Years ago, when asked to blurb yet another gunman western, I realized something was absent: the West. There was nothing about the vast reaches of the West, its climate, its impact on people, its drought, its history, its tribes. The story I was reading may as well have been set in Peoria or Keokuk.
I realized that was true of nearly all the gunman-type westerns I had read in recent times, many of them written by people who had never explored the West or its distant valleys or its social codes or its impact on emotions. I also realized that I had always included the West in my western novels; it was omnipresent and a part of the story.
I resolved not to review ersatz westerns, in which the American West was missing from the very genre whose name it bore. I've stuck with that ever since.
Published on October 22, 2014 09:55