How to Spot a Bad Western
High-body-count westerns involve a lot of slaughter but also shield the reader from the true consequences of all that bloodshed. Here are some of the attributes:
Cannon Fodder: The thirty or forty people slated to croak in one of these novels are not depicted as real human beings. That is to keep readers from sympathizing with the doomed, or being revolted by the amount of murder on the pages. So these characters barely have names. They are Charlie or Buzz or Red, but are not described. They have no spouses or children or parents or history or dreams or tender feelings. They are not in love. No loving spouse weeps at the side of these fallen men. We wouldn't know one from another. When a bullet fells them, a reader scarcely notices.
Wounds: In violent westerns, people are rarely wounded. The reader is never exposed to the suffering and cruelty of bad wounds. So we never see a character die in agony, slowly, weeping, desperate, in excruciating pain, sobbing for help. They are simply shot and vanish from the story and the reader never is exposed to the effects of the bullets. Miraculously, no bullet ever strikes a man's private parts, or renders him incompetent, or steals his speech from him or permanently blinds him. The authors of these stories steer the readers' eyes elsewhere.
Lingering Death: Likewise, readers who devour all this violence are carefully shielded from lingering death. In violent westerns, almost all dying in immediate. No one lies in his blankets for hours or days or weeks or more, while life drains away from him and hope flees. Readers are shielded from the reality of long, bitter, brutal, painful dying. That is to protect readers from understanding the true nature of the genre fiction they are devouring.
Absurdity: A favorite example, which I read a few years ago, opens this way. Two Wyoming ranchers, looking for "action" (gunfights) in Texas happen upon a large bunch of horsemen chasing a wagon filled with women. The two ranchers whip out their carbines and attack the dozen or so armed horsemen, eventually killing them all. Then they wander among the dead. Wonder of wonders, they know all these Texans, and name all the badmen. Then they abandon the bodies and their saddled horses, and go chase the wagon and woo the women. The novel goes downhill from there, reaching depths of absurdity I've never seen in print before or since. As always, the protagonists survive virtually unscathed, so they can be stuffed into another series novel. The ludicrous scene swiftly vanishes into the next absurdity.
Moral Equivalence: In violent westerns, there is no moral or ethical difference between the heroes and their adversaries. They think and act alike. No one is more ethical or higher-minded than the others. No one dreams of a settled, civilized world. That prevents the reader from taking sides, and allows a reader to absorb the bloodbath without any allegiance to anyone in the novel. Once again, the author's real purpose is to shield the reader from the consequences of the violence portrayed in the novel.
Lack of Plot: There is only one underlying plot to these gunman westerns: Who will be standing at the end? Or what killer bunch will outlast the other killer bunch? The whole drama lies in the fighting, and there is no nuance that might lead a reader away from the riveting slaughter.
Next time you see a violent western in the mass-market racks, look for these attributes. They are all part of the formula.
Cannon Fodder: The thirty or forty people slated to croak in one of these novels are not depicted as real human beings. That is to keep readers from sympathizing with the doomed, or being revolted by the amount of murder on the pages. So these characters barely have names. They are Charlie or Buzz or Red, but are not described. They have no spouses or children or parents or history or dreams or tender feelings. They are not in love. No loving spouse weeps at the side of these fallen men. We wouldn't know one from another. When a bullet fells them, a reader scarcely notices.
Wounds: In violent westerns, people are rarely wounded. The reader is never exposed to the suffering and cruelty of bad wounds. So we never see a character die in agony, slowly, weeping, desperate, in excruciating pain, sobbing for help. They are simply shot and vanish from the story and the reader never is exposed to the effects of the bullets. Miraculously, no bullet ever strikes a man's private parts, or renders him incompetent, or steals his speech from him or permanently blinds him. The authors of these stories steer the readers' eyes elsewhere.
Lingering Death: Likewise, readers who devour all this violence are carefully shielded from lingering death. In violent westerns, almost all dying in immediate. No one lies in his blankets for hours or days or weeks or more, while life drains away from him and hope flees. Readers are shielded from the reality of long, bitter, brutal, painful dying. That is to protect readers from understanding the true nature of the genre fiction they are devouring.
Absurdity: A favorite example, which I read a few years ago, opens this way. Two Wyoming ranchers, looking for "action" (gunfights) in Texas happen upon a large bunch of horsemen chasing a wagon filled with women. The two ranchers whip out their carbines and attack the dozen or so armed horsemen, eventually killing them all. Then they wander among the dead. Wonder of wonders, they know all these Texans, and name all the badmen. Then they abandon the bodies and their saddled horses, and go chase the wagon and woo the women. The novel goes downhill from there, reaching depths of absurdity I've never seen in print before or since. As always, the protagonists survive virtually unscathed, so they can be stuffed into another series novel. The ludicrous scene swiftly vanishes into the next absurdity.
Moral Equivalence: In violent westerns, there is no moral or ethical difference between the heroes and their adversaries. They think and act alike. No one is more ethical or higher-minded than the others. No one dreams of a settled, civilized world. That prevents the reader from taking sides, and allows a reader to absorb the bloodbath without any allegiance to anyone in the novel. Once again, the author's real purpose is to shield the reader from the consequences of the violence portrayed in the novel.
Lack of Plot: There is only one underlying plot to these gunman westerns: Who will be standing at the end? Or what killer bunch will outlast the other killer bunch? The whole drama lies in the fighting, and there is no nuance that might lead a reader away from the riveting slaughter.
Next time you see a violent western in the mass-market racks, look for these attributes. They are all part of the formula.
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