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Where the Western came from and where it's going
by Geoff Sadler
To hear some folks talk,
you'd think the Western novel had already been consigned to Boot Hill.
Heaven knows, they've had the hearse waiting out on the street almost
as long as it's been there for "the Novel" itself, and scarcely a month
goes by without some highbrow critic or PC commissar taking turns to
kick the body. By now we're all supposed to see it as a genre
approaching extinction, a racist, sexist, violent and stereotyped
sub-literature with nothing whatever to be said in its defence. |
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Lonesome
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Larry McMurty
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The fact that the Western's
attackers claim it's so lifeless makes one wonder sometimes why they feel
compelled to keep hitting it over the head as hard as they do.
Then again, maybe they know what they're not prepared to admit to the rest of
us; that, far from having passed on to that great round-up in the sky, the
Western novel is very much alive, and has far more going for it than the
knockers would have us believe. Far from shrinking in on itself, it continues to
develop and to explore fresh horizons. And while often portrayed as a parade of
stereotypes and cliches, it is itself the victim of some extremely stereotypical
thinking.
So what exactly is the Western novel? I write Western adventure stories that are
shortish, actionpacked, and hopefully
exciting to the reader, and which are intended as enjoyable entertainment. While
I and other authors like me try to instil a little factual background, and
perhaps a more than surface study of characters and plot, these books are
stories rather than histories; they do not pretend to be factual accounts, or
major literature. This does not make them worthless, any more than the average
detective or science fiction novel, which is often aimed at a not dissimilar
readership. While it isn't War and Peace, it's a genre that includes a number of
talented writers, and as such is a valid means of expression.
The "shoot-'em-up", I feel, is an honourable calling, and an
important segment of the Western novel as a whole -- but it isn't all of it!
This truth appears to be lost on the "let's bury the Western" brigade,
who seem intent on cramming the entire field into a "shoot-'em-up"
straitjacket.
In fact, the Western novel is a
far broader and more flexible form than its critics appear to comprehend, and
judging it by formulary adventure stories is about as bright as judging Science
Fiction by Flash Gordon, or Charles Dickens by Victorian melodrama. It's all
part of the double standard that has the detractors throwing up their hands in
horror at the "mindless violence" of the Western while turning a blind eye to
the litter of corpses in Taggart or James Bond. Certainly, the writings of J.T.Edson and Louis L'Amour
are Western novels; so is Shane
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, Tom Lea's The Wonderful Country, Larry McMurtry's Lonesome Dove, Legends of the Fall and The Little House on the
Prairie! The outer edge of the Western extends to take in the Navajo detective
novels of Tony Hillerman, Norman Maclean's A River Runs Through It, and the
cross-genre satire of Joe Lansdale's Razored Saddles. The phoney image of the
Western as formula writing for old men in cloth caps is itself long overdue for
the hearse in the street. While the genre is read by a minority audience, that
readership cuts across the lines of age, race and gender, and the same is true
of its writers.
The origins of the Western are as varied as its present. The form may be traced
in embryo in the wilderness novels of Fenimore Cooper, whose characters faced
elemental situations with heroism or philosophical resignation at the cutting
edge of the frontier. Another strand may be found in the goldrush tales of Bret
Harte and Mark Twain, based in large measure on their personal experience. The
Luck of Roaring Camp and Roughing it introduced figures soon to become
stereotypes (the whore with the heart of gold, for instance) together with a
lively, deadpan humour that was to prove an integral part of later Western
narratives.
A third and obvious ancestor was the spate of "dime novels" that began
to appear in the cities back East during the 1850s. Produced by publishers like
Beadle and Adams, these sensational, melodramatic tales of frontier derringdo
described the adventures of fictional heroes and heroines, or presented the
exploits of real-life Westerners in an incredibly exaggerated form. Their famous
advertising campaign "Who is Seth Jones?" forestalled "Who Shot
J.R.?" by a hundred and twenty years! The "dime novels" may be
seen as a direct forerunner of the later "pulp" Western magazine
stories, and the "shoot-'em-up" of our own day.
One important thread in the fabric, too often overlooked, is the female pioneer
memoir, the earliest of which were being written while Fenimore Cooper was busy
with The Last of the Mohicans. Writers like Mary Hallock Foote, with The
Led-Horse Claim (1883) provided impressive examples of the West as seen from a
feminine perspective, and Laura Ingalls Wilder became world-famous as the
narrator of real-life frontier experiences in novels such as The Little House on
the Prairie. The early 20th century saw a growing body of women , notably Willa
Catha -- a major novelist by any standard -- who brought her own individual
vision of Western life in Pioneers! and My Antonia. Further significant
contributions came from Mary Austin (One-Smoke Stories), Bess Streeter Aldrich
(A Lantern in Her Hand), and such early Western feminists as Meridel Le Sueur.
Theirs is a tradition that continues into the present, and must be seen as a
vital aspect of the Western novel.
The "Western" most readers think of nowadays is the type of novel
codified by Owen Wister in The Virginian of 1902. An Eastern university
graduate, Wister introduced the idea of "the Code of the West"
(largely his own invention) and climaxed his novel with the first formal
showdown gunfight between hero and villain on the main street of town. The image
has influenced hundreds of modern Westerns, and has become a potent vision on
film and T.V.screens. The first Western film, The Great Train Robbery, also
dates from the same period, and novel and cinema versions of Western narratives
have transferred influences, since adding their own viewpoints and bringing the
gospel to a wider audience. The Riders of the Purple Sage became a bestseller,
while the Western magazine "Lariat" reacted to the Eastern influence
with action tales by former cowhands like W.C.Tuttle, whose writings blended
dime novel excitement with his own laconic brand of humour. By this time the
Western was an international literature and a fully-fledged American myth. Long
before the 19th century ended, the German Karl May had achieved fame in Europe
with his Cooper-influenced Shatterhand novels, later to be the spiritual
ancestors of the "Western" films. In England, Oliver Strange began a
thriving tradition with his Sudden series of the 1930s. There was no shortage of
"shoot-'em-ups" as the Western galloped on into the 1950s and '60s,
but the flood of action tales was matched by a crop of gifted writers whose
perceptions ran strong and deep. Jack Schaefer's Shane etched the stark conflict
of good and evil in a Western context, contrasting the violence with a memorable
picture of the life of a pioneer farming community. Les Savage, Jr., in Treasure
of the Brasada and Beyond Wind River used the Western to express a tragic vision
with keen psychological insights, and British author John Prebble brought an
individual slant to the form in Spanish Stirrup, The Buffalo Soldiers and My
Great Aunt Appearing Day. Tom Lea's poignant fable, The Wonderful Country, set
amid the arid landscapes of the South-West, again has tragedy at its core, and
lives in the mind. Dorothy Johnson, in stories like The Hanging Tree and A Man
Called Horse brought a female eye to the traditional Western adventure, while
elsewhere the pioneer line continued through Loula Grace Erdman, Edna Ferber,
Dorothy Gardiner, and into modern times with Gwen Bristow, Jeanne Williams and
the Western-located romantic novels of Janet Dailey.
The '60s and '70s saw the idealism of the Western challenged by a cynical
generation weaned on the slaughter in Vietnam. Thomas Berger's Little Big Man
was a bitter, satirical attack on the U.S.Army's massacres of Native American
populations, while True Grit by Charles Portis poked gentler fun at the heroic
lawman in pursuit of wrongdoers. Icons can always stand a certain amount of
debunking, especially if they have feet of clay in the first place, but far from
revealing the weakness of the Western novel, "spoofs" of this kind
were -- and are -- an indication of its strength, as a target worth aiming at.
And the best of the spoofs, like the aforementioned, came over as strong, well
crafted Western narratives in their own right.
Cynicism hit rock bottom with the "Adult Western" series of the '70s
and early '80s, ably written but depressing tales of sadistic violence and
gratuitous sex, produced on both sides of the Atlantic. Edge, Apache, Crow and
the rest provided the Clint Eastwood of the "Dollar" movies with some
literary soul-mates, and shared the same amoral outlook. The best thing by far
to emerge from this period were the Blade and McAllister novels of Peter Watts,
writing as "Matt Chisholm"; probably the most accomplished of British
Western writers, he brought humour, humanity and skill to an emotional
wasteland.
Omens of a new kind of Western had appeared much earlier in the United States.
In The Brave Cowboy Edward Abbey pits his cowboy anti-hero against modern
society, and has him pursued across the desert landscape by cars and
helicopters. His death, when he and his horse are mown down by a truck on the
highway, is symbolic of the passing of an outmoded age. Larry McMurtry, in
Horseman, Pass By (filmed as "Hud", with Paul Newman) presents a
similarly bleak picture of modern Western life, showing the ruthlessly efficient
Hud triumph over the decent but ageing rancher Homer, the embodiment of an
earlier West whose day is over. More of McMurtry later.
Contrary to received opinion, the West was a multi-cultural society, and in more
recent years the lack of ethnic perspectives has begun to be addressed. The
Native Americans, who suffered so badly at the hands of the invaders, had for
many years to rely on well-meaning white writers to present their case. This,
though, has changed for the better. Black Elk Speaks, John Neihardt's
translation of the recollections of an Ogalala shaman, published in1932, paved
the way for several later accounts -- both factual and imagined of the West as
seen by Native American eyes. Forrest Carter, a Cherokee, brought his own
approach to the action Western with The Rebel Outlaw Josey Wales, and presented
a favourable portrait of Geronimo in Watch for Me On the Mountain. Robert
Conley, a writer sharing the same Cherokee heritage, uses familiar Western
storylines to explore relationships between the races in such novels as
"Quitting Time", and has often included a "detective"
element in his work. Away from the "actioners", other Native American
authors have made striking individual contributions. Leslie M.Silko, in
Ceremony, describes the collision of tribal Laguna ways with the industrial
United States from the viewpoint of a mentally ill ex-serviceman, and follows
him in his journey to renewal through the Laguna curing ceremonies. Her
collection Storyteller blends poetry and photographs into a single vision,
ancient stories and traditions mingling with European images on the page. Scott
N.Momaday won the Pulitzer Prize with House Made of Dawn, in which another
Pueblo war veteran struggles to adjust to the conflicting cultures of his people
and the outside. His Ancient Child reworks tribal myth and legend into the frame
of a mainstream novel. Louise Erdrich, in Love Medicine, draws on her mixed
white and Chippewa ancestry to depict the lives of families caught between the
reservation and the adjoining cities. These writers are a world away from the
Western action novels of Carter and Conley, but in a real sense they are part of
a wider Native American tradition, and share more than a mere Western location
in their novels. The last twenty years have seen the emergence of a different
kind of Western novel, and with it a new breed of writer. Novels, often of epic
length and scope, have focused on America's frontier history, and cast a more
revealing light on the relations between the incomers and the original
inhabitants. Dee Brown, who created a classic with Bury My Heart at Wounded
Knee, its Native American view of Western history taken from firsthand accounts
of the dispossessed, and who in The Gentle Tamers examined the vital role of the
Western woman, combines both perspectives in his fictional saga Creek Mary's
Blood. An epic work spanning five generations of a family of mixed white and
Native American ancestry, it is presented through the eyes of Creek Mary, the
family head, who comes to embody her people's struggles and their endurance in a
hostile world. A powerfully written novel whose exploration of the continuing
merging of cultures makes nonsense of racist attitudes, it is matched by the
same author's Killdeer Mountain, where Brown finds a new angle on the Cavalry vs
Indians scenario. By judicious use of multiple viewpoints, he presents differing
accounts of two military actions -- an apparent failure where a cavalry unit
allows hostiles to escape, and a seeming success where an enemy chief is
kidnapped by the soldiers -- and leaves the reader questioning as to what really
occurred, and whether the heroism and incompetence were all they appeared to be.
History is written by humans, Brown seems to be never trust reported
"facts" that are always capable of re-interpretation. For those of us
who did not live through the events, there can be no room for absolute
certainty.
Ivan Doig, in his magnificent McCaskill trilogy, depicts the first hundred years
of his native Montana through the experiences of the Scottish immigrant
McCaskill family. From the arrival of the first McCaskill to the centennial of
1989, Doig brings his epic landscape to life not merely through the wonderfully
achieved individual characters, but also through the daily routines and seasonal
celebrations of the farmers and herders and their loved ones. His is not the
drama of the main street showdown -- Doig dislikes action Westerns -- but a
striking portrait of his state and its people, viewed through their everyday
social life. As such, English Creek, Dancing at the Rascal Fair and Ride With
Me, Mariah Montana are outstanding works of fiction, and deserve to be much
better known this side of the Atlantic.
It is unlikely that Doig would enjoy Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian, which
contains scenes of shocking violence that probably even Sergio Leone would find
hard to stomach. McCarthy, an accomplished, poetic stylist outside the Western
field, here follows a group of scalphunters in their murderous journey across
the South-West, describing their adventures in a powerful, intense and often
disturbing prose. Action is harsh and relentless; no heroes versus villains,
rather the exercise of brutal power and greed, and a total lack of feeling for
the victim. The riders' journey is chillingly recounted as they move through a
smoking desert wasteland, dealing out death to all in their path. Stark and
extreme, Blood Meridian far surpasses the average "Adult Western" for
violence, but leaves one strangely distant from the action; in the end,
McCarthy's characters are so repellent, it's impossible to identify with any of
them. All the Pretty Horses, a more recent novel, shows the same mastery of
narrative while at the same time presenting characters more recognisable as
human beings. Set in Texas and Old Mexico in the early part of the century
(Shirley Temple comes in for a mention),it focuses on another young wanderer and
his friend in their quest to an unknown country, and their return as veterans
scarred by the knowledge they have gained. McCarthy explores the themes of love
and betrayal, honour and disillusion with memorable skill, the momentum of his
storytelling spinning itself across the page in long, continuous sentences.
Violence is always present, but never usurps the depth and force of his
psychological perceptions. All the Pretty Horses is an excellent piece of
writing, and probably McCarthy's best to date.
Larry McMurtry, a far better-known writer over here than either Doig or
McCarthy, has been producing novels for the past thirty years, many of which
have found their way to the cinema screen. His early work, typified by Horseman,
Pass By and The Last Picture Show, viewed his native South-West as a limiting,
restrictive environment fixed in the past, and unable to confront the modern
urban way of life. Later novels such as Terms of Endearment and Desert Rose saw
him move further away from the West to urban settings, but he has since returned
with a series of epic novels which present the happenings and characters of the
19th century West with a more sympathetic, if unsentimental eye. Lonesome Dove,
Streets of Laredo and their prequel Dead Man's Walk follow the adventures of two
Texas Rangers, Gus McCrae and Woodrow Call, from early youth to the onset of age
and death. Both leading characters are shown as flawed, human figures rather
than supermen, and many of their experiences end in defeat and humiliation.
McMurtry displays a stark, unromantic vision of the West, leavened by humour and
occasional pathos. He brings a past age to vibrant life, showing the rigours of
a cattle drive, the grim nature of Indian warfare and the hardships of frontier
existence while introducing his large and mobile cast. Nor are Call and McCrae
his only voices. Action is described from several female viewpoints, each
recognisably individual. Frontier women like Clara Forsythe, Lorena and Maria
Garza are presented as having their own importance to the narrative, while
real-life Westerns such as gunman John Wesley Hardin and cattle rancher Charles
Goodnight are integrated into the story not as "cameos" but as major
contributors with definite voices and attitudes of their own. The Lonesome Dove
trilogy is without doubt an outstanding addition to the Western novel.
McMurtry's latest book, Zeke and Ned, again shows him at his best in a
sympathetic account of the life and death of Cherokee outlaw Ned Christie, as
recounted by his friend Zeke Proctor. McMurtry follows the tragic story from the
accidental shooting that sets the inexorable wheel of fate in motion, to the
final climactic battle as Ned defends his home-made fort against the forces of
white man's law. Co-written with screenplay writer Diana Ossana, Zeke and Ned is
a striking picture of the Cherokee people and their efforts to adjust to the
ways of the invading whites. McMurtry has carved his own inimitable niche in
Western fiction, and appears to have much more to say. Jim Harrison, in a
sequence of novels and novellas, most notably his Legends of the Fall and the
later Dalva, investigates the Western past through modern characters with their
roots in the frontier experience. The brothers of Legends of the Fall ride from
their native Montana to enlist in the carnage of the Great War, taking with them
their pioneer origins and ancestral guilts. Dalva, a woman of mixed white and
Sioux blood, searches for her son as the genocide of the 19th century finds
modern echoes in Korea and Vietnam. Using a strong, incredibly concentrated
prose, Harrison studies aspects of individual love and loss while uncovering the
dark underside of pioneer settlement -- the robbery and eventual murder of the
native inhabitants. His is a bleak, unforgiving vision of great individuality
and strength, and merits serious attention.
Perhaps most unusual of all is the novella A River Runs Through It, which with a
handful of short stories comprises the entire fictional oeuvre of the late
Norman Maclean. A strongly autobiographical work, it is debatable how much of it
is fiction and how much reminiscence, but there can be no doubting its evocative
power as a picture of Montana and its people in the early decades of this
century. The title story provides a poignant memoir of the narrator, his brother
and their absent father, realised during the course of their fishing expeditions
beside the river. A moving, perceptive study of Maclean and his family, it is at
the same time an atmospheric recreation of a vanished world, where echoes of the
frontier may still be discerned in the thoughts and visions of its main
protagonists.
Another significant development of the past twenty years has been the
rediscovery of the "private writings" of female Westerners as a
literary resource. Letters, diaries and journals of pioneer women have brought a
whole new dimension to the Western experience, revealing their major
contribution to pioneer settlement, and providing an alternative account of past
events. One of the best examples is Elinore Pruitt Stewart's Letters of a Woman
Homesteader, first published in 1914 and more recently filmed as Heartland,
which gives a first-hand description of a frontier woman's life in
turn-of-the-century Wyoming. Private writing offers fresh insights into the
nature of the West and its men and women, and further discoveries are doubtless
yet to be made.
All of the aforementioned are gifted writers, each with a definite individual
voice. They do not always subscribe to the same literary creed, and some would
probably not recognise themselves as alike in any way. In a sense, all
pigeonholing of this kind is convenient rather than accurate, and putting any
writer into a set category is bound to be a simplification. This said, all the
authors referred to are describing a particularly Western experience, and this
is reflected in their outlook and the speech and thoughts of their creations.
Most of their fiction could be fairly described as a historical novel, while Dee
Brown and Ivan Doig might possibly be classed as writers of family sagas, but
all of them may be regarded as Western novels. Some argument might be expended
on whether or not Jim Harrison and Norman Maclean should be included -- I think
they should -- but few can doubt that Lonesome Dove, All the Pretty Horses,
Creek Mary's Blood and the McCaskill trilogy belong there. They're set in the
West, describe incidents and characters from the Western past, and address
classic Western themes. If they aren't Western novels, then nothing is.
So, far from shrivelling, the Western novel continues to grow and to explore new
territory. To do so, it has undergone considerable change, and often examines
its origins from new and unexpected angles. Recent years have seen the
development of the epic novel spanning several pioneer generations, the emphasis
on social rather than military or political history, and the acknowledgement of
ethnic and female perspectives on frontier life. In so doing, the Western novel
has acquired some of the style and method of the historical novel and family
saga, while retaining its own clear identity. No doubt it will change again, as
every literary form has done when the need arises, but change is not the same
thing as Extinction. As fact, and as myth, the American West continues to
fascinate us, and that fascination is unlikely to pall in the future. It has
nothing to do with racism, sexism or even violence; rather, it is the lure of
the far horizon, the quest, the voyage of discovery, and the illusory hope of
starting afresh in a new world. It's what drew the pioneers over a century ago,
and it draws us today. The West, as America's own contribution to myth, now
ranks beside the tales of King Arthur and Robin Hood, and in space-age clothing
has long since gone into orbit as "the final frontier" of Star Trek.
Somehow, I don't think it's about to die just yet.
Now, if Yul Brynner and Steve McQueen would be good enough to get that hearse
off the street, we can give the so-called patient a little air. He (or she) has
plenty of riding to do before sundown.
Geoff Sadler lives in Shirebrook, Derbyshire, and works in the Local Studies
Department of Chesterfield Library. As "Jeff Sadler" and "Wes
Calhoun" he is the author of 23 Westerns published by Robert Hale, and in
1990-91 was editor of the 2nd edition of Twentieth Century Western Writers,
published by St.James Press. A member of the Shirebrook Local History Group, he
is compiler of three photographic texts on Shirebrook history, and is currently
working on a history and "Who's Who" of Shirebrook Football Club. His
latest Western, Yaqui Justice, was published in August by Robert Hale (price £9-75).
(c) Geoff Sadler, 1998
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