Happy Birthday Townes Van Zandt-Not Ready For Prime Time Class Struggle – “Crazy Hearts” – A Film Review

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of the movie trailer for "Crazy Hearts".

DVD Review

Crazy Hearts, starring Jeff Bridges, Fox Searchlight, 2009

This one is easy. See it. Why? Well, if for no other reason that Jeff Bridges finally won an Academy Award for his lead role as Bad Blake in it, a role that he has been waiting for about forty years to cash in on. Every since I first saw Bridges as Duane in the screen version of Larry MacMurtry’s great novel of the New West, “The Last Picture Show”, I have known that he had the righteous, good-hearted, hard-drinking, devil-take-the-hinter post, sexually energetic and troubled “old geezer” that he personifies in the Blake role in him. He has done other fine performances but there is something just a little extra that he brings to that good-ole-boy role, young or old.

And here is the kicker. As most of those in America who have being paying attention in the lead-up to the Oscars know this film is about an alcoholic, back roads traveling, down on his luck, hard living country singer, an “outlaw” singer for sure. But also a man in desperate need of either a good woman or a good twelve step program, or both. That premise drives the action and the music. The Blake character could be based on about twelve guys from the 1970s with that fistful of “outlaw cred” from Waylon Jennings to Townes Van Zandt (whose “If I Needed You” is part of the soundtrack here). And that is my final point. Back in those days I had what I call my “country moment”. I gravitated toward the “outlaw country” sound, especially that of Townes Van Zandt, from my permanent berth deep in the blues, city and country, and to a lesser extent, folk. The Jeff Bridges/Bad Blake character is just the cinematic expression of that moment for me. Kudos.

When The Wild West Really Was The Wild West- “Wild Bill”- A Jeff Bridges Retrospective

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Wild Bill Hickok.

DVD Review

Wild Bill, Jeff Bridges, Ellen Barkin, John Hurt, directed by Walter Hill, 1995

Those of us who grew up in the 1950s in the early days of television, black and white television, got our heroes, our Western heroes strictly in white hat, and our bad guys strictly in black. And the Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans) well, the less said about the treatment of those benighted and betrayed people the better. Of course this view was all hokum, or worst. It took the likes of Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCarthy and others in literature to give us a more realistic view of the rawness, untamed rawness of the Old West. And the likes of Walter Hill to give us a more truthful cinematic view, a view with muddy streets, whiskey breathe, fistfights at the drop of a hat, or less, treachery among enemies, treachery among friends, many social diseases and all. And that was on the good days. The good director here has taken on the legend of Wild Bill Hickock, generally given the better of it in Western lore as an associate of Buffalo Bill, a civilizing influence, and a king hell gunfighter.

Of course, the subtext for this review is that the actor playing Will Bill is none other that last year’s Academy Award winner Jeff Bridges for his “modern” cowboy role (singer-songwriter, okay) in Crazy Hearts. My argument underlying the choice of subtext is that Bridges was born to play theses good old boy Western parts and has done mainly stellar work in the genre ever since he cut his teeth on the modern Texas good-old-boy-in-the-making Duane Jackson in the film adaptation of McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show. And at the acting level that is true here, although the existential characterization and the Bridges cool wit is perhaps a little over the top for the nitty-gritty West of the late 19th century.

One comes away from this film feeling, and maybe not incorrectly, that the distance between hero and villain (here in this contrived concoction about the manner of Bill’s untimely end, as villain, the son, the driven son of “spurned” mother whom was once Wild Bill’s lover) is who is left standing at the end. And for most of his life from his service in the Union Armies during the American Civil War until that fateful day that Bill was just one step too cool Will Bill was the last one left standing. But, see there was that little matter of the spurned woman, and that driven son to lay old Bill low. In any case if you have not seen a Western since the 1950s (although I guess I would want to know where you have been) you will be hard-pressed to sort out the heroes from the villains here. The Indians (a.k.a. Native Americans) as usual, in real life or fiction, get short shrift.

*A Man Of The West- The Old America West Ballads Of Johnny Cash

Click on the title to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Johnny Cash performing "Streets Of Laredo".


CD Review

Johnny Cash Sings The True Ballads Of The Old West, Johnny Cash, Sbme Special Mkts, 2009

I have spent some time, and I believe time well spent, at this site over the pass couple of years talking about things of the American West, old and new. You know the stuff of legends like we grew up with as kids, at least my generation, the generation of ’68, did, for better or worst. Blame it on Larry McMurtry, his books, and his incessant Old West reviews in “The New York Review Of Books”. Some of this stuff is genuine history, things that today’s labor militants should know about like the struggles of the Western Federation Of Miners, Big Bill Haywood and the legendary Wobblies (IWW, Industrial Workers Of The World) who led many a strike against the mine, farm, and lumber bosses.

Other things are, and should be, treated a little more circumspectly, like the legends of Jesse James and John Wesley Harding, especially those who honor the Northern victory in the American Civil War. There has, in short, been no lack of song and storytelling about the Old West. This is a round-about way of introducing Johnny Cash’s valuable little cache of old time Western-oriented material, mainly ballads, including some long needed focus on the struggles of Native Americans, the odd group out in the West, old and new.

The name Johnny Cash, although well thought of in this space, has mainly been mentioned in connection with his connection to the legendary Carter family (he married Maybelle’s daughter, June, for those who are not familiar with that family’s genealogy), a family more noted for their contributions to mountain music, eastern mountain music, than the hard western plains described in this album. Nonetheless, Johnny in that deep, authoritative and plaintive voice of his has brought the Old West alive in these recordings. I should like to note several stick out items of interest here. First off- the rendition, based on Longfellow, of “Hiawatha’s Vision”; an interesting song about the fate of the assassin of President James Garfield in the post-Civil War period, “Mr. Garfield; and, a song of the original old West, Kentucky, in” Road to Kaintuck”. Then to finish this compilation up there are songs that truly reflect the struggles of the Old West, “Stampede,” “Blizzard,” “The Streets Of Laredo,” and “Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie”. Just a nice little slice of Americana, mainly not mentioned in the history books, or by western Chamber of Commerces.


Song: O Bury Me Not On The Lone Praire

"O bury me not on the lone prairie"
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie
Where the wild coyote will howl o'er me
Where the buffalo roams the prairie sea
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"It makes no difference, so I've been told
Where the body lies when life grows cold
But grant, I pray, one wish to me
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"I've often wished to be laid when I die
By the little church on the green hillside
By my father's grave, there let mine be
O bury me not on the lone prairie"

The cowboys gathered all around the bed
To hear the last word that their comrade said
"O partners all, take a warning from me
Never leave your homes for the lone prairie"

"Don't listen to the enticing words
Of the men who own droves and herds
For if you do, you'll rue the day
That you left your homes for the lone prairie"

"O bury me not," but his voice failed there
But we paid no head to his dying prayer
In a narrow grave, just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie

We buried him there on the lone prairie
Where the buzzards fly and the wind blows free
Where rattlesnakes rattle, and the tumbleweeds
Blow across his grave on the lone prairie

And the cowboys now as they cross the plains
Have marked the spot where his bones are lain
Fling a handful of roses on his grave
And pray to the Lord that his soul is saved

In a narrow grave, just six by three
We buried him there on the lone prairie

"Streets Of Laredo"

As I walked out on the streets of Laredo.
As I walked out on Laredo one day,
I spied a poor cowboy wrapped in white linen,
Wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay.

"I can see by your outfit that you are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I boldly walked by.
"Come an' sit down beside me an' hear my sad story.
"I'm shot in the breast an' I know I must die."

"It was once in the saddle, I used to go dashing.
"Once in the saddle, I used to go gay.
"First to the card-house and then down to Rose's.
"But I'm shot in the breast and I'm dying today."

"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin.
"Six dance-hall maidens to bear up my pall.
"Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin.
"Roses to deaden the clods as they fall."

"Then beat the drum slowly, play the Fife lowly.
"Play the dead march as you carry me along.
"Take me to the green valley, lay the sod o'er me,
"I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."

"Then go write a letter to my grey-haired mother,
"An' tell her the cowboy that she loved has gone.
"But please not one word of the man who had killed me.
"Don't mention his name and his name will pass on."

When thus he had spoken, the hot sun was setting.
The streets of Laredo grew cold as the clay.
We took the young cowboy down to the green valley,
And there stands his marker, we made, to this day.

We beat the drum slowly and played the Fife lowly,
Played the dead march as we carried him along.
Down in the green valley, laid the sod o'er him.
He was a young cowboy and he said he'd done wrong.

Searching For The Old American West In Song - The Music Of Tom Russell

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Tom Russell performing "Tonight We Ride."

CD Review

Borderland, Tom Russell, Hightone Records, 2001

The last time that I reviewed a CD by the singer/songwriter Tom Russell was his album, about the Irish disapora- “The Man From God Knows Where”. Hey, wait a minute- how can you go from the Irish diaspora to searching for the Old American West like that? Well, that answer is easy- not all the Irish stayed in the Eastern cities after heading out of the old country over the past 150 years or so. Some, like members of other ethnic groups, headed west when things dried up or got too “hot” in the East.

That is the common design for Russell’s drive to find the key to the old West, and to sing of it, to sing of it like Walt Whitman did in his poetry that sang of America. Although the unabashed promise that Whitman sang of has turned somewhat rancid and wearisome in the last hundred years or so that is where the meat of Russell’s work lies.

Take the song “Touch Of Evil” (title and subject from the classic Orson Welles film), for example, Russell captures the mean streets of the borders, between countries, cultures, and personal circumstances and exposes their hard edges. In short, my kind of songwriter. “Hills Of Old Juarez” and “Where The Dream Begins” are other outstanding examples of that same idea. If you too are searching for the meaning of the Old West, the real Old West, in song and the New West, as well, listen up here.

Touch Of Evil
Tom Russell

G C G C/G
The night my baby left me I crossed the bridge to Juarez avenue
C G C
Like that movie "Touch of evil" I got the Orson Wells, Marlene Dietrich
G
blues
C G
Where Orson walks in to the whore house and
C G C/G
Marlene says "Man, you look like hel l"
G
And Orson's chewing on a chocolate bar
C/G
as the l ights go on in the old Blue Star hotel
C Bm
"Read my future" says old Orson, "down inside the tea leaves of your cup"
Am
And she says " You ain't got no future, Hank,
C D G
I believe your f uture's all used up"

C G
Why don't you touch me anymore? Why don't you touch me anymore?
D G G7
Why do you run away and hide? You know it hurts me deep inside
C G
Why do you close the bedroom door? This is a brutal little war
D C G
What good is all this fightin' for if you don't touch me any more?

G C/G
(Chords like 1st verse, until notice)
G C G C/G
They shot "A touch of evil" in a Venice, California colo ny
C G
And I grew near those dead canals
C G
where they filmed the longest pan shot ever made
C G C G C/G
Now I'm thinking a bout the movie, the bar I'm in, the bridge, the Rio Grande
G C/G
Now I'm t hinking about my baby and the borderline 'tween a woman and a man
C Bm
I was d runk as Orson Wells the night I crawled backwards out the door

Am C D G
I was screaming "Baby, baby how come you touch me any more?"

CHORUS:

G C/G x3

(Chords like 2nd verse)
G C G C/G
Oh, some one rolled the credits on twenty years of love turned dark and raw
C G C G
Not a technicolor l ove film, it's a brutal document, it's film noir
C G C G C/G
And it's all played out on a borderline and the actors are tragically miscast
G C/G
Like a Mexican bur lesk show where the characters are wearing comic masks
C Bm
Oh, it's love and love alone I cry to the barmen in this Juarez water hole
Am C D G
As we raise a glass to Orson and "A touch of evil" livin' our souls

CHORUS:

*Searching For The Old American West In Song- The Music Of Tom Russell

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Tom Russell performing "The Ballad Of Ira Hayes."

CD Review

Indians Cowboys Horses Dogs, Tom Russell, Hightone Records, 2004

The last time that I reviewed a CD by the singer/songwriter Tom Russell was his album, about the Irish disapora- “The Man From God Knows Where”. Hey, wait a minute- how can you go from the Irish diaspora to searching for the Old American West like that? Well, that answer is easy- not all the Irish stayed in the Eastern cities after heading out of the old country over the past 150 years or so. Some, like members of other ethnic groups, headed west when things dried up or got too “hot” in the East.

That is the common design for Russell’s drive to find the key to the old West, and to sing of it, to sing of it like Walt Whitman did in his poetry that sang of America. Although the unabashed promise that Whitman sang of has turned somewhat rancid and wearisome in the last hundred years or so that is where the meat of Russell’s work lies.

In this album the motif shifts a shade in that Russell takes a deep, deep look at the stormy (to be kind ) relationships between whites and Native Americans in the struggle over the land, and, in the final analysis over cultural respect (or rather lack of it). That is always brought home to me in “The Ballad of Ira Hayes”. Ira Hayes was one the planters of the American flag at Iwo Jima in the Pacific War in World War II. For a minute he was a hero then went just as quickly back to being….”just another drunken Indian”. In that same vein here, “Tonight We Ride” and “All This Way For A Short Ride” stick out.


"The Ballad Of Ira Hayes"-Bob Dylan's Lyrics

Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the Phoenix Valley in Arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now Ira's folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white man's greed
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

They started up Iwo Jima Hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the Indian Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

Now Ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a Pima Indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what Ira had done and the wind did the Indian's dance
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

And Ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like you'd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died
Call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, Drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking Indian or the marine who went to war.

*Of Cowboys and Cowgirls- The Music Of Carol Noonan

Click on the headline link to a "YouTube" film clip of Carol Noonan performing "Danny Boy". Yes, I know that is not a classic of the Old West (of America, at least) but I couldn't find anything from the "Big Iro"n CD.

CD Review

Big Iron, Carol Noonan, Noonan Music, 2001

I spent some little time a couple of years ago going over the transformation of the American Old West of cowboys, wild boys, fast guns and faster reputations into the New West populated by characters like Duane, in the series of novels written by Texas writer/bibliophile and flea marketeer, Larry McMurtry. Apparently, the myth of the Old West dies hard though, and for this review I am glad of it.

Why? For singer/songwriter and 'wannabe' cowgirl Carol Noonan (and friends) from ….Maine has given us a potpourri of very nice renditions of some of the old classic Western songs that people of a certain age, my age, grew up with as we absorbed our version of the Old West, via 1950s black and white television, of the likes of Hopalong Cassidy, the Cisco Kid and the Lone Ranger and his sidekick, Tonto.

Of course it helps if one has a beautiful voice, some good instruments and some good friends to harmonize with on this self-produced (I believe) CD. All that is left is to pick a few numbers that stand out in an album that is filled with them. “Red River Valley”, “High Noon”, “Streets Of Laredo”, and “Wayward Wind” readily come to mind. That list is "high" Old West, indeed.

The Streets of Laredo
arranged & adapted by Arlo Guthrie

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo one day
I spied a poor cowboy wrapped up in white linen
All wrapped in white linen as cold as the clay

"I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy"
These words he did say as I proudly stepped by
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story
I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die

"'Twas once in the saddle I used to go ridin'
Once in the saddle I used to go gay
First lead to drinkin', and then to card-playing
I'm shot in the breast and I'm dying today

"Let six jolly cowboys come carry my coffin
Let six pretty gals come to carry my pall
Throw bunches of roses all over my coffin
Throw roses to deaden the clods as they fall

"Oh, beat the drum slowly, and play the fife lowly
And play the dead march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley and lay the earth o'er me
For I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong"

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly
And bitterly wept as we carried him along
For we all loved our comrade, so brave, young and handsome
We all loved our comrade although he done wrong

©1991 Arloco Music Inc
All Rights Reserved.

*Those Oklahoma Hills Back Home- The Cowboy Songs Of Woody Guthrie

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Doing "So Long Its Been Good To Know You".

CD REVIEW

Buffalo Skinners: The Asch Recordings, Volume 4, Woody Guthrie, Smithsonian/Folkways, 1999

As I have mentioned on early reviews concerning the music of folklorist Woody Guthrie if any of the older generation, the “Generation of ‘68” needs an introduction to Woody Guthrie then I ask what planet have you been on. Woody’s “This Land Is Your Land” is practically a national anthem (and in some quarters is treated as just that). Not as well known, but which now should be rectified with the production of this fourth volume of Woody’s work from his most prolific Asch Recording period of the 1940’s, is his rather large compilation of Western cowboy-oriented material. This, as the title of this entry notes, reflects those Oklahoma hills back home from whence he came.

Woody as a folklorist, as well as a singer and songwriter, was not interested in the cowboy as created by the movies, especially the one-dimensional one created in the hey day of the cowboy movie in the 1930’s, but the real one. The one who spend many a lonely night out on the trail herding cattle to market; who went hungry and dusty for long periods; and, who was nicked up, kicked up and busted up by man and animal alike. And the one who liked his entertainments short and sweet, a little simple music, a lot of simple liquor and plenty of women on those raucous Saturday nights off the range. Not much room in those tales, either for 1930’s Hollywood or Woody’s for that matter, for the ones portrayed in literature by Larry McMurtry or Cormac McCarthy or on film by “Brokeback Mountain” or those not recognized until much later like those of the black cowboys of the Oklahoma range, but those are stories for another day.

This compilation covers a wide variety of songs that pay honor, justifiably or not, to the norms of the cowboy profession. “Ranger’s Command” and “Buffalo Skinners” give a sense of the hard life on the trail and the pitfalls of ignorant cowboys being taken in by primitive agrarian or industrial capitalists or their agents-and, as in the case, of “Buffalo Skinners” the quick and sure retribution when the rank and file cowboy got his dander up. Songs of the trail and its travails get a workout here, as well, in “Little Dogies” and “Chisholm Trail”. The loneliness of the life and the vagaries of love in such a transient profession are reflected in “Cowboy Waltz” and “Red River Valley”. The theme of ’rough and ready’ justice is revealed in songs like “Slipknot” and “Billy The Kid”. Overall these twenty- six tracks, several of which also have Woody's long time traveling friend Cisco Houston accompanying him(a man whose career and place in the folk pantheon deserves more attention separately), bring to life the ‘real’ cowboy experience as it was known in Woody’s time.

As always with a Smithsonian/Folkways production the CD includes a booklet of copious liner notes that detail, for the folk historian or the novice alike, the history of each song and its genesis. I am always surprised by the insightful detail provided and as much as I know about this milieu always find something new in them. Moreover, the information here provided inevitably details the rather mundane genesis of some very famous songs like “Pretty Boy Floyd”.

Note: I want to address separately the subject of one of Woody’s most famous songs, and perhaps one of the first of his songs that I remember hearing back in the days, the above-mentioned “Pretty Boy Floyd”. I have reviewed Larry McMurtry’s novel of the same title elsewhere in this space. That novel details the actual ‘exploits of this notorious murderer at the tail end of the Old West period (and maybe, really, the post-Old West period). Woody’s version reflects a 1930’s romantic notion of this primordial outlaw as a modern day Robin Hood. Thus, even a realist like Woody, who could write with compassion and wit about the real sufferings of his beloved Okies and others, got caught up in the myths of the Old West that have sustained generations of Americans, including this reviewer, eagerly looking for a heroic past. For all its false premises though, Woody’s “Pretty Boy” has a line that still has a kernel of folk wisdom that is what drew me to the song in the first place-“some men will rob you with a six gun, and some with a fountain pen”. Sounds prophetic, right?


Pretty Boy Floyd

If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

***Larry McMurtry’s “Telegraph Days”- Thoroughly Modern…Nellie- A Modern Man Looks At The Old West

Click on title to link to Larry McMurtry's other career as a review of, mostly, Old West literature and themes, for the "New York Review Of Books"


Book Review

Telegraph Days: A Novel, Larry McMurtry, Pocket Star Books, New York, 2006

This is something of an encore by the reviewer of the work of Texas writer, bibliophile, pack rat and Old West aficionado Larry McMurtry. This space is strewn with reviews of his work, good and bad. The centerpiece of the reviews has thus far been “The Last Picture Show “series but I have commented on other efforts, in modern settings and from the Old West. I have also commented on McMurtry’s successes (and failures) in attempting to use a female narrator to put forth his viewpoint. This has been, I am afraid, a very iffy proposition. Nevertheless, here in the character of the post-modern (oops) Old West female narrator and Type –A personality Nellie Courtright he has hit pay dirt.

Old Nellie tells her saga of her interaction with the lives, lust, loves and sheer balderdash of many of the iconic figures of the Old West in the last third of the 19th century like Bill Cody, The Earps and (be still my heart) Bill Hickok, warts and all. And along the way she tells us how it was to be an ‘uppity’ (and successful) professional woman in what was very much a man’s world (and least that has been how it has always advertised). Then there is, this is a novel after all, the bravado and bragging of her various sexual exploits that may, or may not, have made grandmother blush. All in all a fast read and although not a classic McMurtry effort not bad compared with some of his other later work. I commented elsewhere that he seemed to be running out of steam in his late work. This effort staunches that a little.

A Larry McMurtry Potpourri- Part Two

BOOK REVIEWS

Loop Group, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 2004

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have “discovered” this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get “high” on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer’s career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author’s output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. "Loop Group" definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life’s issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his “high” story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, unfortunately, is not the case here. Why?

From page one of Loop Group McMurtry gave no reason for this reviewer to delve into the characters, their lives, their problems or for that matter their solutions to those problems. Here a couple of long time, native middle level female denizens of the Hollywood film wars, Maggie and Connie, who have known each other forever, and have competed with each other for men, among other things, are struggling with their mortality. That is the unkind fate of all sixty somethings although it is not clear whether that fact alone is worthy of literary attention, at least to this sixty-something reviewer. Moreover, Mr. McMurtry has, at least in some of his 21st century writing, been bitten by the “magical realism” bug that has become a fashion among the literati of late. His plot here, such as it is, has the pair working through interminable problems in order to go on a trip to Texas so they can find some lost 'fountain of youth' there in order to fortify themselves for the last period of their lives. Along the way they encounter a series of misadventures that defy description. Hence the magical realism tag.

Moreover, interspersed throughout, to further plague Maggie and Connie are the problems confronting Maggie’s three married adult daughters with children and Connie’s unmarried, recovering drug-addicted son. The sum total of these problems is a quick sociological look at every contemporary problem of American family life not excluding the sexual ones- in the space of a few weeks. Needless to say we are today also in the “new age” when everyone must have a sexual identity and therefore a crisis of sexual identity. This little trope is also on display in McMurtry’s "When the Light Goes Out" (2007) - the “final” segment of "The Last Picture Show’s" Duane Moore story as he hits his mid-sixties.

In retrospect "Loop Group" is the preparation for "When The Lights Goes Out" except from the female perspective. That, in a nutshell, is the real problem here. As will be apparent in my review of "Leaving Cheyenne" that will follow this one McMurtry is not particularly good with individual female character development when women are in the “starring role” by themselves. I had virtually no empathy for either Maggie or Connie. Nor did I have it for Harmony in "Desert Rose", another female-centered saga . Molly, an extremely rich and independent character, of "Leaving Cheyenne" and Karla and Jacy of "The Last Picture Show" series are very different stories. A further problem along that same line is that when McMurtry leaves his Texas locale he tends to lose his way. That happened here with the Hollywood setting, it happened in "Desert Rose" set in Las Vegas and "All My Friend Are Going To Be Stranger" set mainly in Northern California. Give me Karla, Jacy, Molly, give me Texas but Mr. McMurtry please put out the light on these “magically realistic” efforts. Enough said.

A Texas Love Story

Leaving Cheyenne, Larry McMurtry, Texas A&M University Press, College Station, Texas, 1962

The first two paragraphs were used above in reviewing "Loop Group"

To readers of this space it is no surprise that I am reviewing a Larry McMurtry novel. I have "discovered" this little Texas gem of an author recently (although I knew of him and some of his work earlier). Naturally, once I get "high" on an author I tend to read everything that I can get my hands on. A partial reason for that is that the number of fiction writers who hold my attention is rather limited, but mainly I like to see the high and low sides of the writer's career so that I can revel in the reflected glory of my very good choice in picking the author to comment on. I also tend to read an author's output as I lay my hands on his or her work rather than any particular order. Thus, at present I am reviewing this late work (2004) and an early work Leaving Cheyenne (1962) at the same time. Loop Group definitely suffers in comparison to that earlier work.

If I tried to put my finger on what is the outstanding attribute of a good Larry McMurtry read that would most probably be that he is a thoughtful and credible storyteller. The structure of such a story permits one to sift through life's issues whether it is the vagaries of coming of age, the trauma of a mid-life crisis or the grimness of the struggle against mortality. This, moreover, has nothing to with locale or occupation. As a die-hard older urban Northerner Western stories, modern or from the Old West, would not usually be my natural choice of reading. However, when McMurtry is in his "high" story telling mode and he develops incidents that are believable and has characters do things that seem within the realm of human experience -and that permit one to care about and reflect upon the fates of the characters if only for the length of the story- then he is a premier American writer. That, fortunately, is the case here. Here we have "high" McMurtry. Why?

There are many ways to tell a love story. There are many ways to conceive of a love triangle, as here with the saga of the lives of Gid, Johnny and Molly out in West Texas, just 'East of Eden' in Thalia by McMurtry's lights, in roughly the middle third of the 20th century. There are many ways to put obstacles in the way of a satisfactory resolution of a love triangle in puritanically-driven America. McMurtry has come up with a very innovative method of doing this. In the first section we get the all the tensions of young love, hindered by a father-inspired driven sense of responsibility, as told by Gid. In the second section we get the mixed fruits of that puritan sense of responsibility on Gid's part, the lack of it on Johnny's part and also of girlish indecision as told by Molly, with the proviso that as she tells her tale she is a mother who has lost two sons to war and paid a pretty high price for that earlier indecision. In the final segment we get the inevitable struggle against the vicissitudes of mortality, as told humorously and with a little pathos by Johnny.

This is nicely done and the individual stories are woven together almost seamlessly so that the first event concerning Gid's and Johnny's rivalry for Molly described by Gid in Chapter One gets a very different look as told by Johnny at the end forty years later. Moreover, with some other nice humorous touches added alone the way concerning some of the minor characters like Molly's father and an old goat herder, including animals, as well as exploration of the necessary hardships of running a ranch, a labor-intensive business operation subject to all the randomness of nature. But, better than that we are given an emotional roller coaster ride as these three West Texas characters try to make sense of life, their previous histories and their entanglements together. If "Loop Group" was a low in the literary marathon McMurtry is running then "Leaving Cheyenne" is prima facie evidence for his honored place in the American literary pantheon. Kudos.

A Larry McMurtry Potpourri

Leaving Las Vegas

The Desert Rose, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1983

The last time, I believe, that it I mentioned Las Vegas in this space was regarding a review of the late Hunter Thompson’s classic “gonzo” piece "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" that used that city as the backdrop for his drug-addled adventures spoofing the rubes. The last time that I mentioned the author of the book under review, Larry McMurtry, was just recently praising his Texas trilogy that was based on his classic 1950’s coming of age tale "The Last Picture Show". In a sense McMurtry tackles the scenes that the drug-rattled Thompson failed to get- a view of those who actually live and work in Vegas 24/7/365. That story has a certain pathos that McMurtry is able to milk. Maybe not in the definitive way that he can milk small-town Texas for a story but he milks it nevertheless.

Hollywood and Las Vegas have stood culturally in America as meccas for generations of young girls from places like Oklahoma and guys from Kansas as places to achieve fame, if only for that proverbial 'fifteen minutes'. That is one of the strands that McMurtry weaved into his tale of the loves, dreams, losses and forfeitures of Las Vegas showgirl extra-ordinaire Harmony and her ill-fated marriage to that Kansas boy, Ross.

This is also a story of generations as the product of the marriage, Pepper, although only a teenager seems destined to avoid most of the mistakes that “mom” made by having more talent - for picking right guys, rejecting bad guys and being a dancing prodigy rather than a mere showgirl. The problem, however, is that for Pepper to rise Harmony must fall. The two cannot share center stage in the casinos or in life. Moreover, in a youth-crazed culture epitomized to the nth degree in Vegas aging “mom” cannot fight the fates, even if she had the capacity to do so. That is the drama that centrally drives this little piece.

Along the way we get to look at the lives and loves of the people who hold Las Vegas together (if not themselves). We get to view lifelong Vegas denizens, the inevitable gay wardrobe guy, assorted talented or talentless showgirls and their trials and tribulations, sundry backstage types who share the dreams of the spotlight. Is this a McMurtry work that you must read? No, I already told you that "Last Picture Show" trilogy is a must read. But if you have a few hours, and want to read about what Thompson missed on his sojourn, then read this little novel.


Portrait Of A Writer As A Young Man

All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1972.

As is usually the case when I get excited about an author’s work I tend to delve into all the work in order to see which way he or she is heading. That is the case here with Larry McMurtry. I have just finished reading his "The Last Picture Show" trilogy ("The Last Picture Show"; "Texasville"; and, "Duane’s Depressed") about coming of age in small town Texas, having one’s mid-life crisis there and, in the end, struggling against the strains of mortality there as well. The cumulative effect of this work was a five-star review. Here we step back to early McMurtry and while the promise is certainly there as well as his quirky look at modern life this is the work of a rising star writer not of a master writer.

Why? Well, for one thing the subject matter. All fictional writing in the final analysis may be autobiographical, consciously or unconsciously, but here the trials and tribulations of a young Texas writer who heads to California to find himself after the budding prominence of the publication of his first book and a movie offer is, well, just a little too precious. Moreover, the inevitable romantic problems of twenty-something males (and, by now in the 2000s, females) has been done to death. Nothing really jumps out here other than some cogent observations about the foibles of human nature as strained through the California mill. My advice to Danny, the protagonist writer here is –Go east, young man, go east back to Texas. That’s where your pot of gold is. Do you need to read this book? If you have time. Do you need to read "The Last Picture Show" trilogy. Damn right. That’s the different in a nutshell.

The Eyes Of Texas Are Upon You- The Work Of Larry McMurtry

BOOK REVIEWS

As mentioned previously I have developed a strong interest in the literary works of Larry McMurtry the Texas bibliophile, Western aficionado and pack rat. At the time I had only read The Last Picture Show part of his trilogy on small town oil boom (or bust)Texas. In the interest of completeness I have in included that first review along with the two other volumes that make up this work.

DVD/BOOK Review

The Last Picture Show, Larry McMurtry, Orion Mass Market Publications, 2000

There has been no shortage of coming of age stories in modern American literature. J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye is merely the most famous and probably widely known of the genre. Here Larry McMurtry, the Texas bibliophile, Old West aficionado and pack rat gives us his take on growing up absurd in a faded semi- boom town Texas during the Korean War era of the early 1950's.

Although the locale is different from Catcher in the Rye the issues raised by the teenagers who drive the story and those of their perplexed and clueless parents are the same. And what do those issues entail? Sex, the meaning of existence, sex, what to do on Friday night, sex, what to do on Saturday night, sex- well you get the drift. And those dilemmas of youth and its fight for recognition as presented through the main characters Sonny and Duane are in McMurtry's hands well thought out and, at times, poignant. The attention to detail that McMurtry is noted for is on full display in the interplay between the 'jock' students, the nerds and the 'in' crowd. High school football, the whys and wherefores of the high school classroom and the shear fight to find one's own identity in this mix all contribute to a very strong trip down memory lane for this reader.

From my own personal experience I know how tough it was to grow up in the 1950's and it is good to see that there are indeed some universal ailments that are common to the 'tribal community' called youth in America. Moreover, read this book because it also has a few things to say about the adults, especially Sonny's lover the older woman and the football coach's wife Ruth, and their dilemmas as well. Damn, McMurtry is singing my song.

The film version of this book strongly evokes visually the points that McMurtry tries to make in the book. It helps that he was the screenwriter in this effort. Fine performances were turned in by the young Timothy Bottoms, Jeff Bridges and Cybil Sheppard as the object of Sonny and Duane's attentions . Also by Ben Johnson and Cloris Leachman, as Sonny's older woman lover.

Boom or Bust?

Texasville, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1987

In the blink of an eye it seems we can go from a coming of age story to a mid-life crisis story. Or maybe it is just changing from one book to another. Ya, right? There may be a space of thirty years between the action in The Last Picture Show and Texasville but it hardly a blink of the eye. It takes effort to build up to the mid-life crisis (or better crises) that form the central idea of this novel as those of the generation of '68 and older are painfully aware. But so be it.

The last time we saw the characters who people these novels was Duane getting on the bus in Thalia to go off to basic training in 1954 and ultimately, he thinks, to Korea after a fight with his best friend Sonny over, who else, the flirty local femme fatale Jacy. They are both bewitched by her. The result of that fight was that Sonny lost the sight in one eye. That, however, after a thirty year interval was not the worst of it as a read of this book will confirm. Here, in any case, we have the old gang Duane, Sonny, the sultry Jacy and some new arrivals- Karla, Duane's wife, a slew of kids, a beloved dog Shorty and a cast of a score of locals some who have been resurrected from The Last Picture Show, others who have drifted in with the oil boom that is ready to bust in the 1980's. In any case, for those who are interested, if you read the whole book, you will find out what happened to every character from the Last Picture Show. That is the good part.

The bad part is that this thing is just too long. Duane's, Karla's, Jacy's, and the whole host of 40-somethings who are going through the storms of mid-life crisis stories are not enough to warrant a five hundred plus page book. Hell, this book took longer to read that some mid-life crises, especially Duane's. Even if you add in celebration of a town centennial to `liven' things up the thread is not there. The marital problems and infidelities of small town Texas, the bust up of a man's life work due to the international oil glut and assorted other problems from the 1980's when oil was only about fifteen dollars a barrel pale in comparison with $100 a barrel oil now. Those are `real' problems. That little difficulty of length aside, which keeps this from being a five-star review, McMurtry cannot write a bad novel, at least to these eyes thus far. Larry, just make this kind of story 400 pages or so, you know as long as it would take to tell of your own mid-life crisis. Okay?

In Search Of Lost Time

Duane’s Depressed, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 1999

In the blink of an eye it seems we can go in this The Last Picture Show trilogy from a coming of age story in the Last Picture Show to a mid-life crisis story in Texasville to the struggle against mortality during old age story here. Or maybe it is just changing from one book to another. Ya, right? There may be a space of thirty years between the action in The Last Picture Show and Texasville and another fourteen between Texasville and Duane's Depressed but it hardly a blink of the eye. It takes effort to build up to the mid-life crisis (or better crises) and then apply those lessons to the struggle against mortality that form the central idea of this novel as those of the generation of '68 and older are painfully aware. But so be it.

By one of life's little quirks this reviewer is the same age as Duane in this phase of his life's story, 62. Therefore the reviewer can sympathize, understand and relate to the struggle against the vicissitudes of mortality that, in the final analysis, Duane is struggling against. Duane's whole life has been consumed by the notion of duty, doing the right thing and keeping his own counsel to the exclusion of having any close personal relationships, including with his wife Karla. One day he decides, rightly by this reviewer's lights, to chuck his old life, at least the symbols of it. The tale told here revolves around that break out, the effect on his marriage and the subsequent lost of his dear wife Karla in a fatal automobile accident and his struggle to find a new place in his world without her. Along the way Jacy and Sonny, the companions of his youth in what seems like an eternity ago in the Last Picture Show also pass from the scene. In an odd sense Duane is the last one standing.

Needless to say all of this introspection is going to take a lot out of a very stoic man like Duane. Moreover, a review of his whole life means a look at lots of things that are not obvious. Probably the best little literary trick that McMurtry uses here is to link Duane up with a sexually unattainable woman psychiatrist who recommends reading Marcel Proust's Remembrances of Things Past as a form of discovery. This, as some readers may know, is a monumental work that has baffled more than one intellectual as to its meaning. Hell, on reflection, it probably baffled Proust. The trick is that uneducated but intrepid Duane actually struggled to read it over the course of a year. I suggest that the alternate translation of Proust's book is more appropriate to what Duane was looking for in this novel-In Search Of Lost Time. That, my friends, is what we all face as we face mortality. If you are going to read anything by Larry McMurtry read this trilogy. That's the ticket.


Duane’s World, Part IV

When The Lights Go Out: A Novel, Larry McMurtry, Simon and Schuster, New York, 2007

I have recently fulsomely praised Larry McMurtry’s The Last Picture Show trilogy (The Last Picture Show; Texasville: Duane’s Depressed) a saga centered on the coming of age, mid-life crisis and struggle with mortality of one small town Texas oilman and good old boy Duane Moore. Frankly, I thought with the review of Duane’s Depressed concerning Duane’s struggle to find relevance in his life as he hovers around old age and faces the grim reaper that I was done with this series. Needless to say that was not the case. Although I wish it were so.

I mentioned in my review of The Last Picture Show that the coming of age story described there boiled down to what to do on high school Friday night-the search for sexual companionship. What to do on high school Saturday night-the search for sex- you get the drift. Apparently in his dotage Duane is hung up on that same aspect of the tragedy behind that human drive except he has included weekdays. That, however, is not enough to sustain this slim novel. Moreover, I believe that Mr. McMurtry knows that as he has tried to spruce up his plot and characters with every current sociological trend known to the American scene- the search for a trophy wife, daughter Nellie’s gayness, daughter Julie’s nunnery prospects, his lesbian psychiatrist’s off-hand desire to throw away all her profession ethics for a chance to go to bed with Duane and the South Asian invasion of the mom and pop business marketplace, reliance on sexual aids, etc. Come on now, Larry this is not even Austin.

I once commented in a review of Howard Fast’s Immigrant series set in California over a couple of generations that during the course of the work his characters intersected every possible leftist political impulse in pursue of filling out the story line. I mentioned, at some point well before the last book, that the series had run out of steam. That, sad to say, has happened to Mr. McMurtry here. His story has run out of steam. What is left? Duane as the “stud” at his Thalia (or Wichita Falls) assisted living facility. He deserves better. Larry, put out the light. Please.