The Anti-Western?

Social media, I am told, is all abuzz these days with Larry McMurtry’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, Lonesome Dove. While I lack even a passing acquaintance with the online exchanges, I have it on good authority that the book is experiencing a resurgence, heaped with praise all the way up to and including being christened the greatest book of all time.

Much of the discussion revolves around Lonesome Dove being declared by some the “anti-Western.” I’m not sure what that means. It may have to do with the idea that McMurtry attempts to present a realistic portrayal of the Old West, warts and all—a departure from the romanticized, glorified version popularized by Owen Wister, Zane Grey, Louis Lamour, and others, continuing right up to our time. (Not that those good-versus-evil tales with their necessary triumph of the good-guy hero are unusual in literature. The same pattern holds true at least as far back as Homer and the legends of King Arthur, and continues in cozy mysteries, thrillers, fantasies, private-eye novels, Westerns, and even much of literary fiction.) But somehow, calling Lonesome Dove the “anti-Western” gives supercilious readers permission to read a Western novel—something their refined, sophisticated tastes would not allow otherwise.

But there is nothing new in Lonesome Dove’s attempt to present a raw, unvarnished version of the Old West. It has been done before and since, many times. Andy Adams tried it in 1903 in The Log of a Cowboy, a trail drive novel that, unlike Lonesome Dove, grew out of the author’s personal experiences.
Paso Por Aqui, penned by Eugene Manlove Rhodes in 1925, cannot be written off as glamorizing its subject. Nor can The Ox-Bow Incident by Walter Van Tilburg Clark, which has been turning the mythical Old West on its head since 1940. Glendon Swarthout’s The Shootist (not the movie, which pulls Swarthout’s punches) breaks all the expectations of the triumph of good over evil. True Grit by Charles Portis also represents a departure.

A previous Pulitzer Prize-winning novel set in the Old West, Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner, presents a realistic view borrowed from the experiences of real-life Western transplant Mary Hallock Foote.

It would be difficult to depart from the romantic view further than Cormac McCarthy does in Blood Meridian and The Crossing, or E.L. Doctorow in Welcome to Hard Times. Loren D. Estleman’s Bloody Season demonstrates the dubious distinctions between heroes and villains. And while a glamorized view of the Old West peeks through in Ivan Doig’s Dancing at the Rascal Fair and The Meadow by James Galvin, it is portrayed through the eyes of some characters, and is countered by the notions of other characters.

Are these examples—and others out there—“anti-Westerns,” or are they merely Western literature, sharing the stage with the broad range of plots, points of view, and approaches that make reading good books of any genre a joy? I cast my vote for the latter. To me, Lonesome Dove is not “anti-Western” at all, but “pro” good reading and a great Western novel.

My Favorite Book, Part 16

It would be difficult, I believe, for any list of outstanding Western novels to exclude Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove. I have read several McMurtry novels, and the truth is I run hot and cold on his writing—some of the books I like, some do nothing for me, some I would not recommend.

But when it comes to Lonesome Dove, I am hard pressed to do anything but stand in awe.

The main tale, a trail drive from Texas to Montana, is simple enough. But the many intertwining subplots give the book depth and richness, with stories both intricate and complex.

But it is the characters that set the book apart from all others. Woodrow Call and Augustus McCrae are an unlikely pair, with well-developed personalities that are at the same time contradictory and complementary. And the supporting characters, the whole long list of them, are likewise realistic and representative of the depth and breadth of humanity.

To win the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction—which Lonesome Dove did in 1986—is an accomplishment unrivaled for a novel. For a Western novel, it is almost unprecedented and, for a “cowboy” novel, I believe it is unique.

The film adaptation is well done, but it’s about time for me to dive back into the book for, I think, the third time.

Augustus McRae, Philosopher.

As many of you know who read this stuff regularly, I will be presenting some workshops at the Pikes Peak Writers Conference in April. The folks behind the conference asked me to respond to a series of questions for posting on their web site to help with promotion. While most of the questions were fairly straightforward and easily answered, one in particular required some thought. Here, for no special reason I can think of, is that question, along with my response.

7. Which fictional character do you relate to the most, and why?

It would probably be politic to say I relate to characters like Atticus Finch or Jean Valjean or someone else with lofty moral qualities. But I am drawn to Augustus McCrae in the Larry McMurtry novel Lonesome Dove. Gus has an approach to life I agree with, best summarized by his saying to his partner, Woodrow Call, “Well, I’m glad I ain’t scairt to be lazy.”

Laziness is an overlooked virtue, as evidenced by Gus’s follow-up statement: “Hell, Call, if I worked as hard as you, there’d be no thinking done at all around this outfit.”

Just sitting and thinking may look lazy to others, but, for me, it’s how things get written. I spend a lot of time thinking about what I am going to write. Then, when I get around to actually “doing something,” I tend to get it written fairly quickly—which leaves more time for laziness.