I've been on a GR hiatus, so bear with me as I ease back into things. Some of these reviews will be short since some time has passed since my reading.I've been on a GR hiatus, so bear with me as I ease back into things. Some of these reviews will be short since some time has passed since my reading.
Shannon Burke's "Into the Savage Country" is an impressive historical novel that occupies a very similar time, place, and subject as "The Revenant." In fact, if you keep your eyes peeled, you'll even see a few of the same characters (Hugh Glass, Jim Bridger). But they're only peripheral characters. The main actors are a young trio (William Wyeth, W.A. Ferris, and Henry Layton) of aspiring mountain men and fur trappers. Another major figure, Alene Chevalier, a French-Indian tanner of hides, is the novel long love interest of Wyeth, who is the teller of tale.
The story is historically well grounded, and real events such as the competition between American and British fur companies are a major part of the story. That said, the novel never really feels like an historical novel. That's because Burke brings all the main characters to life. These are not cardboard characters. For example, Arlene is both calculating and caring. The calculating is for survival, as her mixed heritage is usually held against her. Wyeth is simply a young man testing and growing as person. Most complex of all is Henry Layton, the captain of the novel's big fur gathering expedition, who can be charming one minute, even heroic, and mean as hell the next. You never really hate the guy, because he's obviously tormented by his own divisions. What's impressive there is that is how the characters view Layton. That kind of harmony between reader and story doesn't happen as much as it should. Highly recommended....more
I really enjoyed Gardner's earlier effort on Billy the Kid, and figured I'd go back to Outlaw Country and read some more. I might have liked this effoI really enjoyed Gardner's earlier effort on Billy the Kid, and figured I'd go back to Outlaw Country and read some more. I might have liked this effort even more, but that's at least in part fueled by the subject. Billy, wild young man that he was, doesn't, to my mind, have the lethal and calculating gravitas of Jesse James and his crew. The James - Younger gang were a product of the brutal guerrilla wars in Civil War Missouri and Kansas. These wars had levels of barbarity that could be compared to modern day Bosnia, with eye-for-an-eye decapitations, burnings, shootings, hangings, American style. And memories ran long.
The James - Younger band operated much like a military unit, with robberies planned with precision and fearless flair. These robberies were executed on what was a generally favorable landscape filled with sympathetic friends and family. But the railroads fought back, and it eventually led to the unplanned death of Jesse's step-brother due to a fire bombing of the James' house. After that, a number of names entered the James' Book of Vengeance. One collaborator (and neighbor) was soon gunned down by Jesse, and Alan Pinkerton (head of the detective agency responsible), was stalked by Jesse in Chicago. Another organizer in the attack on the James' house was attorney Samuel Hardwicke, who must have certainly felt a marked man afterwards. He would eventually move to what must have seemed a safer Minnesota.
Gardner speculates, with some reason, that the otherwise inexplicable Northfield raid was, at least in part, a mission of vengeance, with Jesse also staking out Hardwicke. But, like the attempt on Pinkerton, Jesse wanted to look his man in the eye before pulling the trigger. The opportunity never presented itself, and there were banks to rob, even up north. The disaster of the Northfield raid -- which Garder lays out in impressive detail -- cannot be overstated. The James - Younger band were apparent (and arrogant) in their dusters, big horses, and big guns. The residents knew, upon sight, these guys were sketchy. One has to wonder that even if the gang had pulled off the robbery, if they would have been able to escape cleanly. As it turned out, a big gun battle erupted, with a few courageous citizens firing back. Before long, two bandits were bleeding out, and a brave bank employee had his brains blown out by Frank James. Cole Younger, in an equally cold blooded act, shot a fleeing man in the head.
What follows is, arguably, the real heart of the book: the escape. And this is where Gardner excels, as he shows the hunted and hunted, in an amazing mile by mile journey. The word was out, and Minnesotans quickly converged, but the James gang proved slippery, and lucky, negotiating their way through an unfamiliar landscape, and coming up with quick and convincing lies when necessary. At least up to a point, and the then the gang split apart, with Frank and Jesse mysteriously disappearing, later to show up back in Missouri. The Youngers -- all wounded -- would have a last stand, but amazingly survive and escape the hangman as well. Jesse vowed he would never be caught, and that's the way it worked out, though not the way he envisioned. Frank? Frank was smart. He engineered, via political allies, an acquittal in Missouri. He never spent a day in jail for his crimes. He should have hung for them. Especially for the murder in Northfield, Minnesota. ...more
I thought I knew this story better, but Gardner demolishes that notion. But he does it in a way that's far from dry-as-dust history. He maintains an uI thought I knew this story better, but Gardner demolishes that notion. But he does it in a way that's far from dry-as-dust history. He maintains an understandable dose of romanticism, especially when it comes to The Kid. There's just not that much known about him, and Billy clearly muddied the waters with lies and half-truths. There are a couple of howlers. I groaned when I read the upcoming confrontation between Billy and Pat Garrett had the makings of a "tragedy for the ages." Oh, come on.
That minor bitch aside, I did find myself liking Billy. It's obvious he is going to hell on a fast horse, but the spark seems to have been the murder of a young English rancher named John Henry Turstall. I could be wrong, but it struck me that the conflict between Turnstall and another rancher, Jimmy Dolan, was very reminiscent of several movies (Yojimbo, A Fistful of Dollars, and Last Man Standing). This conflict is, of course, separate from the Billy the Kid story -- itself a generator of countless books and movies. In the Billy the Kid version, Turnstall is murdered, and in a very cold blooded manner. Turnstall had hired Billy on, and Billy saw it as a hand up from a caring friend and boss. What follows is the Lincoln County War and Billy's mission of vengeance, which eventually merges (in a fairly compressed period of time) with a downward spiral of horse stealing and murder.
Enter Pat Garrett, who really has nothing all that remarkable about him. He's a former buffalo hunter, and he has a temper (he killed a man in a ridiculous fight a few years before). He drinks, he gambles, but he's also trying to get traction in life. Interestingly, Gardner points out that Garrett's youth was spent on a plantation in Louisiana. His father, a slave owner, was destroyed by the Civil War. Gardner suggest, mildly, that Garrett was haunted by this loss of prestige, and spent his life trying to get it back, often through get rich quick schemes. But as a law man he could shoot, and he was brave and dogged in pursuit. Billy never had a chance.
Gardner's description of the death of Billy is as good as I've read of this confusing room by room hunt at Fort Sumner. There's a certain sad and moonlit magic that has Billy and Pat moving through dark rooms, each with a growing awareness that something is going to happen. The Peckinpah movie -- which Gardner is a fan of -- did a good job capturing the Kid's death.
The last hundred pages or so are devoted to Pat Garrett's attempt to move into politics and farming. He just never could get it right. As a fallback, he would gravitate back to being a lawman, but the world was changing. His failed attempt to solve the murder of Albert Fountain and his son may have set into motion events and characters that would eventually lead to Garrett's own assassination in 1908. Amazingly, I found myself bumping into the notorious Albert Fall (Teapot Dome), a sometime enemy and, incomprehensibly, sometime friend to Garrett. It was, apparently, a small world of cutthroats and bad men. Even good ones, such as Garrett, could grow sketchy as the years went by....more
When I saw there was a sequel to The Outlaw Josey Wales (the Good Reads link doesn't seem to work, but it's on my "Westerns" shelf), I wondered why ClWhen I saw there was a sequel to The Outlaw Josey Wales (the Good Reads link doesn't seem to work, but it's on my "Westerns" shelf), I wondered why Clint Eastwood didn't film it. The original was a good sized hit, and the movie is now considered a cult classic. Then, about the mid way point, I saw a significant, unfilmable speed bump in what has to be one of the most violent rape scenes that I have run across in fiction. It's not gratuitous, it fits the context. And this is a novel of vengeance, so the stars get aligned in the end, but it is rough to read.
That long aside, or spoiler, or whatever, I feel is necessary if you want to pursue the Wales story some more. The novel also opens with a brutal scene that also is sexually sadistic, as a group of Rurales, led by a career driven maniac, invade The Lost Lady Saloon, which was Josey's in-town hang out at the end of the earlier novel. It's there some loyal friends get abused, and it's there that the Rurales end up on the list of a man with a remorseless Highland-Outlaw Code. And that's really what the book is about. The Code. It isn't just Josey's code, as he recognizes fellow travelers in a dying Mexican bandit, a stoic young Apache woman, and a seemingly lost gambler trying to find himself.
Carter is a complicated guy with a very controversial past. At one time he was a rabid racist and Klansman, but one who also wrote an award winning children's book. Somewhere along the line it seems he tried to reinvent himself (as a Cherokee!). He would die in a murky brawl with one of his sons. Some said he never changed. Maybe, but Josey Wales is not a racist story. If anything, it's the opposite, as Wales gathers the outcasts, the cripples, and the weak under his protection. The outlaw's guns seem firmly aimed at corruption and the arrogance of class and wealth. The Vengeance Trail is pulp, but also more than that. There's a rough genius to Carter, and I don't say that lightly. I wish he'd lived longer and given us more than two Josey Wales novels.
The Band Lands is the second installment of Oakley Hall’s “Legends West” series. The first is the cult classic, Warlock, which was published in 1958. The Band Lands is the second installment of Oakley Hall’s “Legends West” series. The first is the cult classic, Warlock, which was published in 1958. That story is Hall’s reimagining of the events leading up to the gunfight at the OK Corral. It’s an often surreal novel that often reads to me like a play or a movie, but it’s also one rooted in considerable historical fact and details. Hall seems to be saying all along that Truth is Weird (which is probably why Thomas Pynchon loved it so much) and slippery.
The Bad Lands was published in 1978. I have no idea whether Hall originally intended to make a “series” of these unrelated novels (there is a third, Apache, which I have yet to read). What is similar, however, with Warlock, is a reimagining of a major event in the history of the American West, the Johnson County War. If you are unfamiliar with that event, it involved the “invasion” of Johnson County, Wyoming, by a band of “regulators” who were basically hit men for the Stock Owner’s Association. Michael Cimino would make an undeservedly infamous movie called Heaven’s Gate about that war. (Note: I recently watching the newly released Critereon version of Heaven’s Gate, complete with a cleaned up audio track (absolutely essential) and restored footage, and found it to be one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen.)
The timing of Hall’s book is interesting in that Heaven’s Gate would come out in 1980. Evidently, according to a footnote somewhere in Final Cut (a history of the making of the movie), Hall submitted The Bad Lands to United Artists – I suppose as a potential script. There was some legal wrangling, which seemed to evaporate after the movie bombed. Was Hall trolling for a shot at writing the script? Who knows?
The story, absent that connection, stands on its own. It’s not Warlock, but it’s pretty darned good. On surface, it's standard stuff. A well off widower from New York, Andrew Livingston, goes West to flee his sorrow. He likes the West and the Cowboy life and decides to become a rancher. His decision comes at a time when ranching is falling apart as a life. Competing ranches (one of which is headed by a colorful poetry spouting Scottish Lord), fencing in of the land, and an influx of settlers are all rapidly changing the landscape. Hall takes all of these common elements and goes deeper with dark speculations on the nature of existence, truth, and justice. There are good guys and there are bad guys, but in Hall's novel both will spend time in a gray zone where certainties are hard to grasp. The coming "war" will scramble things even more, as characters find themselves switching allegiances due to forces that are often, but not always, beyond their control.
For those movie buffs out there, is an excellent piece from the New York Times on the restoration of Heaven's Gate.
By Dim and Flaring Lamps is Alan LeMay's final novel. Like his earlier book, The Searchers, it is a novel that must have involved a great deal of reseBy Dim and Flaring Lamps is Alan LeMay's final novel. Like his earlier book, The Searchers, it is a novel that must have involved a great deal of research. The subject this time around is bloody Missouri at the beginning of the Civil War. I know from reading other books, history primarily, how complicated a subject this is. It's not uncommon to find strong "Union" men favoring slavery, and strong state's rights men who didn't think much of the institution of slavery. All in all Missouri is a murderous stew of nightriders, torture, rape, dog killing, and arson. LeMay does a good job capturing this confusing mix, and somehow packs all of this history, along with the fates of three families, into a relatively short (223 pages) novel. LeMay uses these various voices to highlight issues of class, and race. Two of the families (Daniels and Ashland) in particular underscore the class differences in the South (or semi-South) at the time. The Daniels family deal in livestock trading, and, due to the far flung nature of their work, are often trying to straddle the heated politics of the time. Being at the lower end of the social ladder, they are somewhat contemptuously called "mudsills," a term, by the way, and to my surprise, that represents a whole (Southern) theory on class. The Ashlands are from the the Gone With the Wind crowd. The conflict between the two, on the eve of war, plays out though the sons Shep Daniels and Roger Ashland. There's almost a Faulkner like sins-of-the-fathers thread operating throughout the novel. Mixed in are some excellent physical descriptions of the land, and the people who live there.
Where the novel sags a bit, especially toward the end, is where LeMay tries to shovel too much history at the reader too quickly. A lot of this was done via a character, a river boat captain, who has been mostly absent throughout the story. But even then, as two boats (North and South) square off on the Mississippi, LeMay serves up a powerful warning, though a twin sinking, of just what this war will soon become. The ending, suitably, brings this home. I've now read three fine novels by LeMay (The Searchers, The Unforgiven, and By Dim and Flaring Lamps). I don't know anything about his previous work, but these three seem to me worth of a volume from The Library of America. LeMay is an American writer in the truest sense. And a good one....more
Patrick deWitt successfully juggles a number of genres and influences, to come off with his unique brand of Western. The Sisters brothers (Eli and ChaPatrick deWitt successfully juggles a number of genres and influences, to come off with his unique brand of Western. The Sisters brothers (Eli and Charlie) are a pair of hard core killers, much feared throughout the Pacific Northwest. They have a reputation -- and it's deserved. Eli, the narrator, is unusual in that he's not hardened by his occupation. He shows a remarkable sensitivity to the others, that counters his brother Charlie's always present brutality. That's not to say Eli won't crush your head with his boot. A number of reviewers have commented on the obvious influences of Cormac McCarthy and Elmore Leonard. No doubt this is rooted in the characters' deadpan delivery of dialogue, the various bizarre characters in general, and, of course, extreme violence. (I would also like to add Charles Portis (True Grit)in that mix.) One of the most humorous aspects of this book is the formal speech all the characters converse in. The contrast between the careful speech, and the action (drinking, killing, etc.), is often funny as hell. Another aspect of this novel that jumped out at me is its noir heart. Yeah, it's a Western, clearly, but with its Mr. Big -- the Commodore (the brothers' boss), and its Treasure of Sierra Madre treasure hunt, I think that deWitt's tale is a classic piece of noir, with six guns and cowboy hats. ...more
Pretty good western that left me wishing (again) that Goodreads had a half star option. This one is not quite 4 but better than 3. Jones did a lot of Pretty good western that left me wishing (again) that Goodreads had a half star option. This one is not quite 4 but better than 3. Jones did a lot of research on the particulars of buffalo hunting, Cheyenne culture, and history of the West. The book opens with a grim catalogue of atrocity in Wisconsin (Wisconsin Death Trip -- 1873!). People are starving, suicides, murder. The Dousmann family suffers through two suicides (Mother & Father) when the family farm is on the verge of going to the bank. The surviving daughter, Jenny, is thus reunited with her brother, Otto, a Civil War veteran and current buffalo hunter.
Jenny's a spunky girl, and has no desire to be a homebody back in Wisconsin, so she follows her brother back west to hunt buffalo. The carnage of the buffalo kill off cannot be overstated, and Jones does a great job illustrating the horrific scale -- and waste. There's also a genocidal (beyond the buffalo) aspect to this. Prefacing the book is a stunning comment from Columbus Delano, Secretary of the Interior at the time, about the need to get rid of the buffalo, and thus break the Indian's will to resist. Genocide is not explicit in this statement, but the human cost was undeniable.
Back to the story. Jenny learns the ropes of killing and cooking buffalo, and joins the team, which includes a former Confederate office, Raleigh McKay, who has the tragic history of having been the man to shoot Stonewall Jackson. I thought this bit of storytelling was a mistake. Historical novels have to juggle such facts all the time, but this particular event struck me as being too big and too singular. On the other hand, SOMEBODY had to kill Stonewall, but I think the tragic flaw in McKay's character could of been revealed with a less monumental F-UP.
The buffalo hunting crew also includes Tom Two Shields, a half Indian (Cheyenne), who is secretly scouting out the "spider" people (Whites), and Milo Sykes, a redneck from Georgia. At this point the Cheyenne element kicks in. The Indians see, clearly, what the loss of the buffalo means, and try to stop it. It was also around this point where the novel shifted its tone. Originally the novel was written along the lines of a piece of serious Western fiction, kind of like Ron Hansen's Jesse James novels. But then things sort of morphed into a genre-pulp effort. I'm not complaining. The apocalyptic ending makes for a satisfying ending, complete with hideous tortures, scalps flapping, and a Gatling gun. And it also helps to bridge over the somewhat unbelievable transformation of Jenny and Otto. But there's no question that such a shift marks a novel as uneven in its execution....more
I’ve been meaning to get back to some sort of review on this one, especially since it seems the same-titled Eastwood movie is now showing all the timeI’ve been meaning to get back to some sort of review on this one, especially since it seems the same-titled Eastwood movie is now showing all the time on various cable channels. I think it’s now considered a “classic” Western. It’s a pretty good movie, and I seem to like it better now than when it first came out.
The book, The Outlaw Josey Wales is not a movie tie-in novel. The original effort was actually titled The Rebel Outlaw: Josey Wales, and Gone to Texas (which I think also contains the one sequel, Josey Wales: On the Vengeance Trail. The book is actually very good and impressed Eastwood enough to film it. It’s Pulp, but it’s Grade A Pulp of a thoughtful kind. The author, Forrest Carter, is himself quite a story. He was evidently an unapologetic opponent to Reconstruction, a Klansman (or former Klansman) who shot two or three of his brethren in an argument over finances, a speechwriter for George Wallace, as well as an award winning writer who found himself on Oprah’s reading list – for a while at least. It’s a murky, dark story that you can Google up on Wikipedia.
To Carter’s credit, he keeps most of this considerable ideological baggage largely in check. Oh, it’s there, but not in way that poisons a good story. Josey Wales is a farmer caught in the murderous Border war between Missouri and Kansas that preceded the actual Civil War by a good five years. In 1858 Josey Wales would lose both his wife and young son to a “Redleg” raid. (The Redlegs are Yankees.) Wales then rides under the Black Flag of Bloody Bill Anderson. Wales is on a mission of vengeance that dovetails perfectly with the Civil War. Carter does a deft job of juggling the complicated history as well as the psychology behind a man like Wales, Scots-Irish to the core:
If Josey Wales had understood all the reasons, which he did not, he still could not have explained them to the boy. There was, in truth, no place for Josey to go. The fierce mountain clan code would have deemed it a sin to take up life. His loyalty was there, in the grave with his wife and baby. His obligation was to the feud. And despite the cool cunning he had learned, the animal quickness and the deliberate arts of killing with pistol and knife, beneath it all there still rose the black rage of the mountain man. His family had been wronged. His wife and boy murdered. No people, no government, no king, could ever repay. He did not think these thoughts. He only felt the feelings of generations of the code handed down from the Welsh and Scots clans and burned into his being. If there was nowhere to go, it did not mean emptiness in the life of Josey Wales. The emptiness was filled with a cold hatred and a bitterness that showed when his black eyes turned mean.
But the War eventually does end, and Wales must make choices that require his leaving the geography he calls home. This is another area where Carter excels, showing the changing American landscape as Wales transitions from Missouri to Texas. At his best, Carter descriptions had me recalling Cormac McCarthy, and that’s a good thing:
Imperceptibly, the land changed. The buffalo grass grew thinner. Here and there a tall spike of yucca burst a cloud of white balls at its top. Creosote and catclaw bushes were dotted with the yellow petals of the prickly pear and the savagely beautiful scarlet bloom of the cactus. Every plant carried spike or thorn, needle or claw . . .necessary for life in a harsh land. Even the buttes that rose in the distance were swept clean from softening lines, and their rock-edged silhouettes looked like gigantic teeth exposed for battle.
Along the way, Wales (as in the movie) acquires a train of dependents. There are a number times when extreme violence of the Tarantino kind takes over, and Carter handles gun battles and Indian torture like a pro. There are some slight differences from the movie (which is pretty faithful). One big difference is that Wales’ Indian companion, Lone Watie, is a more heroic figure. In the movie, Eastwood used him as comic relief. If you enjoyed the movie, I highly recommend the book, since it adds historical texture along with greater character development. ...more
I was looking for a little piece of Americana in this novella, and Denis Johnson certainly delivered. It tells the story of Robert Granier, who's an eI was looking for a little piece of Americana in this novella, and Denis Johnson certainly delivered. It tells the story of Robert Granier, who's an everyday kind of guy, working in logging and bridge building in the early 20th Century. It's a sad story, since Granier lives, for the most part, a lonely (and long) life against the stunning backdrop of the Idaho Panhandle. Granier does experience love, but it's a love that is tragically cut short due to a raging fire that transforms the landscape -- and Granier's life. But Granier remains loyal to both this experience, and its setting. The poignancy of this intermingling of love for a dead wife, and the land where he first experiences happiness, is hard to overstate. Johnson also leavens the sentimentality with some macabre humor that Twain, Bierce, or Flannery O'Connor would of applauded. If you like Cormac McCarthy, with his stark and beautiful landscapes, but feel that the Human Factor is missing in that great writer's grim universe, Johnson's your man. His prose often borders on poetry, and his dialogue is as authentic sounding as it gets. My one complaint is the wolf child bit, which seemed unnecessary, and a distraction in what was otherwise a beautiful story that was both personal and National at the same time....more
I'm really torn on how to rate this one. I tend to rate within genre, so this should probably be a 4 star effort -- though I would probably give it a I'm really torn on how to rate this one. I tend to rate within genre, so this should probably be a 4 star effort -- though I would probably give it a 3 if I was thinking in terms of straight up fiction. On the downside, the plotting is so obvious that you pretty much know how The Border Trumpet will end within twenty pages or so. And yet that doesn't seem to matter much, since Haycox (who wrote the story the John Wayne movie, Stagecoach was based on) places so much emphasis on the human factor. His character development is first rate, and well beyond what I normally see in genre fiction. The story is about a young woman, Eleanor Warren, who is the love interest of two cavalry officers. She also happens to be the commanding officer's daughter, and thus an Army brat from the time she was a baby. Actually, she's no brat, but very intelligent and loyal, and in her own way very much a part of the regiment. The two officers are opposites. One, Phil Castleton, is an ambitious martinet, who she becomes engaged to. (I sort of wondered about the Why of that, but not too much, since Eleanor's sense of duty is so strong.) The other officer, Tom Benteen, has that whole loose jointed cowboy/soldier thing down to an art form. You KNOW how that's going to end. Time and Place: 1870, Arizona. The Apaches are stirring things up. The elements are all pretty standard Western stuff, but Haycox, with his fine character studies, also brings an eye for realistic detail. His descriptions of the land remind me of Hemingway and Cormac McCarthy. Beautiful, but precise. That precision extends itself toward descriptions of small unit battles with the Apaches. Other than guys on horses shooting and charging, I know zip about how the cavalry really dealt with their Indian foes. Haycox supplies real methods and tactics, which by the way adds to the human factor, as soldiers -- and Apaches, sweat, shoot, and stalk each other under a brutal and unforgiving sun. When someone gets killed, you find you have come to care for that character, warts and all. If you like Westerns, highly recommended. From what I understand, Hemingway liked reading this guy. I can see why....more
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