to his mother, wife or sweetheart, and, except for a slight momentary twinge of conscience, he still won't be bothered very much. But if a man ever breaks a promise to himself he disintegrates. His entire personality and character crumble into tiny pieces, and he is never the same man again.
I remember very well a sergeant I knew in the army. Before a group of five men he swore off smoking forever. An hour later he sheepishly lit a cigarette and broke his vow to the five of us and to himself. He was never quite the same man again, not to me, and not to himself."
Frank Mansfield is the main character in Cockfighter. But he is almost like a villain, tough as an axe, contemptuous of women, intensely judgmental of his fellow men - basically a man who would not take a backward step to anyone or anything. The novel is his internal soliloquy after he takes a vow of silence in a year where he aims at winning the "Cockfighter of the Year" award.
There are vivid and violent descriptions of cockfighting matches and the effort that goes into training cocks. It is almost like a bible or even a documentary for/about cock fighters. As usual, Willeford goes into minor details of monetary transactions and how much the main character spends. Money is an obsession for nearly all the characters in Willeford novels and the ones in Cockfighter are no different. As Willeford wrote in Honey Gal - "Money is the root of all goodness. To talk disparagingly about money is the privilege of those who have money. There are also those people who state matter-of-factly that "money isn't everything". This statement is also true, but only so long as one has money." I almost gave this novel a 5, it is one of the best books I've read all year. But at times, the vow of silence taken by Mansfield is a bit hard to digest. Why would people put up with his silence? How did they simply accept that he had lost his voice? It almost makes the character a bit clownish. Maybe that was the author's intention.
February 20, 2021
No tengo ni idea de gallos ni de peleas de gallos, pero esta novela me ha fascinado. Que yo entienda o no de gallos no le ha quitado nada de mérito. De hecho, aborrezco las peleas de gallos y, aún así, ha conseguido que sienta cierto interés. Porque lo que importa no es lo que narra Willeford, sino como lo narra.
Es espectacular como consigue que su personaje principal, que se ha autoimpuesto el voto de silencio, no hable, pero transmita tanto durante cada página.
Sencillamente, genial.
Qué bien trata el mundo de los gallos, con mucha emoción, con cariño, y con conocimientos, y eso que es una temática poco usual.
Qué personaje principal tan bien creado: el mudo (por elección) Frank Mansfield.
Unos personajes secundarios que refuerzan toda la historia.
Ya me gustó mucho "Miami Blues" y esta novela es incluso mejor.
Un escritor brillante.
I have no idea of roosters or cockfights, but this novel has fascinated me. Whether I understand or not about roosters has not taken away anything of merit. In fact, I abhor cockfighting and yet he has got me some interest. Because what matters is not what Willeford narrates, but how he narrates it.
It is spectacular how he manages to get his main character, who has self-imposed the vow of silence, not to speak, but to transmit so much during each page.
Simply, brilliant.
How well the world of roosters treats, with a lot of emotion, with affection, and with knowledge, and that is an unusual topic.
What a well-crafted main character: the mute (by choice) Frank Mansfield.
Secondary characters that reinforce the whole story.
I already liked "Miami blues "a lot and this novel is even better.
A brilliant writer.
Es espectacular como consigue que su personaje principal, que se ha autoimpuesto el voto de silencio, no hable, pero transmita tanto durante cada página.
Sencillamente, genial.
Qué bien trata el mundo de los gallos, con mucha emoción, con cariño, y con conocimientos, y eso que es una temática poco usual.
Qué personaje principal tan bien creado: el mudo (por elección) Frank Mansfield.
Unos personajes secundarios que refuerzan toda la historia.
Ya me gustó mucho "Miami Blues" y esta novela es incluso mejor.
Un escritor brillante.
I have no idea of roosters or cockfights, but this novel has fascinated me. Whether I understand or not about roosters has not taken away anything of merit. In fact, I abhor cockfighting and yet he has got me some interest. Because what matters is not what Willeford narrates, but how he narrates it.
It is spectacular how he manages to get his main character, who has self-imposed the vow of silence, not to speak, but to transmit so much during each page.
Simply, brilliant.
How well the world of roosters treats, with a lot of emotion, with affection, and with knowledge, and that is an unusual topic.
What a well-crafted main character: the mute (by choice) Frank Mansfield.
Secondary characters that reinforce the whole story.
I already liked "Miami blues "a lot and this novel is even better.
A brilliant writer.
January 12, 2016
*3.5 Stars*
The interesting thing about this book is that it is essentially the classic underdog sports story that is popular in a lot of movies, television, and books, but instead of focusing on a football player or boxer, it's about a man who trains chickens to fight to the death.
It's told from the point of view of Frank Mansfield, a respected cockfighter who, at the books opening, loses all of his money, his car, his mobile home, and his ace cock Sandspur after being defeated by his rival. Now, with only a few bucks in his pocket and the clothes on his back, we witness him doggedly work his way to the top, in his pursuit of the Cockfighter of the Year Award.
Frank isn't the best of guys and is, for all intents and purposes, an asshole. But you feel his complete passion and dedication to not only the game, but the art and craft of conditioning a fighting cock. It's actually pretty inspiring, but it's also pretty sad as he shuns and alienates many people who love him in his pursuit of his dream. We even find him years into a vow of silence he's taken until he wins the award. This level of passion is what drives the novel. It's hard to see a guy so dedicated and not root for him to win. Also, the level of detail in depicting the world of Southern cockfighting is staggering. You get the feeling that Willeford definitely has some first-hand knowledge!
The story itself is actually pretty traditional and I could even see some of the cock-training marathons in my head as I read and also hear the Rocky movie montage music playing in the background! Maybe that was a little disappointing, how traditional the plot is. There's not really much else to the story, which surprised me after reading both Pick-up and Wild Wives from Willeford, both of which felt anything but traditional. And obviously there's a lot of violence involving chickens, which is really hard to take at times, so if you are really sensitive about that stuff, you shouldn't read this one.
The interesting thing about this book is that it is essentially the classic underdog sports story that is popular in a lot of movies, television, and books, but instead of focusing on a football player or boxer, it's about a man who trains chickens to fight to the death.
It's told from the point of view of Frank Mansfield, a respected cockfighter who, at the books opening, loses all of his money, his car, his mobile home, and his ace cock Sandspur after being defeated by his rival. Now, with only a few bucks in his pocket and the clothes on his back, we witness him doggedly work his way to the top, in his pursuit of the Cockfighter of the Year Award.
Frank isn't the best of guys and is, for all intents and purposes, an asshole. But you feel his complete passion and dedication to not only the game, but the art and craft of conditioning a fighting cock. It's actually pretty inspiring, but it's also pretty sad as he shuns and alienates many people who love him in his pursuit of his dream. We even find him years into a vow of silence he's taken until he wins the award. This level of passion is what drives the novel. It's hard to see a guy so dedicated and not root for him to win. Also, the level of detail in depicting the world of Southern cockfighting is staggering. You get the feeling that Willeford definitely has some first-hand knowledge!
The story itself is actually pretty traditional and I could even see some of the cock-training marathons in my head as I read and also hear the Rocky movie montage music playing in the background! Maybe that was a little disappointing, how traditional the plot is. There's not really much else to the story, which surprised me after reading both Pick-up and Wild Wives from Willeford, both of which felt anything but traditional. And obviously there's a lot of violence involving chickens, which is really hard to take at times, so if you are really sensitive about that stuff, you shouldn't read this one.
January 30, 2023
First published in 1962, Willeford’s novel Cockfighter is the story of one man and his what might be called an obsession with winning the Cockfighter of the Year award. That trophy alone would satisfy Frank Mansfield. To him, nothing else really mattered. The story opens with Frank betting everything, from his trailer to his car on a match and noting that he had no choice under custom but that pay off and walk away with nothing in his hands but an empty cage as his bird didn’t survive. He even threw in Dodi, the sixteen year old farm picker’s daughter who had run off with him and now he didn’t know quite what to do with her. Meanwhile, Frank has a fiancé at home in Ocala, one he’d been engaged to for eight years and wouldn’t marry yet though he loved her because he wouldn’t give up his vocation of fighting birds. Mary Eliazbeth wanted him to settle down with a normal job and be a husband and a father.
To further complicate matters, Willeford presents Frank as a silent man who has taken a vow of silence till he wins the Southern Tournament. He communicates by hand signals and notes. Frank is a proud man and though at one point reduced to playing guitar for money, playing the only three songs he knew, he wouldn’t take charity.
Willeford never paints Frank as a saint, but as one who had a singleminded pursuit of a goal, to the exclusion of all else. For Frank, all that really mattered was winning at the tournament and he would abide by the rules no matter the outcome. Despite this, there are many in the story eager to break the customs and to welsh on their bets, bit not Frank. He would use any edge he could get, any trick, any additive, but they had to be within the rules.
The reader here will learn more about the sport of cockfighting than the reader could imagine whether you want to hear all the gory details. At its heart, it’s a story of obsession, of singlemindedness, of all that comes with it. There’s also a sense that the sport is pure and Willeford makes fun of others who tell their stories and those who put on airs. The fact that Frank doesn’t speak leaves lots of room for people to make fools of themselves.
Willeford himself said the book is loosely tied to Homer’s Odyssey. The key here is loosely. Like Ulysses, Frank can’t get home to Ocala until he accomplishes his tasks, but the parallel is rather loose.
Willeford himself wrote the screenplay when this was turned into a movie, but it was not a commercial success.
To further complicate matters, Willeford presents Frank as a silent man who has taken a vow of silence till he wins the Southern Tournament. He communicates by hand signals and notes. Frank is a proud man and though at one point reduced to playing guitar for money, playing the only three songs he knew, he wouldn’t take charity.
Willeford never paints Frank as a saint, but as one who had a singleminded pursuit of a goal, to the exclusion of all else. For Frank, all that really mattered was winning at the tournament and he would abide by the rules no matter the outcome. Despite this, there are many in the story eager to break the customs and to welsh on their bets, bit not Frank. He would use any edge he could get, any trick, any additive, but they had to be within the rules.
The reader here will learn more about the sport of cockfighting than the reader could imagine whether you want to hear all the gory details. At its heart, it’s a story of obsession, of singlemindedness, of all that comes with it. There’s also a sense that the sport is pure and Willeford makes fun of others who tell their stories and those who put on airs. The fact that Frank doesn’t speak leaves lots of room for people to make fools of themselves.
Willeford himself said the book is loosely tied to Homer’s Odyssey. The key here is loosely. Like Ulysses, Frank can’t get home to Ocala until he accomplishes his tasks, but the parallel is rather loose.
Willeford himself wrote the screenplay when this was turned into a movie, but it was not a commercial success.
November 23, 2010
This is hands down the best Brett Favre biography ever. I was impressed by Charles Willeford's ability twenty-two years after his death to explore the competitive milieu of peen-pic texting. There is a whole subculture surrounding this primeval sport in which grown men digitize their dangle not merely to woo the female of the species but to compete against each other in those bloody, bread-and-circuses arenas known as celebrity-dong blogs. Is Favre's prize cock---with its saintly Mexican name Intercepcion---able to survive in the ring against the chanticleer of Kanye West (named Gold Digger, natch)? What are the odds that the fallen-from-grace QB can redeem himself by defeating the prodigious genital proboscis of Santonio Holmes or Greg Oden, just two of the trou-dropping athletes in recent months to go full wang-dang-doodle?
But perhaps most impressive are the strange rituals by which men gild their otherwise tumescent lilies to gain a competitive edge. Who knew that Favre takes a razor-blade to his Sandspur to carve grooves into it to give the appearance it’s more battle-scarred than it really is, thus raising the odds against him? Who knew of how underhandedly bettors themselves will break into the training routines of poor Grady Sizemore—whose name couldn’t be more Dickensian than Dickens’ own in this context—to size up his chances for taking his arch (and decidedly curved) enemy, Little David? It’s this wealth of detail that makes Willeford’s second-best book after The Burnt Orange Heresy so authoritative.
Of course, being pulp, there has to be some stock characters and impotent plotting. The femme fatale in this case is the fetching and onomatopoetically ominous Michelle Metro, who must keep Brett from leaving the business because she sells cockfighting magazines for Amazon.com. She’s hott for sure, but the world of the testicular wattle isn’t for women. The story structure is also delightfully shambolic, a byproduct of the days when you cranked out a novel in thirty days to pay your electricity bill (and to buy some pube straightener). In this case, the hero is one minute a master of his chosen domain name, only to become out of nowhere a talented mother-guitar-plucker in an episodic excursion that seems included only because that’s where the author’s narrative rod led him. There’s also a weird and wholly misplaced subplot about a shady pharmaceutical flim-flam man—probably a veiled Viagra allegory, is my guess. But in the end you forgive these structural flaws because they give the hero dimension and keep him from seeming past his prime after twenty-some seasons in the cocking leagues. In the end, that’s what we love: a beautiful loser who knows he’s no hero. Someone who probably understands a 31-3 castration by his former teammates is a sign from the gods that he’s wilted beyond repair. Willeford was awesome at capturing those type of men; and while sportscasters grouse that we indulge in “SchadenFavre” (please, critics, no more Schadenfreude riffs; retire the fucking word already and wear something else out for a while, like Ted Nugent’s favorite German catchphrase wang-dang-sweet-weltanschauung), I think what we really want is an opportunity to empathize rather than feel superior. Love the fallen; they need the stroking more than those still stiff with hubris.
But perhaps most impressive are the strange rituals by which men gild their otherwise tumescent lilies to gain a competitive edge. Who knew that Favre takes a razor-blade to his Sandspur to carve grooves into it to give the appearance it’s more battle-scarred than it really is, thus raising the odds against him? Who knew of how underhandedly bettors themselves will break into the training routines of poor Grady Sizemore—whose name couldn’t be more Dickensian than Dickens’ own in this context—to size up his chances for taking his arch (and decidedly curved) enemy, Little David? It’s this wealth of detail that makes Willeford’s second-best book after The Burnt Orange Heresy so authoritative.
Of course, being pulp, there has to be some stock characters and impotent plotting. The femme fatale in this case is the fetching and onomatopoetically ominous Michelle Metro, who must keep Brett from leaving the business because she sells cockfighting magazines for Amazon.com. She’s hott for sure, but the world of the testicular wattle isn’t for women. The story structure is also delightfully shambolic, a byproduct of the days when you cranked out a novel in thirty days to pay your electricity bill (and to buy some pube straightener). In this case, the hero is one minute a master of his chosen domain name, only to become out of nowhere a talented mother-guitar-plucker in an episodic excursion that seems included only because that’s where the author’s narrative rod led him. There’s also a weird and wholly misplaced subplot about a shady pharmaceutical flim-flam man—probably a veiled Viagra allegory, is my guess. But in the end you forgive these structural flaws because they give the hero dimension and keep him from seeming past his prime after twenty-some seasons in the cocking leagues. In the end, that’s what we love: a beautiful loser who knows he’s no hero. Someone who probably understands a 31-3 castration by his former teammates is a sign from the gods that he’s wilted beyond repair. Willeford was awesome at capturing those type of men; and while sportscasters grouse that we indulge in “SchadenFavre” (please, critics, no more Schadenfreude riffs; retire the fucking word already and wear something else out for a while, like Ted Nugent’s favorite German catchphrase wang-dang-sweet-weltanschauung), I think what we really want is an opportunity to empathize rather than feel superior. Love the fallen; they need the stroking more than those still stiff with hubris.
October 7, 2016
Fascinating and unique, pure Willeford, with a hint of Jim Thompson about things. How often can you tell people that you are reading a first person narrative of a voluntarily mute cockfighter? It's incredibly well written, and never what I anticipated. Frank Mansfield is an arsehole, one hundred percent, almost Reacher-esque in his sad white man wish fulfilment nature, always right, always better than anyone else he comes in contact with, and complete with Sam Allardyce levels of hubris that I felt sure this would be an unreliable narrator who gets his comeuppence come the final chapter. And yet he is such a good window in to this entirely alien world and lifestyle, and me with my own collection of hens too. I've seen the Warren Oates movie thanks to some fine fellow on this website sending me a copy but I can't remember much of this book being in it. Both are highly enjoyable entertainment in their own right however.
May 18, 2017
I wouldn't know how to classify this novel if anyone asked me to. I don't think I could even summarize it in a way that would encourage others to read it. There isn't much of a plot as there is an episodic account of a top tier cockfighter's journey in and around Florida in the early 70's in his pursuit to qualify for a huge cockfighting tournament where he hopes to win the Cockfighter of the Year award. You get to ride along as our hero deals with losing everything in the opening chapters, to chasing down old debts, running into old girlfriends, running into new girlfriends, and acquiring a new partner all in the space of a few months. You also learn a lot about cockfighting along the way. It's the kind of novel I really like because it's so different. Had such a novel been written today by a flashier writer it would have been soaked in lurid hues of violence. Not so in Willeford's novel.
February 12, 2021
The Moby Dick of noir crime novels.
Read
May 16, 2022Regrettably, I will not be reading this. I was hoping the title was not literal, or at least that there would be less animal abuse..
July 30, 2013
Books like Cockfighter remind me of how I came to love literature in the first place. It offers a wonderful sense of being transported to an entirely different place, seeing the world through the eyes of others and then ensuring that I’m so captivated by a series of events that all I want to do in life at a given moment (well, most given moments) is return to the next page.
The quote at the beginning of the book is from Ezra Pound – “What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it.” There’s plenty of depth in evidence here as protagonist Frank takes the reader into the life of a serious cockfighter.
Frank is such a passionate man that he’s vowed, unbeknownst to anyone else, to remain silent until he gains the coveted mark of respect that is the silver medal that marks someone out as the cock handler of the year (sniggers really don’t fit on this occasion!). He explains himself a little here:
‘No one, other than myself, knew about my vow, and I could have broken it at any time without losing face. But I would know, and I had to shave every day.”
That last phrase is the kind of poetic turn that give the story an extra edge – Willeford allows his character to tell his tale without relying on the mundane.
When we meet Frank, he’s on the cusp of losing everything – his money, his last fighting bird, his car and his trailer home – on one fight with an old adversary. It’s a hugely dramatic opening and, at risk of spoiling that drama (look away now) it ends up with Frank leaving the pit with only $10, a coop, a few clothes and a guitar.
Given a lift by an old friend who has been forced to retire, he’s offered the chance to buy the perfect bird, Icarus, for the hugely inflated sum of $500. Frank has a choice – to promise to buy the bird or to give up the game and return home to marry his patient, conservative fiancée. Frank’s passion means there’s only one option and he sets off to find the money he needs.
What follows is the engrossing sequence of events that will lead up to Frank having the chance to make his personal dream come true.
Cockfighter reads like a novel from the depression era, but is set in the 1960s. In some ways, it points to the hangover of values that are old-fashioned in ways that might be seen as good and bad. Frank has his own mixture of values, and his own liberal(ish) views are often contradicted by his animal self or by society. Race and gender are particular areas of interest here.
He holds strong opinions on the nature of work and the illusions created by a capitalist society. When looking for a job, he comments:
‘The majority of the situations that were open in the agate columns were for salesmen. And a man who can’t talk can’t sell anything.’
Or on bigger dreams:
‘I liked the man for what he was and respected him for what he was trying to be. But unlike me, Doc lived with a dream that was practically unattainable. All I wanted to be was the best cockfighter who had ever lived. Doc, who had already reached his late fifties, wanted to be a big time capitalist and financier.’
The series of adventures in the book are brilliantly told. There’s a wonderful use of dramatic tension which left me hungry to find out what would happen next. When the final full stop was reached, my appetite was entirely satisfied.
Here’s a book the likes of which I wish I could write myself. Given the talent on show and my own limitations that’s very unlikely, but just like Frank I don’t see the harm in setting such a high goal. Maybe I should take a vow of silence; if nothing else I suspect my wife and colleagues would be happier that way.
Tremendous.
The quote at the beginning of the book is from Ezra Pound – “What matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it.” There’s plenty of depth in evidence here as protagonist Frank takes the reader into the life of a serious cockfighter.
Frank is such a passionate man that he’s vowed, unbeknownst to anyone else, to remain silent until he gains the coveted mark of respect that is the silver medal that marks someone out as the cock handler of the year (sniggers really don’t fit on this occasion!). He explains himself a little here:
‘No one, other than myself, knew about my vow, and I could have broken it at any time without losing face. But I would know, and I had to shave every day.”
That last phrase is the kind of poetic turn that give the story an extra edge – Willeford allows his character to tell his tale without relying on the mundane.
When we meet Frank, he’s on the cusp of losing everything – his money, his last fighting bird, his car and his trailer home – on one fight with an old adversary. It’s a hugely dramatic opening and, at risk of spoiling that drama (look away now) it ends up with Frank leaving the pit with only $10, a coop, a few clothes and a guitar.
Given a lift by an old friend who has been forced to retire, he’s offered the chance to buy the perfect bird, Icarus, for the hugely inflated sum of $500. Frank has a choice – to promise to buy the bird or to give up the game and return home to marry his patient, conservative fiancée. Frank’s passion means there’s only one option and he sets off to find the money he needs.
What follows is the engrossing sequence of events that will lead up to Frank having the chance to make his personal dream come true.
Cockfighter reads like a novel from the depression era, but is set in the 1960s. In some ways, it points to the hangover of values that are old-fashioned in ways that might be seen as good and bad. Frank has his own mixture of values, and his own liberal(ish) views are often contradicted by his animal self or by society. Race and gender are particular areas of interest here.
He holds strong opinions on the nature of work and the illusions created by a capitalist society. When looking for a job, he comments:
‘The majority of the situations that were open in the agate columns were for salesmen. And a man who can’t talk can’t sell anything.’
Or on bigger dreams:
‘I liked the man for what he was and respected him for what he was trying to be. But unlike me, Doc lived with a dream that was practically unattainable. All I wanted to be was the best cockfighter who had ever lived. Doc, who had already reached his late fifties, wanted to be a big time capitalist and financier.’
The series of adventures in the book are brilliantly told. There’s a wonderful use of dramatic tension which left me hungry to find out what would happen next. When the final full stop was reached, my appetite was entirely satisfied.
Here’s a book the likes of which I wish I could write myself. Given the talent on show and my own limitations that’s very unlikely, but just like Frank I don’t see the harm in setting such a high goal. Maybe I should take a vow of silence; if nothing else I suspect my wife and colleagues would be happier that way.
Tremendous.
August 16, 2010
On pure technique, writing style and ability to portray a culture, this book should get five stars. But while the shop talk about cockfighting is amazingly detailed and impressive, I could give a rat's ass about cockfighting. I never would have read a book with that much shop talk about anything, though admittedly I loved Gun Work by David J. Schow, so I guess I'm a hypocrite. I also find it kind of hard to take the violence involving animals. Last but far from least, this is not a noir or a crime novel; it's a down-and-outer type novel, and a great portrait of a certain culture in the South. But I was kinda looking for a crime novel, and when I got to the end and nobody'd gotten their head blown off, I was a bit disappointed.
To be fair, I love Willeford's The Burnt Orange Heresy and that has a murder that seems to be there for no reason other than to make it a crime novel (presumably so he could sell it) and it feels fairly random, with a disappointing ending. So I'm glad he didn't do that here. On its own terms, Cockfighter is a stronger novel than Heresy. There's just kind of a lot of cockfighting in it.
To be fair, I love Willeford's The Burnt Orange Heresy and that has a murder that seems to be there for no reason other than to make it a crime novel (presumably so he could sell it) and it feels fairly random, with a disappointing ending. So I'm glad he didn't do that here. On its own terms, Cockfighter is a stronger novel than Heresy. There's just kind of a lot of cockfighting in it.
November 8, 2019
When this was first published in 1962 the ancient blood sport of cockfighting was on its last legs in the US, only still legal in Louisiana and New Mexico. Yet Willeford’s novel has gained admiration and a cult status by far more than just the aficionados of the sport, and that is his huge achievement. Another, is that it has aged so well. Frank Mansfield is a smart guy in his early thirties whose one great passion is cockfighting. It takes place in Florida and Georgia, where a couple of years previously, Frank came within a whisker of winning the "little silver coin, not quite as large as a Kennedy half-dollar" - awarded to the Southern Conference Tournament's Cockfighter of the Year. ( "the ultimate achievement in one of the toughest sports in the world”). ‘Silent Frank’, as he is known, has made a self-imposed vow of silence, until he wins that “little silver medal”, and communicates by gestures and signs, irritated by finding himself on the receiving end of “personal confidences and long sad stories”. Willeford writes boldly and with sympathy for his flawed hero and the sport - the reader initially can see only see as barbarism and cruelty, a revulsion for those involved, is steadily won over by this wonderful writing; a fine example of the power of great literature.
December 21, 2021
The idea of the down and out sportsman/fighter/trainer on a path to everlasting glory is not very new, but Willeford of course goes his own way with it and makes it very entertaining (and informative). I loved all the detail concerning the sport of cockfighting and the settings as Frank travels around the American south getting back on his feet and preparing for The Big One all feel authentic. Frank's relationship with his family and the women in his life are detached, approaching the verge of sociopathy, but it highlights the singlemindedness of his pursuit. The entanglement he picks up with a wealthy widower and his would be fiance works itself out in only the most logical fashion.
Oh, and dozens of chickens fight to the death. But if you ask me, if I was a chicken I'd prefer to die like that than in any one of the hundreds of chicken nugget factories out there.
Oh, and dozens of chickens fight to the death. But if you ask me, if I was a chicken I'd prefer to die like that than in any one of the hundreds of chicken nugget factories out there.
March 21, 2013
This sounds very Michael Vick-ish but, this book seems like a "how-to" ghost written by someone I knew. For reasons I cannot disclose here, I will not comment further for fear of being ironically tarred and feathered, and pelted by chicken feed. Thanks for the recommend Mike !
December 31, 2011
If I hadn't gleefully abandoned all scholarly pursuits some years ago, I'd be pretty tempted to become the preeminent Willeford scholar. My all time favorite literary pattern is the hero's journey (up top, Joseph C) and Cockfighter is more-or-less Willeford's spin on The Odyssey. And I don't think he was necessarily being shy about it. I mean, come on, there's a chicken named Icarus. (Also, there's a chicken called Little David that I'm preeeeeeeeetty sure was the inspiration for Little Jerry.) (Edited to add: Yes, Chris, I know Icarus is not in the Odyssey but, you know, mythology and stuff.)
The plot structure to this book is more traditional than those in his other books that I've read so far. There's a man with a goal who sets out on a quest, and unlike Hoke--who gets sidetracked often--Frank Mansfield sticks with his boon of becoming Cockfighter of the Year. This is what drives him, and he doesn't get distracted; every move he makes is done with the goal of winning that title. Like in every good hero's journey there is plenty along the way meant to mislead and tempt him away from his mission, but he isn't swayed for long. Maybe because I've read some of Willeford's other books where characters are more reactionary and the plot jumps according to their whims, but the ending of this almost caught me off guard because it's sort of exactly what you see coming. But it's still pretty awesome.
It took me a little longer to get into this book--I think mostly I had to warm up to Frank (hard to replace Hoke in my heart)--but once I got about 100 pages in, I couldn't put it down.
The plot structure to this book is more traditional than those in his other books that I've read so far. There's a man with a goal who sets out on a quest, and unlike Hoke--who gets sidetracked often--Frank Mansfield sticks with his boon of becoming Cockfighter of the Year. This is what drives him, and he doesn't get distracted; every move he makes is done with the goal of winning that title. Like in every good hero's journey there is plenty along the way meant to mislead and tempt him away from his mission, but he isn't swayed for long. Maybe because I've read some of Willeford's other books where characters are more reactionary and the plot jumps according to their whims, but the ending of this almost caught me off guard because it's sort of exactly what you see coming. But it's still pretty awesome.
It took me a little longer to get into this book--I think mostly I had to warm up to Frank (hard to replace Hoke in my heart)--but once I got about 100 pages in, I couldn't put it down.
October 8, 2019
Meet Frank Mansfield selectively mute war veteran and a Cockfighter. Reason of his muteness is the vow that he made with himself to stay mute until he would win the prize of "Best Cockfighter of Year".
I came across this novel when I was searching for a specific documentary about cockfighting in Asian countries. I found it compellingly readable and it reminded into my to-read list for more than a year.
I think this novel would be more enjoyable if reader has a slight knowledge about cockfighting bloodsport. I enjoyed a brief time of cockfighting but the professionalism I found in this book beyond expectation.
Frank Mansfield represents the theme of obsession and emotional intensity towards cockfighting a person can have. Evidently it's more than sports for some people. Willford had been appointed in Philippine and I can think that the inspiration for this novel could have been from keen observation of the game.
I came across this novel when I was searching for a specific documentary about cockfighting in Asian countries. I found it compellingly readable and it reminded into my to-read list for more than a year.
I think this novel would be more enjoyable if reader has a slight knowledge about cockfighting bloodsport. I enjoyed a brief time of cockfighting but the professionalism I found in this book beyond expectation.
Frank Mansfield represents the theme of obsession and emotional intensity towards cockfighting a person can have. Evidently it's more than sports for some people. Willford had been appointed in Philippine and I can think that the inspiration for this novel could have been from keen observation of the game.
September 19, 2023
If you're ready for raw, this book has it. Raw feelings, raw action and raw description. In one sense it is a story of a sexist dude with issues. Unexpectedly it is also a history and training manual: a guide to cockfighting. Obviously the author loves the sport, he leaves his heart on the page.
Cockfighting is the only sport that can’t be fixed, perhaps the only fair contest left in America. A cock wouldn’t throw a fight and couldn’t if he knew how.Who knew that George Washington was into cockfighting? There are lots of these little curveballs. The last thing I expected to see in this book was a quote from an Indian poet from 320 BC. This quirkiness gives the thing its flavor. That and paradox:
A gamecock is the most stupid creature on earth and, paradoxically, the most intelligent fighter.If you can handle gore and casual sexism, I recommend this book. I see why Elmore Leonard rates Willeford as a writer, it reads like a dream.
January 24, 2012
The Cockfighter, obviously, is about a man who trains chickens for fights that often end in death of one or both animals, thus, it is not for everyone. It is a subculture I knew very little about, but thanks to this novel, I now know a lot about after following the exploits of the protagonist Frank Mansfield. In fact, it could be said to be the "Moby Dick" of cockfighting novels in that there are several sections that discuss the intricacies of the cockfighting trade as well as the conditioning of the birds. It was one of the elements that I found engaging in Miami Blues as well-I was able to immerse myself in the southern culture of Miami and Miami Beach-places that I had never set foot in myself. The same can be said of this novel. I was able to inhabit the southern cockfighting tour and share the triumphs and setbacks of the eccentric protagonist Frank Mansfield whose one and only goal in life is to be the cockfighter of the year. This is a similarity between Hoke Mosely (from Miami Blues) and Frank Mansfield they are driven to succeed and be the best they can in their respective professions almost to the exclusion of other aspects of their lives. Willeford is a master of creating believable and unusual characters in his novels and I look forward to inhabiting his world of fiction in future novels as well.
September 7, 2021
I read this on the recommendation of Dwight Garner and was expecting a serious deconstruction of masculinity, the allure of violence, the primal joy of bloodlust, and the "a rolling stone carries no moss" nomadic lifestyle of the devoted but was instead treated to a pretty standard version of the Hero's Quest. To my surprise, I actually preferred the book that I got. Frank Mansfield is a compelling main character and his muteness was an authorial stroke of genius. It kept him somehow unknowable to the reader, keeping us off-balance in a world where everybody we met on the journey with him knew more about our guide than we did. The training and fighting violence is extreme without being gratuitous or embellished - just the kind of discomfort that I look for in novels, the kind that makes me think about things that I don't think about without prompt and will never experience on my own
I liked "Cockfighter" a lot (just shy of loving it) but can tell that it's a book that will feel like a favorite in memory
I liked "Cockfighter" a lot (just shy of loving it) but can tell that it's a book that will feel like a favorite in memory
September 19, 2009
Fast, sure, with Ocala dirt under its cracked, yellowed fingernails ... whatever you think of the milieu, it feels "lived-in," with vivid, genuine, expertly drawn characters.
April 30, 2022
Imagine a book about that one part of Final Fantasy 7 where you had to raise and race chocobos but written for Boomers. This awful narrator is all about codes of honor and fairness. It's sickening. A boss gives him a little too much money for what he thinks would be a fair wage so he gives half of it back! Then, when a woman gives him too much money for basically being a gigolo, he finds something of his that is roughly equal to the extra money - and destroys it! He says that if he feeds his cocks enough food it would have the effect on them that the welfare state would have on mankind. Not shitting you, that is literally in there almost verbatim. But lamest of all is the real reason you can tell it's about cockfighting - since you can't really throw a match, it's the fairest betting sport there is. Willeford goes to great pains to lay down rigid rules for this world so that he can delight in humiliating anyone who is a cheat. And of course our boy Frank humiliates all the cheats! As he stays slow and steady, our main character says he doesn't win because of luck, he wins because of experience and practice. A homily for the meritocracy! He can reconcile himself to being a no good sonofabitch because he at least doesn't have to work in an office like a peckerhead - he's his own boss!
Imagine a pulp novel written for complete squares (no, not a YA novel...) and this is your book.
Imagine a pulp novel written for complete squares (no, not a YA novel...) and this is your book.
September 29, 2013
#19 from willeford for me.
update, finished, 12 sep 13, thursday evening, 10:17 p.m.
so i'm reading along, right, enjoying the story, considering my response here...my take. and willeford hits you right between the eyes. if you are one of those who are so focking tired of the fashionable ideology, willeford hits you right square between the eyes right at the end of this, and bang! this is a favorite. if you are so focking tired of the fashionable focking elite dictating to you this that the other focking thing, here, read this. may it do ya fine.
and...i realize that there are some who think anything you, the gentle reader, say about a story is a dreaded spoiler.
consider this: did i read some place here that some consider this "autobiographical"? yes. i think i read that. this is fiction. meh, an aside.
but gawd-almighty i love it when mary elizabeth calls frank mansfield a hateful man, you hate everything, yourself, me, the world, everybody! and that praise jesus now and forevermore is part and parcel of the fashionable ideology that pisses me off no end. mary elizabeth does not have a clue, she has chosen to not have a clue and she has elected and voiced that opinion about frank mansfield, her fiancee, there at the end and if that does not echo our world, my world, then nothing does.
fact. there are some that do not have a clue. but they have chosen, now and forevermore, to have an opinion about that which they have no clue about. and they have elected to give voice to that choice and have made it so. frank? he's headed to puerto rico with bernice. heh!
ha ha ha ha ha! gawd i love it.
what's amazing about this story is that frank mansfield does not have a voice. he has chosen to remain silent, this vow he has taken upon himself, and he has chosen not to speak. heh! yeah, tommyknockers aren't much into metaphor, either! imagine writing this, you got your main character, he isn't going to say word one throughout. obstacles? you think!
index later, gator.
a dedication
for mary jo
a quote on a white page:
what matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it.
--ezra pound
time place scene setting
*belle glade, florida, a trailer rented by the eye-narrator, scene opener, captain mack's trailer camp
*frank's mobile love-lee-mobile home
*his old caddy
*various cock-fighting pits around the south, furthest north in tennessee, furthest west...in louisiana maybe...or alabama/mississippi. georgia, florida
*various bus stations...hotels...restaurants
*judge brantley powell's house
*mansfield, georgia, a farm there
*a purina feed store
*various farms throughout the south
*sealbach hotel, milledgeville, georgia
characters
*eye-narrator, frank mansfield, cockfighter, 32-yr-old, has a farm in or near ocala, florida. there is also a section that describes how frank purchased a guitar from an uncle and taught himself to play, how he developed his own unique style of play
*dody white, a 16-yr-old living w/frank at opener...later, she winds up (on a bet) w/another man, jack burke...and they got married
*ed middleton, cockfighter, early 60s, wife wants him to quot cockfighting, sell his cocks, etc
*martha middleton, his wife
*jack burke, cockfighter
*accordion-necked fruit tramp
*little david, cock of jack burke
*dody's parents...she is 1 of 5 children
*an old-timer collecting an entrance fee
*captain mack...florida trooper...a pretty woman sat on the front seat
*a couple of dade county financiers
*a scattering of belle glade townspeople
*2 gamblers from miami
*ralph hansen, one of 2 of burke's handlers
*a machinist in valdosta
*the other handler was in the truck bed
*doc riordan, dr. onyx p. riordan...maker of licarbo, a kind of antacid
*younger brother, randall...frank's younger brother
*mary elizabeth gaylord, frank's almost wife, 29-yr-old, wants frank to marry her...they've been doing it for years at this swim spot called the place. she is a teacher of english. she lives on a farm with her brother, wright gaylord and his wife
*senator jacob foxhall...a man instrumental in promoting cockfighting...was a state senator
*icarus...name of a special cock that frank buys from ed middleton
*judge brantley powell/old lawyer
*wright gaylord, frank's fiancee's brother...married to
*francis shelby, a dentist's daughter from macon
*old dusty, a dog frank had
*omar baradinsky, frank's neighbor in ocala, florida...a former big wig lawyer type from new york city...still married to a woman who visits one week a year, conjugal type visits...and omar has been trying to break into the cock-fighting culture. he can't, though. he teams up w/frank. or wait now. he was an advertising guy. big bucks.
*ducky winters, manager of the purina feed store
*virgil dietch,
*pete chocolate
*bandy taylor
*dirty jacques boniin, biloxi
*milan peeples, son tom...and there's an impormptu cockfight at the man's farm, the floor slick from paint or something i forget exactly
*fred reed
*john mccoy and colonel bob moore...texas
*buddy waggoner
*peach owen
*sol p. mccall, originated the modern tournament
*tom doyle
*a host of other minor, window-dressing characters. ..like "various farmers"... and "a carload of arsenal employees"..."a georgia highway patrolman"
*leroy and mary bondwell...who look after omar
*tex higdon, reporter for american gamefowl quarterly
*baldy allen, columbus georgia
*johnny norris, roy whipple, chattanooga
*charley smith, negro tenant
*his wife, aunt leona
*the james boys...a band that headlines where frank gets a temp job playing the three songs he knows...tiny james, the bass player
*aimee, our negro cook in the kitchen
*bernice and tommy hungerford...frank takes up w/bernice...a well-to-do woman...at the end after mary elizabeth gives him the shaft
*
a quote or two
if a man accepts life logically, the unexpected is actually the expected.
some americana/folklore that is repeated in other willeford stories
he couldn't have caught a pig in a trench
update, finished, 12 sep 13, thursday evening, 10:17 p.m.
so i'm reading along, right, enjoying the story, considering my response here...my take. and willeford hits you right between the eyes. if you are one of those who are so focking tired of the fashionable ideology, willeford hits you right square between the eyes right at the end of this, and bang! this is a favorite. if you are so focking tired of the fashionable focking elite dictating to you this that the other focking thing, here, read this. may it do ya fine.
and...i realize that there are some who think anything you, the gentle reader, say about a story is a dreaded spoiler.
consider this: did i read some place here that some consider this "autobiographical"? yes. i think i read that. this is fiction. meh, an aside.
but gawd-almighty i love it when mary elizabeth calls frank mansfield a hateful man, you hate everything, yourself, me, the world, everybody! and that praise jesus now and forevermore is part and parcel of the fashionable ideology that pisses me off no end. mary elizabeth does not have a clue, she has chosen to not have a clue and she has elected and voiced that opinion about frank mansfield, her fiancee, there at the end and if that does not echo our world, my world, then nothing does.
fact. there are some that do not have a clue. but they have chosen, now and forevermore, to have an opinion about that which they have no clue about. and they have elected to give voice to that choice and have made it so. frank? he's headed to puerto rico with bernice. heh!
ha ha ha ha ha! gawd i love it.
what's amazing about this story is that frank mansfield does not have a voice. he has chosen to remain silent, this vow he has taken upon himself, and he has chosen not to speak. heh! yeah, tommyknockers aren't much into metaphor, either! imagine writing this, you got your main character, he isn't going to say word one throughout. obstacles? you think!
index later, gator.
a dedication
for mary jo
a quote on a white page:
what matters is not the idea a man holds, but the depth at which he holds it.
--ezra pound
time place scene setting
*belle glade, florida, a trailer rented by the eye-narrator, scene opener, captain mack's trailer camp
*frank's mobile love-lee-mobile home
*his old caddy
*various cock-fighting pits around the south, furthest north in tennessee, furthest west...in louisiana maybe...or alabama/mississippi. georgia, florida
*various bus stations...hotels...restaurants
*judge brantley powell's house
*mansfield, georgia, a farm there
*a purina feed store
*various farms throughout the south
*sealbach hotel, milledgeville, georgia
characters
*eye-narrator, frank mansfield, cockfighter, 32-yr-old, has a farm in or near ocala, florida. there is also a section that describes how frank purchased a guitar from an uncle and taught himself to play, how he developed his own unique style of play
*dody white, a 16-yr-old living w/frank at opener...later, she winds up (on a bet) w/another man, jack burke...and they got married
*ed middleton, cockfighter, early 60s, wife wants him to quot cockfighting, sell his cocks, etc
*martha middleton, his wife
*jack burke, cockfighter
*accordion-necked fruit tramp
*little david, cock of jack burke
*dody's parents...she is 1 of 5 children
*an old-timer collecting an entrance fee
*captain mack...florida trooper...a pretty woman sat on the front seat
*a couple of dade county financiers
*a scattering of belle glade townspeople
*2 gamblers from miami
*ralph hansen, one of 2 of burke's handlers
*a machinist in valdosta
*the other handler was in the truck bed
*doc riordan, dr. onyx p. riordan...maker of licarbo, a kind of antacid
*younger brother, randall...frank's younger brother
*mary elizabeth gaylord, frank's almost wife, 29-yr-old, wants frank to marry her...they've been doing it for years at this swim spot called the place. she is a teacher of english. she lives on a farm with her brother, wright gaylord and his wife
*senator jacob foxhall...a man instrumental in promoting cockfighting...was a state senator
*icarus...name of a special cock that frank buys from ed middleton
*judge brantley powell/old lawyer
*wright gaylord, frank's fiancee's brother...married to
*francis shelby, a dentist's daughter from macon
*old dusty, a dog frank had
*omar baradinsky, frank's neighbor in ocala, florida...a former big wig lawyer type from new york city...still married to a woman who visits one week a year, conjugal type visits...and omar has been trying to break into the cock-fighting culture. he can't, though. he teams up w/frank. or wait now. he was an advertising guy. big bucks.
*ducky winters, manager of the purina feed store
*virgil dietch,
*pete chocolate
*bandy taylor
*dirty jacques boniin, biloxi
*milan peeples, son tom...and there's an impormptu cockfight at the man's farm, the floor slick from paint or something i forget exactly
*fred reed
*john mccoy and colonel bob moore...texas
*buddy waggoner
*peach owen
*sol p. mccall, originated the modern tournament
*tom doyle
*a host of other minor, window-dressing characters. ..like "various farmers"... and "a carload of arsenal employees"..."a georgia highway patrolman"
*leroy and mary bondwell...who look after omar
*tex higdon, reporter for american gamefowl quarterly
*baldy allen, columbus georgia
*johnny norris, roy whipple, chattanooga
*charley smith, negro tenant
*his wife, aunt leona
*the james boys...a band that headlines where frank gets a temp job playing the three songs he knows...tiny james, the bass player
*aimee, our negro cook in the kitchen
*bernice and tommy hungerford...frank takes up w/bernice...a well-to-do woman...at the end after mary elizabeth gives him the shaft
*
a quote or two
if a man accepts life logically, the unexpected is actually the expected.
some americana/folklore that is repeated in other willeford stories
he couldn't have caught a pig in a trench
May 4, 2021
Hace un año más o menos me terminé el “Conde de Montecristo” y desde entonces buscaba un libro parecido: uno de esos que "te cambian la vida". “Cockfigther” es lo más parecido que he encontrado.
El protagonista se parece a Edmundo Dantés en su determinación, moral recta, inteligencia, etcétera, pero también tiene ese poco de personaje canalla tipo Jim Thompson (como el alcalde de Nick Corey de "1280 almas"; no en vano, entre las recomendaciones de Goodreads) que lo hace más cercano y creíble.
Igual porque el protagonista y yo tenemos la misma edad; o porque nos unen algunas circunstancias y defectos, me ha hecho empatizar con Manfield en mucho. Sobre todo, por su enorme integridad dentro lo inmoral de sus acciones. Y es que…, menudo hombre. Las escenas con la guitarra, la relación con el hermano pequeño, su relación con sus distintos aliados o némesis gallistas, las mujeres. No creo que dé con personajes muchos mejores este año.
El protagonista se parece a Edmundo Dantés en su determinación, moral recta, inteligencia, etcétera, pero también tiene ese poco de personaje canalla tipo Jim Thompson (como el alcalde de Nick Corey de "1280 almas"; no en vano, entre las recomendaciones de Goodreads) que lo hace más cercano y creíble.
Igual porque el protagonista y yo tenemos la misma edad; o porque nos unen algunas circunstancias y defectos, me ha hecho empatizar con Manfield en mucho. Sobre todo, por su enorme integridad dentro lo inmoral de sus acciones. Y es que…, menudo hombre. Las escenas con la guitarra, la relación con el hermano pequeño, su relación con sus distintos aliados o némesis gallistas, las mujeres. No creo que dé con personajes muchos mejores este año.
Read
August 1, 2022This novel is a rancid slice of male chauvinism, a stodgy and relentlessly dour examination of a mute cockfighter's pursuit of glory that is as pathetic as it is tedious.
Even at 200 pages, this novel is exhausting. This is labeled as crime fiction, but it's more of a character study-and not an interesting one. Willeford employs his incredibly stiff, aphoristic register to constantly wax poetic about the real meaning of life as a man, mannn, how women wouldn't understand the glory of animal abuse, duuuude, how women need to cook for men to have purpose, broooo, how this 15-year-old girl is a good lay but I need to abandon her because she won't shut up, mannn, how this stupid woman thinks she knows art but only men know about Beethoven, duuuude. Disgusting, pretentious claptrap that is nauseating and boring in equal measure.
This shit is for the birds. Pun intended.
Even at 200 pages, this novel is exhausting. This is labeled as crime fiction, but it's more of a character study-and not an interesting one. Willeford employs his incredibly stiff, aphoristic register to constantly wax poetic about the real meaning of life as a man, mannn, how women wouldn't understand the glory of animal abuse, duuuude, how women need to cook for men to have purpose, broooo, how this 15-year-old girl is a good lay but I need to abandon her because she won't shut up, mannn, how this stupid woman thinks she knows art but only men know about Beethoven, duuuude. Disgusting, pretentious claptrap that is nauseating and boring in equal measure.
This shit is for the birds. Pun intended.
July 17, 2018
Nobody writes like Mr. Willeford.
Read
April 22, 2012"As far back as 320 B.C. an old poet named Chanakya wrote that a man can learn four things from a cock: To fight, to get up early, to eat with his family, and to protect his spouse when she gets into trouble. I had learned how to fight and how to get up early, but I had never gotten along too well with my family and I didn't have any spouse to protect. Fighting was all very well, but getting up early was not the most desirable habit to have when living in a big city like Jacksonville [FL]." pg. 416
"Unlike most American sportsmen, the cockfighting fan has an overwhelming tendency to become an active participant. There is no such thing as a passive interest in cockfighting. Beginning as a casual onlooker, a man soon finds the action of two game cocks battling to the death a fascinating spectacle. He either likes it or he doesn't. If he doesn't like it, he doesn't return to watch another fight. If he does like it, he accepts, sooner or later, everything about the sport - the good with the bad.
"As the fan gradually learns to tell one game strain from another, he admires the vain beauty of a game rooster. Admiration leads to the desire to possess one of these beautiful creatures for his very own, and pride of ownership leads to the pitting of his pet against another game cock. Whether he wins or loses, once the fan has got as far as pitting, he is as hooked as a ghetto mainliner." pg.493
"Members of the cockfighting fraternity are from all walks of life. There are men like myself, from good Southern families, sharecroppers, businessmen, loafers on the county relief rolls, Jews, and Holy Rollers. If there is one single thing in the world, more than all the others, preserving the tradition of the sport of cocking for thousands of years, it's the spirit of democracy. In a letter to General Lafayette, George Washington wrote, 'It will be worth coming back to the United States, if only to be present at an election and a cocking main at which is displayed a spirit of anarchy and confusion, which no countryman of yours can understand.' I carried a clipping of this letter, which had been reprinted in a game fowl magazine, in my wallet. I had told Mary Elizabeth [my fiance] once that George Washington and Alexander Hamilton had both been cockfighters during the colonial period, but she had been unimpressed. Nonetheless, cockfighters are still the most democratic group of men in the United States." pg.497
"Unlike most American sportsmen, the cockfighting fan has an overwhelming tendency to become an active participant. There is no such thing as a passive interest in cockfighting. Beginning as a casual onlooker, a man soon finds the action of two game cocks battling to the death a fascinating spectacle. He either likes it or he doesn't. If he doesn't like it, he doesn't return to watch another fight. If he does like it, he accepts, sooner or later, everything about the sport - the good with the bad.
"As the fan gradually learns to tell one game strain from another, he admires the vain beauty of a game rooster. Admiration leads to the desire to possess one of these beautiful creatures for his very own, and pride of ownership leads to the pitting of his pet against another game cock. Whether he wins or loses, once the fan has got as far as pitting, he is as hooked as a ghetto mainliner." pg.493
"Members of the cockfighting fraternity are from all walks of life. There are men like myself, from good Southern families, sharecroppers, businessmen, loafers on the county relief rolls, Jews, and Holy Rollers. If there is one single thing in the world, more than all the others, preserving the tradition of the sport of cocking for thousands of years, it's the spirit of democracy. In a letter to General Lafayette, George Washington wrote, 'It will be worth coming back to the United States, if only to be present at an election and a cocking main at which is displayed a spirit of anarchy and confusion, which no countryman of yours can understand.' I carried a clipping of this letter, which had been reprinted in a game fowl magazine, in my wallet. I had told Mary Elizabeth [my fiance] once that George Washington and Alexander Hamilton had both been cockfighters during the colonial period, but she had been unimpressed. Nonetheless, cockfighters are still the most democratic group of men in the United States." pg.497
September 7, 2011
Cockfighter is the third Willeford I've read, and the common denominator among them, beyond their dark and subversive bent, are protagonists who lead their lives with absolute confidence and certainty, even if those lives may be wicked. The narrator, "Silent" Frank Mansfield, believes wholeheartedly in the dignified tradition of cockfighting, despite the practice being illegal in 49 states and leading him to constant personal and economic ruin. Willeford reveals this underground culture in punishing, almost fetishistic detail, with long passages describing the action in the pits and harrowing glimpses into Frank's training methods and gambits to increase his odds. Frank refuses to break from his chosen path: His commitment to winning The Cockfighter of the Year medal is so single-minded that he takes a personal vow of silence until he reaches his goal, causing him years of hardship and souring his relationships. The reader might find him narrow, disturbed, even psychotic, but Willeford plays it straight to the gloriously hard-bitten end.
June 13, 2011
Saw this on the "Approval Matrix" on the back page of the May 30th New York magazine that some left at a party at my house. It seems to promise a Nathanial West like ride and I am looking forward to it.
****
Well it wasn't Nathanial West and not quite Jim Thompson. Willeford does a great job at exposing the intricacies of raising and fighting gamecocks. The protagonist, Frank Mansfield, is the sort of male lead that we can expect from this sort of book. He is self made, self confident, without much compassion and totally clueless about women. Mansfield is good at fighting chickens, playing music and not much else. The plot of the book is small and there are few twists or turns to the narrative. I kept hoping that there would be some sort of caper but it never developed.
If you like Thompson-esque reads this would work for you but don't count on it going much beyond the sport of cockfighting.
****
Well it wasn't Nathanial West and not quite Jim Thompson. Willeford does a great job at exposing the intricacies of raising and fighting gamecocks. The protagonist, Frank Mansfield, is the sort of male lead that we can expect from this sort of book. He is self made, self confident, without much compassion and totally clueless about women. Mansfield is good at fighting chickens, playing music and not much else. The plot of the book is small and there are few twists or turns to the narrative. I kept hoping that there would be some sort of caper but it never developed.
If you like Thompson-esque reads this would work for you but don't count on it going much beyond the sport of cockfighting.
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