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Legends West #1
Warlock
Fine Ottocento, sudovest americano. Warlock è una cittadina mineraria di frontiera in rapida espansione; insieme ai commerci, fioriscono il gioco d'azzardo e la prostituzione, gli scioperi e le scorribande dei cowboy. Mentre l'anziano governatore, il generale Peach, si crogiola ancora nel ricordo delle guerre contro gli indiani e di un'epoca eroica ormai da tempo superata, i cittadini sono frustrati dall'impotenza della legge ufficiale e decidono di assoldare un marshal privato, Clay Blaisedell. Armato delle sue due pistole dal calcio dorato, Blaisedell dovrà fare i conti con il capo dei cowboy Abe McQuown, ma anche con il vicesceriffo Bud Gannon, uomo ligio alle regole e dotato di un diverso, più mite senso della giustizia. Sullo sfondo, vediamo scorrere le vicende di un'umanità turbolenta e imprevedibile: minatori in lotta per una vita migliore, spregiudicati proprietari di saloon, prostitute in cerca di una seconda occasione, uomini di legge alcolizzati, dottori dall'idealismo incrollabile.
685 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1958
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17626 people want to read
About the author
Oakley Hall
42 books92 followersOakley Hall also wrote under the nom de plume of O.M. Hall and Jason Manor.
Oakley Maxwell Hall was an American novelist. He was born in San Diego, California, graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, and served in the Marines during World War II. Some of his mysteries were published under the pen names "O.M. Hall" and "Jason Manor." Hall received his Master of Fine Arts in English from the Iowa Writers' Workshop at the University of Iowa.
Oakley Maxwell Hall was an American novelist. He was born in San Diego, California, graduated from the University of California, Berkeley, and served in the Marines during World War II. Some of his mysteries were published under the pen names "O.M. Hall" and "Jason Manor." Hall received his Master of Fine Arts in English from the Iowa Writers' Workshop at the University of Iowa.
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January 18, 2026
THE TIMES THEY ARE A CHANGIN’
In copertina
1880, in un non meglio precisato luogo del sudovest degli States, terra di confine. West.
Il solito paese piccolino che si apre ai lati della Main creando la più classica delle scacchiere, case di legno che prendono fuoco solo a guardarle, polvere sollevata dal vento ma anche da piedi e zoccoli, il saloon con la tradizionale porta a vento dove il whiskey disseta più dell’acqua, commercianti che difendono il loro piccolo impero anche se è soprattutto un feudo, cinturoni fondine Colt Winchester. E se la gente gira armata, chiaro che prima o poi qualcuno sparerà.
Ci sono prostitute, gioco d’azzardo, due pianoforti ma un solo pianista. Miniere, ergo minatori, ergo incidenti di miniera. Si estrae argento.
I cittadini “onesti” (= quelli con più soldi) mettono insieme un comitato: ci sono i soliti cowboy sbruffoni che fanno i bulli e i padroni e terrorizzano gli “onesti” con le loro scorribande. La legge del più forte.
È il solito west regno di sopraffazione e violenza, dove la vita umana vale meno di una pallottola o di uno shottino.
I quattro protagonisti del film omonimo uscito già l’anno dopo il romanzo, 1959, diretto da Edward Dmytryk.
Ma Oakley Hall rimescola le carte, rende il gioco più complicato e meno schematico: sulla scacchiera di questa cittadina - Warlock = stregone – chi è bianco e chi nero, chi buono e chi cattivo, chi giusto e chi sbagliato? Dov’è che inizia il bene e finisce il male se per mantenere ordine e “legge” gli “onesti” devono ingaggiare un uomo con le pistole dal calcio dorato disposto a muoversi dove la legge non arriva?
D’altra parte quest’opera è un romanzo, e il compito della letteratura romanzesca è la ricerca della verità, non dei fatti.
I nativi sono apache, ma rimangono sullo sfondo, quello che viene detto è che le giacche blu li inseguono e sterminano, loro si difendono razziando. Ma nessuno di loro diventa personaggio. Più facile incontrare tra queste pagine un bianco ladro di mandrie.
Curioso notare come col passaparola, senza bisogno di tam tam, le notizie a Warlock e dintorni viaggiavano più veloci delle news e di internet.
Henry Fonda è Claid Blaisedell e Richard Widmark è John Gannon.
Uscito nel 1958, ancora in epoca di liste nere volute dal senatore McCarthy, Warlock sconfessa mito e leggenda, paperback di massa televisione e cinema: i cowboy erano dei puzzolenti zozzoni bulli violenti prevaricatori della peggior specie, quella con la legge del branco tatuata sull’ombelico. Il lavoro altrui vale poco e la legge non lo protegge se mette in discussione il profitto: si veda la lunga lotta tra minatori e compagnia mineraria, lo sciopero, la mensa per i minatori in sciopero ridotti a dover chiedere la carità, i discorsi sul sindacato.
E si vedano tutte le pagine e le situazioni dedicate alla legge, la sua definizione e il suo concetto, i suoi limiti (anche in questo caso il profitto privato impone limiti), sceriffi e vicesceriffi, pistoleri a pagamento, etica morale e senso di colpa.
È questo soprattutto, credo, che innalza il romanzo oltre i confini del genere: quel riuscire a fissare sulla carta il consolidarsi di una nazione che sente la necessità di regole, nazione destinata a dominare il mondo, nel bene e nel male.
Ho particolarmente apprezzato tante brevi descrizioni di cieli, vegetazione, abiti, attività umane, riflessi, scintillii, le sottili lame di sole che filtravano oblique dalla porta a vento, polvere, sudore…
Oakley Hall mette in scena una messe di personaggi, difficile ricordarli tutti. Per tanti è bravo a caratterizzarli, a penetrare la loro personalità, con un tocco che mi ha ricordato Dostoevskij.
E poi succede che nel lungo finale – decine di pagine – Hall riesca perfino ad aggiungere qualità letteraria alla sua creatura, e se sembra che tra Tom Morgan e Clay Blaisedell e John Gannon ci sia una sorta di passaggio di testimone, a innalzarsi nel cielo, dove a questo punto anche il sole si è fermato, e diventare protagonista tra i protagonisti, è proprio Warlock, la piccola città.
E, a questo punto, non resta che ricordare il capolavoro di D.W.Griffith Nascita di una nazione.
Anthony Quinn è Tom Morgan.
È una battaglia che voialtri pazzi irriducibili, scimuniti e ignoranti che non siete altro, avete combattuto un milione di volte senza mai vincerla, mentre io ho perso questa gamba per farvi entrare nella zucca il fatto che i tempi cambiano. E cambieranno, perché stanno già cambiando. Se li lascerete cambiare come devono be’, il cambiamento sarà indolore. Ma se vi opporrete come fate ogni volta, il cambiamento sarà spietato e vi ridurrà in polvere come la macina di un mulino.
I maschietti denominati ‘boomers’ sono cresciuti a pane e western. Per nutrirsi del secondo andavano al cinema. Più che leggerne su un libro. Caso mai un fumetto (io, però, Tex l’ho sempre detestato, neppure troppo cordialmente – e per far pace con la Bonelli ho dovuto aspettare il Dampyr).
Personalmente – e con questo intendo che vale così per me, non che ‘secondo me’ lo è in generale - credo che una buona parte del fascino derivi dai vestiti: i cow boy vestivano d’un cool che nessun altro: niente divise, bei colori, begli oggetti, bandana, stivali, cinturoni, gilet sbottonati.
E poi, nati ribelli. Sprizzavano rock&roll da ogni poro.
Per parteggiare per i nativi, ho dovuto aspettare qualche anno, li capivo meno.
Dolores Michaels è Jessie Marlow.
In copertina
1880, in un non meglio precisato luogo del sudovest degli States, terra di confine. West.
Il solito paese piccolino che si apre ai lati della Main creando la più classica delle scacchiere, case di legno che prendono fuoco solo a guardarle, polvere sollevata dal vento ma anche da piedi e zoccoli, il saloon con la tradizionale porta a vento dove il whiskey disseta più dell’acqua, commercianti che difendono il loro piccolo impero anche se è soprattutto un feudo, cinturoni fondine Colt Winchester. E se la gente gira armata, chiaro che prima o poi qualcuno sparerà.
Ci sono prostitute, gioco d’azzardo, due pianoforti ma un solo pianista. Miniere, ergo minatori, ergo incidenti di miniera. Si estrae argento.
I cittadini “onesti” (= quelli con più soldi) mettono insieme un comitato: ci sono i soliti cowboy sbruffoni che fanno i bulli e i padroni e terrorizzano gli “onesti” con le loro scorribande. La legge del più forte.
È il solito west regno di sopraffazione e violenza, dove la vita umana vale meno di una pallottola o di uno shottino.
I quattro protagonisti del film omonimo uscito già l’anno dopo il romanzo, 1959, diretto da Edward Dmytryk.
Ma Oakley Hall rimescola le carte, rende il gioco più complicato e meno schematico: sulla scacchiera di questa cittadina - Warlock = stregone – chi è bianco e chi nero, chi buono e chi cattivo, chi giusto e chi sbagliato? Dov’è che inizia il bene e finisce il male se per mantenere ordine e “legge” gli “onesti” devono ingaggiare un uomo con le pistole dal calcio dorato disposto a muoversi dove la legge non arriva?
D’altra parte quest’opera è un romanzo, e il compito della letteratura romanzesca è la ricerca della verità, non dei fatti.
I nativi sono apache, ma rimangono sullo sfondo, quello che viene detto è che le giacche blu li inseguono e sterminano, loro si difendono razziando. Ma nessuno di loro diventa personaggio. Più facile incontrare tra queste pagine un bianco ladro di mandrie.
Curioso notare come col passaparola, senza bisogno di tam tam, le notizie a Warlock e dintorni viaggiavano più veloci delle news e di internet.
Henry Fonda è Claid Blaisedell e Richard Widmark è John Gannon.
Uscito nel 1958, ancora in epoca di liste nere volute dal senatore McCarthy, Warlock sconfessa mito e leggenda, paperback di massa televisione e cinema: i cowboy erano dei puzzolenti zozzoni bulli violenti prevaricatori della peggior specie, quella con la legge del branco tatuata sull’ombelico. Il lavoro altrui vale poco e la legge non lo protegge se mette in discussione il profitto: si veda la lunga lotta tra minatori e compagnia mineraria, lo sciopero, la mensa per i minatori in sciopero ridotti a dover chiedere la carità, i discorsi sul sindacato.
E si vedano tutte le pagine e le situazioni dedicate alla legge, la sua definizione e il suo concetto, i suoi limiti (anche in questo caso il profitto privato impone limiti), sceriffi e vicesceriffi, pistoleri a pagamento, etica morale e senso di colpa.
È questo soprattutto, credo, che innalza il romanzo oltre i confini del genere: quel riuscire a fissare sulla carta il consolidarsi di una nazione che sente la necessità di regole, nazione destinata a dominare il mondo, nel bene e nel male.
Ho particolarmente apprezzato tante brevi descrizioni di cieli, vegetazione, abiti, attività umane, riflessi, scintillii, le sottili lame di sole che filtravano oblique dalla porta a vento, polvere, sudore…
Oakley Hall mette in scena una messe di personaggi, difficile ricordarli tutti. Per tanti è bravo a caratterizzarli, a penetrare la loro personalità, con un tocco che mi ha ricordato Dostoevskij.
E poi succede che nel lungo finale – decine di pagine – Hall riesca perfino ad aggiungere qualità letteraria alla sua creatura, e se sembra che tra Tom Morgan e Clay Blaisedell e John Gannon ci sia una sorta di passaggio di testimone, a innalzarsi nel cielo, dove a questo punto anche il sole si è fermato, e diventare protagonista tra i protagonisti, è proprio Warlock, la piccola città.
E, a questo punto, non resta che ricordare il capolavoro di D.W.Griffith Nascita di una nazione.
Anthony Quinn è Tom Morgan.
È una battaglia che voialtri pazzi irriducibili, scimuniti e ignoranti che non siete altro, avete combattuto un milione di volte senza mai vincerla, mentre io ho perso questa gamba per farvi entrare nella zucca il fatto che i tempi cambiano. E cambieranno, perché stanno già cambiando. Se li lascerete cambiare come devono be’, il cambiamento sarà indolore. Ma se vi opporrete come fate ogni volta, il cambiamento sarà spietato e vi ridurrà in polvere come la macina di un mulino.
I maschietti denominati ‘boomers’ sono cresciuti a pane e western. Per nutrirsi del secondo andavano al cinema. Più che leggerne su un libro. Caso mai un fumetto (io, però, Tex l’ho sempre detestato, neppure troppo cordialmente – e per far pace con la Bonelli ho dovuto aspettare il Dampyr).
Personalmente – e con questo intendo che vale così per me, non che ‘secondo me’ lo è in generale - credo che una buona parte del fascino derivi dai vestiti: i cow boy vestivano d’un cool che nessun altro: niente divise, bei colori, begli oggetti, bandana, stivali, cinturoni, gilet sbottonati.
E poi, nati ribelli. Sprizzavano rock&roll da ogni poro.
Per parteggiare per i nativi, ho dovuto aspettare qualche anno, li capivo meno.
Dolores Michaels è Jessie Marlow.
December 2, 2021
Warlock no es solo una novela del oeste y la película en ella basada no le hace justicia (“El hombre de las pistolas de oro” se tituló por aquí). Warlock es una novela épica y mítica donde los dioses y los demonios creados por el populacho devienen en demasiado humanos, como todos los dioses y demonios, por otra parte. Los buenos no lo son, o no lo son tanto o no lo han sido siempre, y los malos, pues tienen sus cosas, sus formas de hacer, de pensar, con lealtades que están por encima de otras consideraciones, aunque también los hay hijos de puta, dignos seguidores de una larga saga de hijos de puta.
Si en otro sitio dije que Germinal era Las uvas de la ira. francesa, Warlock. puede ser en algunos aspectos el Germinal del oeste americano: hay mineros, sindicalistas -trepas e idealistas-,…
Si en otro sitio dije que Germinal era Las uvas de la ira. francesa, Warlock. puede ser en algunos aspectos el Germinal del oeste americano: hay mineros, sindicalistas -trepas e idealistas-,…
"Es una triste verdad que la lucha por la causa de las masas siempre la encabezaban hombres ambiciosos, hambrientos de poder, astutamente egoístas, y no los humanistas ni los idealistas; y mejor que así fuera."…está el patrón sin entrañas, hay problemas laborales, huelgas y sí, por supuesto, también hay pistoleros, sheriffs, jugadores de cartas, vaqueros, cuatreros, diligencias, saloones, la puta, la santa, poca ley y menos justicia. Indios no, esos ya eran casi pasado en esta historia, aunque sus fantasmas todavía estén muy presentes. Pero lo que no es del pasado son los temas que en este libro se tratan.
"La paz surge de la guerra, no de la razón... así había sido siempre, y las revoluciones las hacen los hombres que conquistaban, o morían, y no ideas descoloridas en cerebros grises."El autor parte de una sociedad en ciernes, donde confluyen multitud de personajes con estados de evolución social muy distintos y con concepciones muy dispares de la justicia y del orden. Una novela coral en la que los personajes principales, retratados maravillosamente en sus miedos, debilidades, inseguridades, aspiraciones, pecados y problemas morales y de identidad, se encuentran envueltos en una sociedad que los derrumba con la misma rapidez que los encumbra, como una gran marea atizada por vientos (rumores) que nadie sabe de donde parten (interesante como el autor va intercalando en el relato del narrador las consideraciones que uno de los comerciantes del pueblo recoge en forma de diario).
"Los hombres son como el maíz. El sol los quema, la lluvia los empapa, el invierno los congela y la Caballería los pisotea, pero a pesar de todo continúan creciendo. Y nada de eso importa mientras haya whisky."Todo eso es Warlock, una novela que posee una intensidad que te engancha desde el comienzo y no te suelta hasta el desenlace final. Una gozada de libro que gustará hasta a los más escépticos.
April 16, 2013
The venerable Thomas Pynchon wrote a laudatory back-cover blurb for Warlock, a book that he indirectly directed me to via his introduction to Richard Fariña's Been Down So Long it Looks Like Up to Me, wherein he details its prominent role in the pair's Cornell days and how their own whole sick crew adopted the vernacular of the beleaguered characters making their ways through this novel. I'm not even going to pretend like I have any business treading terrain already traversed and thoroughly owned by T. Ruggs but I was so blown away by this tome that I can't pass up an opportunity to add my surprised (and, at the time of this review's final revision process, somewhere in the hazy middle ground between wine-soaked and week-day hungover) admiration to the mix.
The Western is a genre that I find as dry and dusty as the landscape its tales so often play out against. I don't much care for the setting -- both in the geographic sense and the era itself -- nor do I have any pressing need to watch gun-battle climax after gun-battle climax (the heavy-handedness of such symbolism not even withstanding). While there are a few notable exceptions (I did love High Noon, which I only watched for the sake of a grade, as well as the veritable classic that is Back to the Future III), they are but a scant few oases in the vast wasteland of a genre that has offered little to hold my interest.
So even with Pynchon's literary ardor in mind, my interest in this book took a nosedive when I realized that it was a Western. Visions of whiskey-soaked tempers, petulant saloon girls and gun-totin' outlaws passed across my judgmental regard with the enthusiastic reception of a tumbleweed rolling along an abandoned mining town's long-forgotten roads.
Thankfully, 2013 is turning out to be the year of misguided misgivings, as various volumes have shattered my lukewarm (if that) expectations; Warlock proved to be no exception. It turned so many stale conventions on their heads that I had no choice but to take notice of how masterfully it asserted its claim on a bygone and often cliched era. The early-1880's peculiar zeitgeist became an effective vehicle for illustrating how times may have changed but the nature of man knows no chronological boundaries.
Pretty early in the book (like, the second page) comes a roll call of sorts introducing the cowboy outlaws comprising the San Pablo gang who are regarded, to varying degrees, as a united threat to the delicately balanced society of Warlock, a town that's a sort of reimagined Tombstone. But close on its heels (like, the next sentence) is the admission that "[t]here is no unanimity of opinion even now amongst those of us who believe them at least to be a regrettable element," allowing that only one of nearly a dozen named men is truly a menace to humanity and the rest are at the mercy of temperament, opinion and sobriety (or the lack thereof). The duality of the human animal is the most dominant force of this novel: There is no such thing as a "good" or "bad" man, just circumstances that bring out one side more than the other. Nary a character escapes a full examination of his or her integrity's strength, either through the (admittedly biased) eyes of others or by betraying the full range of their personalities in reaction to a host of dire situations, and it allows for Warlock to become populated by a hot-blooded, fully realized cast, each of whom has a specific role to serve in a unique capacity.
Because this book is also about perception and loyalty and how easily those two seemingly cut-and-dry ideals can be skewed according to circumstance and motivation, the reader is called to question even the most well-meaning of characters who let themselves fall victim to the simple human failing of being swayed by either public opinion or the limited view of a much bigger picture. One of the town's shopkeepers, for example, keeps a journal that allows for the novel's lone first-person perspective and, despite his determination to be as objective as possible, finds himself regarding other characters' well-intentioned actions with an increasing, though reluctant, distaste because he simply doesn't know the full story: The reader knows him to be a rational man and is forced to reconcile his mistakenly waning respect for admirable characters when the shopkeeper has proven himself to be an otherwise reasonable voice. It is no fault of his own, as he is operating with insight to only a small portion of a much more complicated story, but it forces the reader to consider just how difficult it is to remain untainted by faulty information and the powerful lure of partiality.
The result of all these dueling forces, both internal and external, is that heroes of this book aren't regarded by the lowly populous as heroes for very long, as the very human compulsion to aggrandize an extraordinary man to superhuman proportions is only rivaled in its desperate intensity by the cynical satisfaction of witnessing a revered figure plummet just as swiftly to reviled depths. Not that a modern-day audience can draw any contemporary parallels to such flagrant displays of schadenfreude, eh?
The Western is a genre that I find as dry and dusty as the landscape its tales so often play out against. I don't much care for the setting -- both in the geographic sense and the era itself -- nor do I have any pressing need to watch gun-battle climax after gun-battle climax (the heavy-handedness of such symbolism not even withstanding). While there are a few notable exceptions (I did love High Noon, which I only watched for the sake of a grade, as well as the veritable classic that is Back to the Future III), they are but a scant few oases in the vast wasteland of a genre that has offered little to hold my interest.
So even with Pynchon's literary ardor in mind, my interest in this book took a nosedive when I realized that it was a Western. Visions of whiskey-soaked tempers, petulant saloon girls and gun-totin' outlaws passed across my judgmental regard with the enthusiastic reception of a tumbleweed rolling along an abandoned mining town's long-forgotten roads.
Thankfully, 2013 is turning out to be the year of misguided misgivings, as various volumes have shattered my lukewarm (if that) expectations; Warlock proved to be no exception. It turned so many stale conventions on their heads that I had no choice but to take notice of how masterfully it asserted its claim on a bygone and often cliched era. The early-1880's peculiar zeitgeist became an effective vehicle for illustrating how times may have changed but the nature of man knows no chronological boundaries.
Pretty early in the book (like, the second page) comes a roll call of sorts introducing the cowboy outlaws comprising the San Pablo gang who are regarded, to varying degrees, as a united threat to the delicately balanced society of Warlock, a town that's a sort of reimagined Tombstone. But close on its heels (like, the next sentence) is the admission that "[t]here is no unanimity of opinion even now amongst those of us who believe them at least to be a regrettable element," allowing that only one of nearly a dozen named men is truly a menace to humanity and the rest are at the mercy of temperament, opinion and sobriety (or the lack thereof). The duality of the human animal is the most dominant force of this novel: There is no such thing as a "good" or "bad" man, just circumstances that bring out one side more than the other. Nary a character escapes a full examination of his or her integrity's strength, either through the (admittedly biased) eyes of others or by betraying the full range of their personalities in reaction to a host of dire situations, and it allows for Warlock to become populated by a hot-blooded, fully realized cast, each of whom has a specific role to serve in a unique capacity.
Because this book is also about perception and loyalty and how easily those two seemingly cut-and-dry ideals can be skewed according to circumstance and motivation, the reader is called to question even the most well-meaning of characters who let themselves fall victim to the simple human failing of being swayed by either public opinion or the limited view of a much bigger picture. One of the town's shopkeepers, for example, keeps a journal that allows for the novel's lone first-person perspective and, despite his determination to be as objective as possible, finds himself regarding other characters' well-intentioned actions with an increasing, though reluctant, distaste because he simply doesn't know the full story: The reader knows him to be a rational man and is forced to reconcile his mistakenly waning respect for admirable characters when the shopkeeper has proven himself to be an otherwise reasonable voice. It is no fault of his own, as he is operating with insight to only a small portion of a much more complicated story, but it forces the reader to consider just how difficult it is to remain untainted by faulty information and the powerful lure of partiality.
The result of all these dueling forces, both internal and external, is that heroes of this book aren't regarded by the lowly populous as heroes for very long, as the very human compulsion to aggrandize an extraordinary man to superhuman proportions is only rivaled in its desperate intensity by the cynical satisfaction of witnessing a revered figure plummet just as swiftly to reviled depths. Not that a modern-day audience can draw any contemporary parallels to such flagrant displays of schadenfreude, eh?
May 19, 2019
Great character-driven drama with perfect use of wild west language creates a literary western that takes the time to break apart the grand mythology of the wild west. We're left with a place of unclear laws and people struggling to survive and cheat each other and find meaningful paths through a mostly desolate life.
My favorite scene had nothing to do with the central gunslinger dramas. One example: a law enforcement character gets invited to dinner by the mysterious new woman who moves to town, and the world of the town really comes to life. We see that these sharp-shooting wild west dudes have terrible clothes. They don't know how to act at a sit-down dinner. They don't usually eat vegetables. They aren't even sure how to use a knife and fork. They don't know how to talk to women and imagine the women must see some kind of redemption in them. Everyone is a total wreck and trying to piece together a better life from the wasteland.
Anyway I'm making it sound too bleak, but this was great. A little overly serious in places, but the humor mixed in made me laugh and did as much to make philosophical points as anything else. I loved the double move of taking apart the myth of the west while showing in story form how those myths get created.
My favorite scene had nothing to do with the central gunslinger dramas. One example: a law enforcement character gets invited to dinner by the mysterious new woman who moves to town, and the world of the town really comes to life. We see that these sharp-shooting wild west dudes have terrible clothes. They don't know how to act at a sit-down dinner. They don't usually eat vegetables. They aren't even sure how to use a knife and fork. They don't know how to talk to women and imagine the women must see some kind of redemption in them. Everyone is a total wreck and trying to piece together a better life from the wasteland.
Anyway I'm making it sound too bleak, but this was great. A little overly serious in places, but the humor mixed in made me laugh and did as much to make philosophical points as anything else. I loved the double move of taking apart the myth of the west while showing in story form how those myths get created.
November 5, 2025
“Yah-hoo! he yelled. “I will kill anything that moves, so sit still or die, you sons of bitches; or if you move, crawl! I can spit a man through at fifty yards! I have got lightning in both hands, I comb my hair with wildcats and brush my teeth with barbed wire!”[...]
“Who wants to die? he shouted, walking slowly forward. “I am spoiling for a fight! Come on, you sons of bitches – I eat dead cowboys!”
Before I start to talk about themes and characterization and pacing and style of presentation and whatnot, let me be clear about one thing: this is not a dry, academic study of the history of Tombstone and of the shooting at OK Corral, even as the source material is clear and the similarities to real events are intentional. This is a guts and blood page turner, an intensely personal and vivid evocation of an age and of a place, an edge of your seat thriller that may take some time off for introspection, but always returns to the intensity and focus of that classic image of two people facing each other across an empty street, hands hovering above their holsters, ready to die in order to prove a point of honour. The two people may change over the course of the novel, with the right and wrong of their stance in a similar fluid state, but the violent outcome is never in doubt. It is a cynical world view for sure, but the struggle between anarchy and civilization is still an ongoing concern. The way facts is twisted by false witnesses and self-serving interested parties is another concern for the author.
The town of Warlock and the territory in which it is located are fabrications. But any relation of the characters to real persons, living or dead, is not always coincidental, for many are composites of figures who live still on a frontier between history and legend.
Oakley Hall may as well lay claim to be the author of the ultimate Western novel. I know I might have said this before, but luckily for me, I don’t have to choose between ‘Warlock’ and ‘Lonesome Dove’ and ‘Butcher’s Crossing’ : each of these books deals with a different aspect of the legend : the frontier city, the cattle drive and the buffalo hunt.
This is myth building and myth deconstruction taken out of the hands of history teachers and given to believable, fallible fictional characters. The novel is also striving to remove the glamour cast on the subject by Hollywood standards. The Rule of Law is facing the Will to Power on a dusty street in a mining town. Who will blink first? Where do you draw the line between personal freedom and the need to protect the weak from the violent and the venal? Readers familiar with the genre will easily recognize not only the frontier town and the core events of the conflict between ranchers and miners, but also such classics as ‘High Noon’ or ‘My Darling Clementine’, with ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’ as the closest fit to the tone and the sensibility of Oakley Hall.
The taste and smell of Warlock was not merely that of its dust, but the taste of apprehension, the smell of fear and anger like a dangerous animal snarling and stinking in its cage.
The concerned Citizen Committee of the unincorporated mining city of Warlock are fed up with the cowboys from the surrounding area wrecking havoc every weekend. After the deputy sheriff is run out of town at gunpoint and the barber is killed for a trivial mistake by the gang of Abe McQuown, they decide to hire their own famous gunman to put the fear of death into the band of cattle rustlers and outlaws. Enters Clay Blaisedell, the white-hated, tall-in-the-saddle heroic fast-gun, followed soon after by Tom Morgan, a cold-blooded gambler who opens a casino in town. A certain Kate Dollar, a former prostitute with a blood-vengeance against Blaisedell soon follows in their footsteps. Local drunkard and self-appointed judge Holloway warns against this vigilante type of justice, about fighting crime with more violence and taking the law into their own hands.
“What you are working toward in your pride is some day meeting a man that has got to kill you or you him, only he is righter and you know it. Because you gone wrong. And what are you going to do then?” His voice sank until it was almost inaudible. “That is the box, Clay Blaisedell. What are you going to do then?”
Abe McQuown is a proud man, who considers the town of Warlock his personal playground, and any infringement on his right to bear arms an imposition on the holy principle of personal liberty. A confrontation with the newly appointed Marshall is imminent and an attack on the stagecoach near Warlock precipitates events.
I will not give a detailed account of the proceedings. Most readers will be familiar with the story from countless movies and from books written about Tombstone and Wyatt Earp. Oakley Hall’s perspective is more interesting because the way he points out the flaws in the arguments used by both sides of the confrontation: there are no clear-cut heroes or villains here, just people trying to deal with a terrible situation, driven equally by misguided pride and peer pressure as by a belief in fairness and justice.
“All men are the same in the end,” the judge said. “Afraider to be thought a coward than afraid to die.”
The novel is also about many other people beside Blaisedell and McQuown: truly, I cannot claim there is a lead character in this panoramic, wide angle landscape, although my vote will go to John ‘Bud’ Gannon if I had my back to a wall and had to choose. Each of the actors in the drama is given the same attention to nuance and motivation as the two alphas competing over the same territory.
For example, Tom Morgan is neither the loyal sidekick nor the cynical, selfish gambler who would do anything to win. He has his own inner demons and his own moral compass, a twisted one maybe, but one that he is ready to put his life on the line to defend.
John Gannon is a man who has seen where the path of violence leads and has decided to abandon his former friends at the rustlers’ camp in order to become an agent of the law. Bud will be mistrusted and abused by both the townsmen and the cowboys as his loyalties, his courage and his righteousness are daily challenged.
Gannon said nothing. It seemed to him that hate was a disease, and that he did not know a man who didn’t have it, turned inward or outward.
Even the women in the novel are portrayed with the same revisionist lens: Miss Jessie, the rather plain woman who is known as the Angel of Warlock and falls in love with the Hero while taking care of wounded miners is shown as fallible and neurotic, her good intentions eventually leading to more drama. Kate Dollar, the firebrand easy woman without a heart of gold, appears driven purely by hatred yet is capable of more tender emotions and of reasonable thinking.
Perhaps the best idea of the novelist dealing with an action oriented story and a large cast of characters is to have a couple of these characters act as chroniclers, as the voice of conscience and as the analytical mind that is needed to put things in perspective. Henry Holmes Goodpasture, a local shopkeeper, and doctor Wagner, an introspective, melancholic idealist, fill in this role of editorial commentary, with the drunk judge Holloway filling in from time to time with a rant about law and justice.
We do not break so simply as some think into the two camps of townsmen and Cowboys. We break into the camps of those wildly inclined, and those soberly, those irresponsible and those responsible, those peace-loving and those outlaw and riotous by nature; further, into the camps of respect, and of fear – I mean for oneself, and for all decent things besides.
These are not impartial observers, but actors in the unfolding drama, their moments of introspection offering the reader a welcome breathing space from the intensity of the violence and a chance to look at events from multiple perspectives.
It is impossible to watch these things happening and feel nothing. Each of us is involved to some degree, inwardly and outwardly. Nerves are scraped raw by courses of events, passions are aroused and rearoused in partisanship that, even in myself, transcend rationality.
[Goodpasture]
He had deluded himself with his ideals of humanity and liberality, but peace came after war, not out of reason.
[Wagner]
Students of violent history can probably guess the outcome: Warlock / Tombstone became a ghost town, and violence always led to more violence, good people and good intentions broken down to dust. The need to continue the good fight, the need for heroes and dreamers is still ardent in a modern world that insists on repeating the mistakes of the past, with the duel between law and anarchy played out today on a global scale.
Here astride the dull and rusty razor’s edge between midnight and morning, I am sick to the bottom of my heart. Where is Buck Slavin’s bright future of faith, hope, and commerce? What is it even worth, after all? For if men have no worth, there is none anywhere. I feel very old and I have seen too many things in my years, which are not so many; no, not even in my years, but in a few months – in this day.
“Who wants to die? he shouted, walking slowly forward. “I am spoiling for a fight! Come on, you sons of bitches – I eat dead cowboys!”
Before I start to talk about themes and characterization and pacing and style of presentation and whatnot, let me be clear about one thing: this is not a dry, academic study of the history of Tombstone and of the shooting at OK Corral, even as the source material is clear and the similarities to real events are intentional. This is a guts and blood page turner, an intensely personal and vivid evocation of an age and of a place, an edge of your seat thriller that may take some time off for introspection, but always returns to the intensity and focus of that classic image of two people facing each other across an empty street, hands hovering above their holsters, ready to die in order to prove a point of honour. The two people may change over the course of the novel, with the right and wrong of their stance in a similar fluid state, but the violent outcome is never in doubt. It is a cynical world view for sure, but the struggle between anarchy and civilization is still an ongoing concern. The way facts is twisted by false witnesses and self-serving interested parties is another concern for the author.
The town of Warlock and the territory in which it is located are fabrications. But any relation of the characters to real persons, living or dead, is not always coincidental, for many are composites of figures who live still on a frontier between history and legend.
Oakley Hall may as well lay claim to be the author of the ultimate Western novel. I know I might have said this before, but luckily for me, I don’t have to choose between ‘Warlock’ and ‘Lonesome Dove’ and ‘Butcher’s Crossing’ : each of these books deals with a different aspect of the legend : the frontier city, the cattle drive and the buffalo hunt.
This is myth building and myth deconstruction taken out of the hands of history teachers and given to believable, fallible fictional characters. The novel is also striving to remove the glamour cast on the subject by Hollywood standards. The Rule of Law is facing the Will to Power on a dusty street in a mining town. Who will blink first? Where do you draw the line between personal freedom and the need to protect the weak from the violent and the venal? Readers familiar with the genre will easily recognize not only the frontier town and the core events of the conflict between ranchers and miners, but also such classics as ‘High Noon’ or ‘My Darling Clementine’, with ‘The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance’ as the closest fit to the tone and the sensibility of Oakley Hall.
The taste and smell of Warlock was not merely that of its dust, but the taste of apprehension, the smell of fear and anger like a dangerous animal snarling and stinking in its cage.
The concerned Citizen Committee of the unincorporated mining city of Warlock are fed up with the cowboys from the surrounding area wrecking havoc every weekend. After the deputy sheriff is run out of town at gunpoint and the barber is killed for a trivial mistake by the gang of Abe McQuown, they decide to hire their own famous gunman to put the fear of death into the band of cattle rustlers and outlaws. Enters Clay Blaisedell, the white-hated, tall-in-the-saddle heroic fast-gun, followed soon after by Tom Morgan, a cold-blooded gambler who opens a casino in town. A certain Kate Dollar, a former prostitute with a blood-vengeance against Blaisedell soon follows in their footsteps. Local drunkard and self-appointed judge Holloway warns against this vigilante type of justice, about fighting crime with more violence and taking the law into their own hands.
“What you are working toward in your pride is some day meeting a man that has got to kill you or you him, only he is righter and you know it. Because you gone wrong. And what are you going to do then?” His voice sank until it was almost inaudible. “That is the box, Clay Blaisedell. What are you going to do then?”
Abe McQuown is a proud man, who considers the town of Warlock his personal playground, and any infringement on his right to bear arms an imposition on the holy principle of personal liberty. A confrontation with the newly appointed Marshall is imminent and an attack on the stagecoach near Warlock precipitates events.
I will not give a detailed account of the proceedings. Most readers will be familiar with the story from countless movies and from books written about Tombstone and Wyatt Earp. Oakley Hall’s perspective is more interesting because the way he points out the flaws in the arguments used by both sides of the confrontation: there are no clear-cut heroes or villains here, just people trying to deal with a terrible situation, driven equally by misguided pride and peer pressure as by a belief in fairness and justice.
“All men are the same in the end,” the judge said. “Afraider to be thought a coward than afraid to die.”
The novel is also about many other people beside Blaisedell and McQuown: truly, I cannot claim there is a lead character in this panoramic, wide angle landscape, although my vote will go to John ‘Bud’ Gannon if I had my back to a wall and had to choose. Each of the actors in the drama is given the same attention to nuance and motivation as the two alphas competing over the same territory.
For example, Tom Morgan is neither the loyal sidekick nor the cynical, selfish gambler who would do anything to win. He has his own inner demons and his own moral compass, a twisted one maybe, but one that he is ready to put his life on the line to defend.
John Gannon is a man who has seen where the path of violence leads and has decided to abandon his former friends at the rustlers’ camp in order to become an agent of the law. Bud will be mistrusted and abused by both the townsmen and the cowboys as his loyalties, his courage and his righteousness are daily challenged.
Gannon said nothing. It seemed to him that hate was a disease, and that he did not know a man who didn’t have it, turned inward or outward.
Even the women in the novel are portrayed with the same revisionist lens: Miss Jessie, the rather plain woman who is known as the Angel of Warlock and falls in love with the Hero while taking care of wounded miners is shown as fallible and neurotic, her good intentions eventually leading to more drama. Kate Dollar, the firebrand easy woman without a heart of gold, appears driven purely by hatred yet is capable of more tender emotions and of reasonable thinking.
Perhaps the best idea of the novelist dealing with an action oriented story and a large cast of characters is to have a couple of these characters act as chroniclers, as the voice of conscience and as the analytical mind that is needed to put things in perspective. Henry Holmes Goodpasture, a local shopkeeper, and doctor Wagner, an introspective, melancholic idealist, fill in this role of editorial commentary, with the drunk judge Holloway filling in from time to time with a rant about law and justice.
We do not break so simply as some think into the two camps of townsmen and Cowboys. We break into the camps of those wildly inclined, and those soberly, those irresponsible and those responsible, those peace-loving and those outlaw and riotous by nature; further, into the camps of respect, and of fear – I mean for oneself, and for all decent things besides.
These are not impartial observers, but actors in the unfolding drama, their moments of introspection offering the reader a welcome breathing space from the intensity of the violence and a chance to look at events from multiple perspectives.
It is impossible to watch these things happening and feel nothing. Each of us is involved to some degree, inwardly and outwardly. Nerves are scraped raw by courses of events, passions are aroused and rearoused in partisanship that, even in myself, transcend rationality.
[Goodpasture]
He had deluded himself with his ideals of humanity and liberality, but peace came after war, not out of reason.
[Wagner]
Students of violent history can probably guess the outcome: Warlock / Tombstone became a ghost town, and violence always led to more violence, good people and good intentions broken down to dust. The need to continue the good fight, the need for heroes and dreamers is still ardent in a modern world that insists on repeating the mistakes of the past, with the duel between law and anarchy played out today on a global scale.
Here astride the dull and rusty razor’s edge between midnight and morning, I am sick to the bottom of my heart. Where is Buck Slavin’s bright future of faith, hope, and commerce? What is it even worth, after all? For if men have no worth, there is none anywhere. I feel very old and I have seen too many things in my years, which are not so many; no, not even in my years, but in a few months – in this day.
December 24, 2017
YEE-HAW, IT'S A LITERARY WESTERN
Warlock was as fine a book as any to read on vacation in the city in which I grew up. Within this daunting tome are the tensions between good and evil, right and wrong, the law and the lawless. It was appropriate to return to this subject matter in the place in which I first came to terms with my own understanding of justice, right, and wrong.
The other reason it is appropriate is that this book felt a lot like school, both the good and the bad.
The Good
Back in high school I remember having to slog through books that were required reading. You know them, you’ve probably read them, or at least had to visit a summary website to get you through the test. Books like To Kill a Mockingbird that set my brain on a search for more great works of literature, or Lord of the Flies which I didn’t love, but appreciated the craft and message. These books challenged me, and I was always rewarded with knowledge about literature, how to spot a well crafted novel, or just to bask in the radiant literary light of a beautifully wrought story.
Warlock, then, follows in the vein of those books: it was a challenge to read, but it was also rewarding and extremely well-written. In fact, it is my understanding that The New York Review Books (NYRB) Classics imprint aims to provide these sorts of experiences to an all-ages market: the joy of a really good book. Warlock is a character study of Bud Gannon, Clay Blaisdell, The Black Rattlesnake of Warlock, and many of the other denizens of the eponymous town in the wild west. It is a snapshot of a town in an unruly time that isn’t too far removed from our own history. More than any of that, Warlock is a meditation on justice, pride, duty, vengeance, and the price of establishing order.
In Warlock, men run wild, drinking whiskey, taking down those who cross them, causing mayhem, and sowing carefully crafted plans to suit their own needs. Into this town comes Clay Blaisdell, the marshal, to establish order where a group of rowdy cowboys have brought havoc. At the same time, Bud Gannon returns to town with the aim of turning over a new leaf and joining the law in Warlock. It all becomes complicated when Bud’s brother, who runs with the crew of miscreants, comes against Blaisdell for murder.
The Bad
So, the only thing about that exciting sounding premise is that it takes a while to get there. Bear with me as we make another foray into my high school days. While the schoolbooks were good, there were too many good books out there for me to wait for school to serve me up something stellar. But, books were time consuming, and I wasn’t quite the reader I am today. So I made a rule: I would read at least 100 pages of a book before I gave up on it. Though I’ve stretched that rule more in recent times, it has been a good rule of thumb that has led me to some really excellent reads.
As for Warlock, it took closer to 180 pages before I was really interested in what was going on. I went through a lot of confusion during the book’s opening as I tried to wrap my head around the various characters, their names, nicknames, and role within the story. By the time that was all established, there’s a lot of building that goes into place for the rest of the novel. Just like many books I’ve read in school, this stuff can be a real slog to get through, but it is often necessary for what comes after.
I’m just not entirely certain that the opening had to be so rocky. Certainly, Hall’s writing, which netted him a nomination for the Pulitzer Prize in 1958, holds aloft the book, but it could have done with some trimming. The novel is divided into three books, each of which follows a particular arc but contributes to the overall arc of the novel. It really took a while to get into the moral quandaries that slowly build in this novel, and to be impressed by their climaxes as the book went on. Indeed, by the time the second book came around, I was more used to Hall’s writing and better understood his aim.
Also, there happened to be a lot more shootings, drama, violence, and backstabbing. All the good stuff you’d want from this type of book.
The Ugly?
Well, there isn’t much ugly to be had, but I kind of had a thing going with the headings.
So, the book ends up being quite an interesting and extensive look at the characters of Warlock and how the choices they make shape, bend, and break their moral fiber. Men are brought low by their pride, suffer for what is truly right, and are exalted for wrongdoings. Justice isn’t always appropriate in the lawless world of Warlock, but Gannon’s pursuit of it is truly noble and endearing. The characters, after I had them all sorted, were interesting and I enjoyed having read their stories.
But, the book is a large undertaking. It moves slow as cold molasses through some points, and I can imagine that some of you will find it difficult to get into this novel. On the off-chance you do take a stab at this novel, I hope that you too will have an experience that is not unlike the good and the bad of high school reading. Some of it will be tough sledding, but there’ll be something worth taking from the experience.
APPENDIX: A BRIEF NOTE ON THE NYRB CLASSICS SERIES
I picked up a few of the series over the past couple months that I intend to read over the next year or so. I’m sure many of my fellow Goodreaders will be pleased to hear that Stoner by John Williams will be my next NYRB target. I enjoy the concept of the series, and that it has reprinted classics which may have gone out of print or highlights books that might have otherwise been left to perish in obscurity. Though I liked Warlock, I’m hoping that the next few books from the series will really excite me and bring the type of joy I experienced with books like To Kill a Mockingbird all those years ago. If not, there’s nothing wrong with reading a few classics!
Warlock was as fine a book as any to read on vacation in the city in which I grew up. Within this daunting tome are the tensions between good and evil, right and wrong, the law and the lawless. It was appropriate to return to this subject matter in the place in which I first came to terms with my own understanding of justice, right, and wrong.
The other reason it is appropriate is that this book felt a lot like school, both the good and the bad.
The Good
Back in high school I remember having to slog through books that were required reading. You know them, you’ve probably read them, or at least had to visit a summary website to get you through the test. Books like To Kill a Mockingbird that set my brain on a search for more great works of literature, or Lord of the Flies which I didn’t love, but appreciated the craft and message. These books challenged me, and I was always rewarded with knowledge about literature, how to spot a well crafted novel, or just to bask in the radiant literary light of a beautifully wrought story.
Warlock, then, follows in the vein of those books: it was a challenge to read, but it was also rewarding and extremely well-written. In fact, it is my understanding that The New York Review Books (NYRB) Classics imprint aims to provide these sorts of experiences to an all-ages market: the joy of a really good book. Warlock is a character study of Bud Gannon, Clay Blaisdell, The Black Rattlesnake of Warlock, and many of the other denizens of the eponymous town in the wild west. It is a snapshot of a town in an unruly time that isn’t too far removed from our own history. More than any of that, Warlock is a meditation on justice, pride, duty, vengeance, and the price of establishing order.
In Warlock, men run wild, drinking whiskey, taking down those who cross them, causing mayhem, and sowing carefully crafted plans to suit their own needs. Into this town comes Clay Blaisdell, the marshal, to establish order where a group of rowdy cowboys have brought havoc. At the same time, Bud Gannon returns to town with the aim of turning over a new leaf and joining the law in Warlock. It all becomes complicated when Bud’s brother, who runs with the crew of miscreants, comes against Blaisdell for murder.
The Bad
So, the only thing about that exciting sounding premise is that it takes a while to get there. Bear with me as we make another foray into my high school days. While the schoolbooks were good, there were too many good books out there for me to wait for school to serve me up something stellar. But, books were time consuming, and I wasn’t quite the reader I am today. So I made a rule: I would read at least 100 pages of a book before I gave up on it. Though I’ve stretched that rule more in recent times, it has been a good rule of thumb that has led me to some really excellent reads.
As for Warlock, it took closer to 180 pages before I was really interested in what was going on. I went through a lot of confusion during the book’s opening as I tried to wrap my head around the various characters, their names, nicknames, and role within the story. By the time that was all established, there’s a lot of building that goes into place for the rest of the novel. Just like many books I’ve read in school, this stuff can be a real slog to get through, but it is often necessary for what comes after.
I’m just not entirely certain that the opening had to be so rocky. Certainly, Hall’s writing, which netted him a nomination for the Pulitzer Prize in 1958, holds aloft the book, but it could have done with some trimming. The novel is divided into three books, each of which follows a particular arc but contributes to the overall arc of the novel. It really took a while to get into the moral quandaries that slowly build in this novel, and to be impressed by their climaxes as the book went on. Indeed, by the time the second book came around, I was more used to Hall’s writing and better understood his aim.
Also, there happened to be a lot more shootings, drama, violence, and backstabbing. All the good stuff you’d want from this type of book.
The Ugly?
Well, there isn’t much ugly to be had, but I kind of had a thing going with the headings.
So, the book ends up being quite an interesting and extensive look at the characters of Warlock and how the choices they make shape, bend, and break their moral fiber. Men are brought low by their pride, suffer for what is truly right, and are exalted for wrongdoings. Justice isn’t always appropriate in the lawless world of Warlock, but Gannon’s pursuit of it is truly noble and endearing. The characters, after I had them all sorted, were interesting and I enjoyed having read their stories.
But, the book is a large undertaking. It moves slow as cold molasses through some points, and I can imagine that some of you will find it difficult to get into this novel. On the off-chance you do take a stab at this novel, I hope that you too will have an experience that is not unlike the good and the bad of high school reading. Some of it will be tough sledding, but there’ll be something worth taking from the experience.
APPENDIX: A BRIEF NOTE ON THE NYRB CLASSICS SERIES
I picked up a few of the series over the past couple months that I intend to read over the next year or so. I’m sure many of my fellow Goodreaders will be pleased to hear that Stoner by John Williams will be my next NYRB target. I enjoy the concept of the series, and that it has reprinted classics which may have gone out of print or highlights books that might have otherwise been left to perish in obscurity. Though I liked Warlock, I’m hoping that the next few books from the series will really excite me and bring the type of joy I experienced with books like To Kill a Mockingbird all those years ago. If not, there’s nothing wrong with reading a few classics!
July 5, 2023
Agosto de 1880.
La canícula y la densa neblina desdibujan los contornos de la ciudad fronteriza de Warlock, un lugar huérfano de ley donde el robo, las reyertas y el crimen están a la orden del día. El puesto de ayudante del sheriff pesa como una maldición sobre quien se atreve a ocuparlo; pocos tienen el valor de intervenir en las trifulcas entre mineros borrachos y fulleros, y menos aún de enfrentarse a la banda de cuatreros liderada por Abe McQuown. Pero un nuevo pistolero ha llegado a la ciudad. Armado con sus Colt Frontiers de oro, Clay Blaisedell acepta el reto que le ofrece el Comité de Ciudadanos de ser el nuevo comisario de Warlock. Pero tal vez su temple y sus revólveres no sean suficientes para implantar el orden en una ciudad que devora a un hombre cada mañana.
Nos sumergimos en el año 1880, un lugar sin ley no especificado en el suroeste de los Estados, una zona fronteriza. El Oeste.
Un pueblito minero que se abre a ambos lados de una frontera creando el más clásico de los tableros de ajedrez, casas de madera que se incendian con solo mirarlas, polvo levantado por el viento pero también por pies y pezuñas, un salón con el tradicional columpio puerta donde el whisky apaga más la sed que el agua, comerciantes que defienden sus negocios aunque sea ante todo un feudo, cinturones con balas de Colt y Winchester.
La única ley que xiste es que si la gente va armada, tarde o temprano alguien disparará.
Las razones son lo de menos..
Oakley Hall supo reflejar espléndidamente el espíritu de una nación forjado a ritmo de duelos al sol, rondas de whisky, vínculos de amistad inquebrantable y odio hasta la muerte. Warlock, auténtica pieza de culto.
Hay prostitutas, juegos de azar, dos pianos pero solo un pianista. Minas, mineros, accidentes, oro y plata. Y muchos balazos por doquier..
Esta novela fue preseleccionada en su día para el Pulitzer en 1958. De las novelas western esta destaca como una de las mejores y desde luego entiendo el sentimiento. Lo vives.
La trama que mantendrá tu atención se teje de tal manera que abarca nociones de gobierno, de justicia, de lucha de clases y de cosas mucho menos relevantes.
Polvo y sangre..✍️🎩⚰️
La canícula y la densa neblina desdibujan los contornos de la ciudad fronteriza de Warlock, un lugar huérfano de ley donde el robo, las reyertas y el crimen están a la orden del día. El puesto de ayudante del sheriff pesa como una maldición sobre quien se atreve a ocuparlo; pocos tienen el valor de intervenir en las trifulcas entre mineros borrachos y fulleros, y menos aún de enfrentarse a la banda de cuatreros liderada por Abe McQuown. Pero un nuevo pistolero ha llegado a la ciudad. Armado con sus Colt Frontiers de oro, Clay Blaisedell acepta el reto que le ofrece el Comité de Ciudadanos de ser el nuevo comisario de Warlock. Pero tal vez su temple y sus revólveres no sean suficientes para implantar el orden en una ciudad que devora a un hombre cada mañana.
Nos sumergimos en el año 1880, un lugar sin ley no especificado en el suroeste de los Estados, una zona fronteriza. El Oeste.
Un pueblito minero que se abre a ambos lados de una frontera creando el más clásico de los tableros de ajedrez, casas de madera que se incendian con solo mirarlas, polvo levantado por el viento pero también por pies y pezuñas, un salón con el tradicional columpio puerta donde el whisky apaga más la sed que el agua, comerciantes que defienden sus negocios aunque sea ante todo un feudo, cinturones con balas de Colt y Winchester.
La única ley que xiste es que si la gente va armada, tarde o temprano alguien disparará.
Las razones son lo de menos..
Oakley Hall supo reflejar espléndidamente el espíritu de una nación forjado a ritmo de duelos al sol, rondas de whisky, vínculos de amistad inquebrantable y odio hasta la muerte. Warlock, auténtica pieza de culto.
Hay prostitutas, juegos de azar, dos pianos pero solo un pianista. Minas, mineros, accidentes, oro y plata. Y muchos balazos por doquier..
Esta novela fue preseleccionada en su día para el Pulitzer en 1958. De las novelas western esta destaca como una de las mejores y desde luego entiendo el sentimiento. Lo vives.
La trama que mantendrá tu atención se teje de tal manera que abarca nociones de gobierno, de justicia, de lucha de clases y de cosas mucho menos relevantes.
Polvo y sangre..✍️🎩⚰️
March 22, 2023
Warlock
Magnífica novela sobre el oeste americano durante la década de 1880. Novela que refleja muy bien el antiguo salvaje oeste del que tantas películas hemos visto. Se publicó en 1958 siendo finalista del premio Pulitzer.
Warlock es un pueblo minero que está a merced de un grupo de malhechores que hacen y deshacen a su antojo. Los diferentes Sheriff que han tenido huyen en cuanto ven llegar al grupo de bandidos.
El comité de ciudadanos del pueblo, decide un día intentar acabar con esta situación contratando a un pistolero famoso para imponer el orden. Éste, llegará al pueblo junto a un amigo y todo el pasado de ambos.
Así, tan sencillo, es el argumento de esta novela, como tantas otras.
Pero aquí no vamos a encontrar un simple intercambio de tiros. Una vez que el orden se impone, los habitantes se cuestionan el precio a pagar en vidas por mantener el orden, ¿Es eso justicia? ¿Eso es la ley?
«—Como en esta población no hay ley establecida, tendré que mantener la paz como mejor pueda. Y de manera tan justa como sea posible. Pero hay dos cosas que quiero dejar bien claras ahora mismo y que cumpliré a rajatabla. La primera es ésta —endureció el tono y prosiguió—: Mataré a cualquiera que provoque un enfrentamiento a tiros en un lugar donde haya otros que puedan resultar heridos, a menos que él me mate a mí primero.»
Un pistolero, frío como el hielo, ¿No siente nada al matar? ¿quién es el amigo que le acompaña? En cuanto a los malhechores, ¿puede un bandido arrepentirse y hacer cumplir la ley a sus antiguos camaradas? Muchas preguntas se harán durante la historia, en la que hay cantidad de actos de traición, arrepentimiento, amistad y odio, y sobre todo, la justicia.
También es una novela de reivindicación laboral. En el pueblo hay una mina con un dueño tiránico. Asistiremos a una huelga y protesta de los mineros, escucharemos sus peticiones como un principio de acción sindical en la época.
Una novela del Oeste, como aquellas películas que veíamos en blanco y negro en la tele los que no somos tan jóvenes, pistoleros y bandoleros, duelos en el corral o en la calle principal. Puertas a dos lados para entrar en el Saloon, un piano sonando, gente jugando al póker y la barra llena de bebedores de whisky.
En cuanto se publicó este libro se hizo una película basada en él. La película se tituló en español: "El hombre de las pistolas de oro" con Henry Fonda como el pistolero Clay Blaisedell, Richard Widmarck como Gannon, el ayudante del sheriff, Anthony Quinn como Morgan, amigo del pistolero y Dorothy Malone como Kate, antigua amiga de los dos, como principales actores. Está clasificada con un 7'1 en IMDB lo cual habla bien de ella. Se puede ver en youtube como tantas otras películas del cine clásico.
La he visto justo después de leer el libro y, como suele pasar, pierde bastante en comparación a la novela. Está muy resumida con respecto a la historia original, pero es que es un libro de 700 páginas, difícil de plasmarlo todo en una película de 90 minutos.
Magnífica novela sobre el oeste americano durante la década de 1880. Novela que refleja muy bien el antiguo salvaje oeste del que tantas películas hemos visto. Se publicó en 1958 siendo finalista del premio Pulitzer.
Warlock es un pueblo minero que está a merced de un grupo de malhechores que hacen y deshacen a su antojo. Los diferentes Sheriff que han tenido huyen en cuanto ven llegar al grupo de bandidos.
El comité de ciudadanos del pueblo, decide un día intentar acabar con esta situación contratando a un pistolero famoso para imponer el orden. Éste, llegará al pueblo junto a un amigo y todo el pasado de ambos.
Así, tan sencillo, es el argumento de esta novela, como tantas otras.
Pero aquí no vamos a encontrar un simple intercambio de tiros. Una vez que el orden se impone, los habitantes se cuestionan el precio a pagar en vidas por mantener el orden, ¿Es eso justicia? ¿Eso es la ley?
«—Como en esta población no hay ley establecida, tendré que mantener la paz como mejor pueda. Y de manera tan justa como sea posible. Pero hay dos cosas que quiero dejar bien claras ahora mismo y que cumpliré a rajatabla. La primera es ésta —endureció el tono y prosiguió—: Mataré a cualquiera que provoque un enfrentamiento a tiros en un lugar donde haya otros que puedan resultar heridos, a menos que él me mate a mí primero.»
Un pistolero, frío como el hielo, ¿No siente nada al matar? ¿quién es el amigo que le acompaña? En cuanto a los malhechores, ¿puede un bandido arrepentirse y hacer cumplir la ley a sus antiguos camaradas? Muchas preguntas se harán durante la historia, en la que hay cantidad de actos de traición, arrepentimiento, amistad y odio, y sobre todo, la justicia.
También es una novela de reivindicación laboral. En el pueblo hay una mina con un dueño tiránico. Asistiremos a una huelga y protesta de los mineros, escucharemos sus peticiones como un principio de acción sindical en la época.
Una novela del Oeste, como aquellas películas que veíamos en blanco y negro en la tele los que no somos tan jóvenes, pistoleros y bandoleros, duelos en el corral o en la calle principal. Puertas a dos lados para entrar en el Saloon, un piano sonando, gente jugando al póker y la barra llena de bebedores de whisky.
En cuanto se publicó este libro se hizo una película basada en él. La película se tituló en español: "El hombre de las pistolas de oro" con Henry Fonda como el pistolero Clay Blaisedell, Richard Widmarck como Gannon, el ayudante del sheriff, Anthony Quinn como Morgan, amigo del pistolero y Dorothy Malone como Kate, antigua amiga de los dos, como principales actores. Está clasificada con un 7'1 en IMDB lo cual habla bien de ella. Se puede ver en youtube como tantas otras películas del cine clásico.
La he visto justo después de leer el libro y, como suele pasar, pierde bastante en comparación a la novela. Está muy resumida con respecto a la historia original, pero es que es un libro de 700 páginas, difícil de plasmarlo todo en una película de 90 minutos.
August 6, 2012
Feeling barfy and delirious this past weekend finally gave me the necessary downtime to finish this book—which isn't meant to imply that Warlock is a chore to read, but only that I had developed a sudden distaste for reading itself and preferred to while away my hours watching bad television with my hand down my pants. (By the way, from the mouthbreathing vantage of my sofa, all of you nerds mooning over Bolaño and Pynchon look like Urkel.) Anyway, even though this western novel has a lot of insightful things to say about the precariousness of law and order in civilized society, you can forget all that if you're not into intellectually redeeming qualities—because it's just a good old-fashioned matinee yarn. Warlock (played by Julian Sands in the film adaptation) is actually a dusty, blink-and-you-miss-it mining town in the Old West that hasn't been officially recognized as governmental entity by the Powers That Be, leaving it in a hybrid state of lawlessness and makeshift authority that doesn't seem to be working very well. (Suddenly, while typing the previous sentence, I've lost interest in writing this review—mainly because it's 4:30 AM and I'm hungry—but I want to tell you that you should read it because it's really, really good. Or don't read it. It's your life.)
August 11, 2016
Is not the history of the world no more than a record of violence and death cut in stone?
There's a lot to love in Warlock for fans of American westward expansion, gritty Manifest Destiny narratives with well-drawn morally ambiguous characters. At every turn in the story Hall reminds the reader that frontier life was forever covered in blood and dust, and when humanity works hard to create a hero out of a human, the best that can happen is that person will fail miserably. Hall writes the story showing the worst that comes from hero worship.
Right carries the seeds of Wrong within it ... For what is Right & Wrong in the end, but opinion held to?
This novel was short-listed for the Pulitzer in 1958, and it was a Pynchon review of the book that pointed me to it. His eloquence on why this is an important novel and should be read is much better than mine, so I'll close this review by quoting a portion of his thoughts on the book:
Before the agonized epic of Warlock is over with -- the collective awareness that is Warlock must face its own inescapable Horror: that what is called society, with its law and order, is as frail, as precarious, as flesh and can be snuffed out and assimilated back into the desert as easily as a corpse can. It is the deep sensitivity to abysses that makes Warlock one of our best American novels.
For we are a nation that can, many of us, toss with all aplomb our candy wrapper into the Grand Canyon itself, snap a color shot and drive away; and we need voices like Oakley Hall's to remind us how far that piece of paper, still fluttering brightly behind us, has to fall.
July 5, 2016
. . . heat-hazed, blurred out of focus. That's Warlock. . . . a place where passions in all things run high, and men go armed as they wear hats against the sun, and where a large proportion of the inhabitants is of the ignorant and unwashed class, if not actual renegades from the law elsewhere. It's a place where the dust itself is a character. Where a mountain range looms off a ways, called The Dinosaurs, a constant presence. As if human struggle and the violence that men bear within them ever go extinct.
This is not just some rootin'-tootin' Western. There are twenty or more fully, if subtly, drawn characters. Like the judge:
"Some men drink to warm themselves," he said. "I drink to cool the brain. I drink to get the people out."
Or, like one of the great, complicated female characters, Kate Dollar:
She turned a little to watch him; one side of her face was rosy from the lamp and the other half in shadow, so that it looked like only half a face. "I'm leaving tomorrow," she said.
The storyline, which will keep your attention, weaves in such a way as to take in notions of government, of justice, of class struggle. Johnny Gannon alone will encounter a dozen or more existential moments of choice. Heroes and villains appear, and switch roles:
We are a race of tradition-lovers in a new land, of king-reverers in a Republic, of hero-worshipers in a society of mundane get-and-spend. It is a Country and a Time where any bank clerk or common laborer can become a famous outlaw, where an outlaw can in a very short time be sainted in song and story into a Robin Hood . . .
If you read this -- and you should read this -- I believe that you, like me, will feel an immediacy to the story. For Right and Wrong shouldn't change, should they? And yet, what are Right and Wrong in the end, but opinion held to?
This is not just some rootin'-tootin' Western. There are twenty or more fully, if subtly, drawn characters. Like the judge:
"Some men drink to warm themselves," he said. "I drink to cool the brain. I drink to get the people out."
Or, like one of the great, complicated female characters, Kate Dollar:
She turned a little to watch him; one side of her face was rosy from the lamp and the other half in shadow, so that it looked like only half a face. "I'm leaving tomorrow," she said.
The storyline, which will keep your attention, weaves in such a way as to take in notions of government, of justice, of class struggle. Johnny Gannon alone will encounter a dozen or more existential moments of choice. Heroes and villains appear, and switch roles:
We are a race of tradition-lovers in a new land, of king-reverers in a Republic, of hero-worshipers in a society of mundane get-and-spend. It is a Country and a Time where any bank clerk or common laborer can become a famous outlaw, where an outlaw can in a very short time be sainted in song and story into a Robin Hood . . .
If you read this -- and you should read this -- I believe that you, like me, will feel an immediacy to the story. For Right and Wrong shouldn't change, should they? And yet, what are Right and Wrong in the end, but opinion held to?
June 8, 2011
An existential western, I suppose? A story of humanity forcing some meaning into (or out of) their lives, contending all the while with the madness of crowds, political reputations, and expectations both internal and external. I can't really think of a way to explain it without sounding kind of hokey, but it doesn't come across that way in the book at all.
But anyway, it IS a western, and so you have the outlaws, and the new marshal and his friend the saloon owner, and the concerned townfolk, and a lot of showdowns. Only this book is concerned with the source of Order and Right (Men are wild, not wicked, said Rousseau, who knew not Warlock) and so, as it turns out, some people are more satisfied with the chief outlaw keeping order among his men than with the new marshal imposing the law. Only the marshal isn't actually the Law-he has been hired by the Citizens' Committee of shop-owners. The Law, such as it is in the unincorporated West (Possibly she came, too, because this is the Frontier, which term I understand is a romantic one to those not there residing), rests with a string of deputies, the last of whom is determined to make something honorable of the position. Only he used to ride with the outlaws, so no one in town trusts him. Meanwhile there's also a mining strike (again, who maintains Order, the workers or the company?), a romantic interest for the marshal who is more concerned with his ideal than with the man himself, businessmen seeking a town charter, an insane cavalry general, a drunken judge who occasionally presents the moral foundations of the book, and a woman with a mysterious past involving the marshal and the saloon owner (a strong female character from a western written more than 50 years ago!).
All of this in deceptively simple prose that manages to be ornate without stooping to floridity. Incredible.
Ah, the pure shine of a few moments of heroism, high courage and derring-do! In its light we genuflect before the Hero, we bask in the warmth of his Deeds, we tout him, shout his praises, deify him, and, in short, make of him what no mortal man could ever be. We are a race of tradition-lovers in a new land, of king-reverers in a Republic, of hero-worshipers in a society of mundane get-and-spend. It is a Country and a Time where any bank clerk or common laborer can become a famous outlaw, where an outlaw can in a very short time be sainted in song and story into a Robin Hood, where a Frontier Model Excalibur can be drawn from the block at any gunshop for twenty dollars.
Yet it is only one side of us, and we are cynical and envious too. As one half of our nature seeks to create heroes to worship, the other must ceaselessly attempt to cast them down and discover evidence of feet of clay, in order to label them as mere lucky fellows, or as villains-were-the-facts-but-known, and the eminent and great are ground between the millstones of envy, and reduced again to common size.
But anyway, it IS a western, and so you have the outlaws, and the new marshal and his friend the saloon owner, and the concerned townfolk, and a lot of showdowns. Only this book is concerned with the source of Order and Right (Men are wild, not wicked, said Rousseau, who knew not Warlock) and so, as it turns out, some people are more satisfied with the chief outlaw keeping order among his men than with the new marshal imposing the law. Only the marshal isn't actually the Law-he has been hired by the Citizens' Committee of shop-owners. The Law, such as it is in the unincorporated West (Possibly she came, too, because this is the Frontier, which term I understand is a romantic one to those not there residing), rests with a string of deputies, the last of whom is determined to make something honorable of the position. Only he used to ride with the outlaws, so no one in town trusts him. Meanwhile there's also a mining strike (again, who maintains Order, the workers or the company?), a romantic interest for the marshal who is more concerned with his ideal than with the man himself, businessmen seeking a town charter, an insane cavalry general, a drunken judge who occasionally presents the moral foundations of the book, and a woman with a mysterious past involving the marshal and the saloon owner (a strong female character from a western written more than 50 years ago!).
All of this in deceptively simple prose that manages to be ornate without stooping to floridity. Incredible.
Ah, the pure shine of a few moments of heroism, high courage and derring-do! In its light we genuflect before the Hero, we bask in the warmth of his Deeds, we tout him, shout his praises, deify him, and, in short, make of him what no mortal man could ever be. We are a race of tradition-lovers in a new land, of king-reverers in a Republic, of hero-worshipers in a society of mundane get-and-spend. It is a Country and a Time where any bank clerk or common laborer can become a famous outlaw, where an outlaw can in a very short time be sainted in song and story into a Robin Hood, where a Frontier Model Excalibur can be drawn from the block at any gunshop for twenty dollars.
Yet it is only one side of us, and we are cynical and envious too. As one half of our nature seeks to create heroes to worship, the other must ceaselessly attempt to cast them down and discover evidence of feet of clay, in order to label them as mere lucky fellows, or as villains-were-the-facts-but-known, and the eminent and great are ground between the millstones of envy, and reduced again to common size.
June 12, 2018
Come “Lonesome Dove”, un bel romanzo sulla Nuova Frontiera, sul West insomma e quindi sulle fondamenta degli Stati Uniti. Un libro del ’58, che è, anche questo, già revisionista. Perché guarda al fenomeno storico per quello che fu e non si allinea alla mitizzazione cinematografica con i suoi manicheismi. Gli ingredienti (il pistolero, il duello, il cow boy, il saloon, la prostituta, il whisky, lo sceriffo e via dicendo) ci sono tutti, ma riportati ai loro chiaroscuri autentici e soprattutto alla loro realtà storica. Sottoscrivo in grassetto quando l’autore dice che “il compito della letteratura romanzesca è la ricerca della verità, non dei fatti”. Ed alla verità di quella storia questo romanzo dà un contributo importante.
Il West fu anche quello di una umanità che smetteva di cavalcare e tentava di strutturarsi in società ; che a un certo punto passava dalla predazione all’allevamento, all’agricoltura o come in questo caso allo sfruttamento delle miniere. E quindi dal nomadismo alla stanzialità, dalla vita nelle praterie alla città. Se Lonesome Dove raccontava di un piccolo gruppo di uomini e donne in movimento dal Texas al Montana, qui si racconta di un paese (Warlock appunto) che tenta di organizzarsi in comunità. Al centro c’è il grande tema americano (e non solo ovviamente) del confine mobile e guerreggiato tra libertà individuale e convivenza sociale. Perché non appena gli uomini si fermano più o meno stabilmente dentro a quattro mura che si affacciano su una strada si pone il problema delle regole: di chi le stabilisce e di chi ne garantisce il rispetto. In poche letture si vede così bene la fatica e la sofferenza che costa tentare di garantire sicurezza, pace sociale, giustizia ad un costo tollerabile e accettato di limitazione della libertà individuale. E quanto resistente sia la mente degli uomini e delle donne a faticare per riportare sotto un qualche controllo il calderone che gli ribolle dentro. C’è sempre qualcuno a cui sembra che farlo ribollire liberamente sia l’unico modo per affermare di esistere, per rivendicare la propria identità, il proprio orgoglio, la propria libertà di individui. Gli esiti possono essere imprevedibili. Come a Warlock.
Dunque, non certamente un romanzo solo di genere. Anche per qualità di scrittura (i dialoghi in particolare sono cesellati), scavo psicologico dei protagonisti, capacità di rendere un mondo, con tutte le sue colorazioni ambientali e sociali. Due difettucci marginali a volerli trovare ci sono. Il primo è il numero eccessivo di personaggi che restano solo abbozzati. Molti sembrano figure di cartone messe lì a riempire la scena. Il secondo è un qualche calo della tensione narrativa qui e là. Si riprende subito però e sono difetti che si possono anche accettare, perché la storia è bella, con sfumature di senso e alternative aperte di interpretazione che catturano. In ogni caso il risultato finale è più che buono.
Il West fu anche quello di una umanità che smetteva di cavalcare e tentava di strutturarsi in società ; che a un certo punto passava dalla predazione all’allevamento, all’agricoltura o come in questo caso allo sfruttamento delle miniere. E quindi dal nomadismo alla stanzialità, dalla vita nelle praterie alla città. Se Lonesome Dove raccontava di un piccolo gruppo di uomini e donne in movimento dal Texas al Montana, qui si racconta di un paese (Warlock appunto) che tenta di organizzarsi in comunità. Al centro c’è il grande tema americano (e non solo ovviamente) del confine mobile e guerreggiato tra libertà individuale e convivenza sociale. Perché non appena gli uomini si fermano più o meno stabilmente dentro a quattro mura che si affacciano su una strada si pone il problema delle regole: di chi le stabilisce e di chi ne garantisce il rispetto. In poche letture si vede così bene la fatica e la sofferenza che costa tentare di garantire sicurezza, pace sociale, giustizia ad un costo tollerabile e accettato di limitazione della libertà individuale. E quanto resistente sia la mente degli uomini e delle donne a faticare per riportare sotto un qualche controllo il calderone che gli ribolle dentro. C’è sempre qualcuno a cui sembra che farlo ribollire liberamente sia l’unico modo per affermare di esistere, per rivendicare la propria identità, il proprio orgoglio, la propria libertà di individui. Gli esiti possono essere imprevedibili. Come a Warlock.
Dunque, non certamente un romanzo solo di genere. Anche per qualità di scrittura (i dialoghi in particolare sono cesellati), scavo psicologico dei protagonisti, capacità di rendere un mondo, con tutte le sue colorazioni ambientali e sociali. Due difettucci marginali a volerli trovare ci sono. Il primo è il numero eccessivo di personaggi che restano solo abbozzati. Molti sembrano figure di cartone messe lì a riempire la scena. Il secondo è un qualche calo della tensione narrativa qui e là. Si riprende subito però e sono difetti che si possono anche accettare, perché la storia è bella, con sfumature di senso e alternative aperte di interpretazione che catturano. In ogni caso il risultato finale è più che buono.
November 2, 2024
Uno tiende a pensar, por inercia, desconocimiento o pereza intelectual, que el género western es un género en el que prima la acción, copado de héroes o antihéroes expeditivos de muñeca diestra y gatillo facil y villanos despreciables igualmente hábiles con sus cañones. Sin embargo, el western es un género muy amplio, y un simple vistazo a la filmografía vaquera de John Ford nos revela sus muchas aristas. Nada tiene que ver La diligencia con El hombre que mató a Liberty Valance, lo único que le une es su calidad superlativa y la hondura psicológica de sus personajes. Porque, cuando la gente piensa en western, se va al género de bajo presupuesto que se hacía en el continente europeo, el spaguetti western, que dio un buen puñado de obras inmortales, o el western patrio, bastante menos brillante. En estos western sí prima la acción, los personajes caricaturescos y las situaciones rocambolescas, más de comics, algo que se debe a que estas películas son western por razones coyunturales, porque el western seguía vendiendo en aquella época siempre y cuando fuera barato. Ya lo decía Sergio Leone, si hubiera estado de moda el peplum o el noir hubiera dirigido peplum y noir.
¿Qué quiero decir con esto? Que nadie se espere que Warlock es una épica de tiros y duelos al sol.
Warlock es un proyecto de pueblo minero acosado por los caprichos del cacique local y sus subalternos, una recua de ladrones de ganado y borrachos pendencieros que hacen y deshacen a su voluntad, especialmente cuando llevan una buena curda. Esta situación de inestabilidad no da buena fama al pueblo ni permite que los comercios prosperen. Tampoco ayuda que estos pistoleros calaveras hayan amedrentado al último sheriff hasta obligarlo a huir del lugar. Es por ello que el comité de ciudadanos, representado por los comerciantes y "buena" sociedad de la villa, contrata los servicios de un pistolero afamado para reinstaurar el orden perdido. Así hace aparición Clay Blaisedell, el hombre de las pistolas de oro.
A priori uno pensaría, ingenua y equivocadamente, que vamos presenciar una historia de justicieros en la ciudad. Todo lo contrario. Si bien hay bastantes duelos y tiroteos, Oakley Hall no está interesado en la acción, su historia es una historia moral, sobre el deber y la imagen que proyectamos al mundo, de hombres convertidos en símbolos y siendo destruidos por su leyenda. En ese aspecto, Warlock es una obra crepuscular, no una celebración de los mitos clásicos del western. Blaisedell no es el clásico héroe que acribilla a sus enemigos y se queda a la chica, es un hombre atormentado por el peso de su leyenda y aterrorizado de convertirse en un pequeño tirano a la manera del cacique local. El nuevo comisario no es el único sumido en una crisis existencial.
Están también dos hermanos, el joven bajo el ala del cacique y los suyos, muy gallito y dispuesto a demostrar su valía enfrentándose al comisario; y el mayor, más sereno, experimentado, que ha renegado de la banda a la que pertenecía y se ha nombrado ayudante del comisario. También tenemos a los mineros y sus precarias condiciones de existencia bajo tierra, subsistiendo con una paga mísera que gastan en alcohol y viviendo de la caridad cuando un accidente los mutila en el mejor de los casos. Por suerte para ellos, el médico y la dueña de un hotel reconvertido en enfermería se prestan a cuidar y mejorar de forma desinteresada la vida de estos marginados. Tan insostenible es la situación laboral que la idea del sindicato flota en el aire, con todo lo que ello implica. Tenemos, por supuesto, una historia de amor con el comisario, y una historia de estrecha amistad entre éste último y su compinche Tom Morgan, jugador profesional y pistolero sanguinario.
Con todo este enorme y diverso plantel de personajes la novela promete y mucho, y durante el primer tercio así es. Pero al llegar a la mitad, aproximadamente, la acción comienza a espesarse, la trama se estanca o avanza como un río de melaza. Oakley Hall está mucho más preocupado en las encrucijadas morales de sus personajes que en hacer avanzar la historia, hasta el punto que su ejercicio de introspección psicológica agota por lo sublime, a niveles henryjamesianos de detalle. Uno no esperaría que gentes acostumbradas a desenfundar y disparar revólveres pudieran sumirse en tan complejos y sublimes trances meditativos.
Reconozco que estos excesos que tantas páginas ocupan han sido lo que más me ha impedido disfrutar de la historia. Hubiera preferido más saber cómo evoluciona el drama de los mineros, la fundación del sindicato y sus consecuencias antes que acompañar a Blaisedell y Morgan en su tortuosa y a veces incomprensible relación, o las justificaciones del ayudante del sheriff para sacrificarse por un concepto tan falaz como es la justicia. Lo bueno, y mejor de la novela, es lo bien narrada que está y algunos diálogos que Oakley Hall coloca a sus personajes.
Warlock es una novela que disfrutará más el lector ajeno al género western que aquel que se ha criado con los bolsilibros de Marcial Lafuente Estefanía. La adaptación con Henry Fonda y Anthony Quinn no tengo ni idea de cómo estará, pero muy seguramente hayan expurgado mucho de estos pasajes áridos. Espero, porque de no ser así la película sería un peñazo insoportable.
¿Qué quiero decir con esto? Que nadie se espere que Warlock es una épica de tiros y duelos al sol.
Warlock es un proyecto de pueblo minero acosado por los caprichos del cacique local y sus subalternos, una recua de ladrones de ganado y borrachos pendencieros que hacen y deshacen a su voluntad, especialmente cuando llevan una buena curda. Esta situación de inestabilidad no da buena fama al pueblo ni permite que los comercios prosperen. Tampoco ayuda que estos pistoleros calaveras hayan amedrentado al último sheriff hasta obligarlo a huir del lugar. Es por ello que el comité de ciudadanos, representado por los comerciantes y "buena" sociedad de la villa, contrata los servicios de un pistolero afamado para reinstaurar el orden perdido. Así hace aparición Clay Blaisedell, el hombre de las pistolas de oro.
A priori uno pensaría, ingenua y equivocadamente, que vamos presenciar una historia de justicieros en la ciudad. Todo lo contrario. Si bien hay bastantes duelos y tiroteos, Oakley Hall no está interesado en la acción, su historia es una historia moral, sobre el deber y la imagen que proyectamos al mundo, de hombres convertidos en símbolos y siendo destruidos por su leyenda. En ese aspecto, Warlock es una obra crepuscular, no una celebración de los mitos clásicos del western. Blaisedell no es el clásico héroe que acribilla a sus enemigos y se queda a la chica, es un hombre atormentado por el peso de su leyenda y aterrorizado de convertirse en un pequeño tirano a la manera del cacique local. El nuevo comisario no es el único sumido en una crisis existencial.
Están también dos hermanos, el joven bajo el ala del cacique y los suyos, muy gallito y dispuesto a demostrar su valía enfrentándose al comisario; y el mayor, más sereno, experimentado, que ha renegado de la banda a la que pertenecía y se ha nombrado ayudante del comisario. También tenemos a los mineros y sus precarias condiciones de existencia bajo tierra, subsistiendo con una paga mísera que gastan en alcohol y viviendo de la caridad cuando un accidente los mutila en el mejor de los casos. Por suerte para ellos, el médico y la dueña de un hotel reconvertido en enfermería se prestan a cuidar y mejorar de forma desinteresada la vida de estos marginados. Tan insostenible es la situación laboral que la idea del sindicato flota en el aire, con todo lo que ello implica. Tenemos, por supuesto, una historia de amor con el comisario, y una historia de estrecha amistad entre éste último y su compinche Tom Morgan, jugador profesional y pistolero sanguinario.
Con todo este enorme y diverso plantel de personajes la novela promete y mucho, y durante el primer tercio así es. Pero al llegar a la mitad, aproximadamente, la acción comienza a espesarse, la trama se estanca o avanza como un río de melaza. Oakley Hall está mucho más preocupado en las encrucijadas morales de sus personajes que en hacer avanzar la historia, hasta el punto que su ejercicio de introspección psicológica agota por lo sublime, a niveles henryjamesianos de detalle. Uno no esperaría que gentes acostumbradas a desenfundar y disparar revólveres pudieran sumirse en tan complejos y sublimes trances meditativos.
Reconozco que estos excesos que tantas páginas ocupan han sido lo que más me ha impedido disfrutar de la historia. Hubiera preferido más saber cómo evoluciona el drama de los mineros, la fundación del sindicato y sus consecuencias antes que acompañar a Blaisedell y Morgan en su tortuosa y a veces incomprensible relación, o las justificaciones del ayudante del sheriff para sacrificarse por un concepto tan falaz como es la justicia. Lo bueno, y mejor de la novela, es lo bien narrada que está y algunos diálogos que Oakley Hall coloca a sus personajes.
Warlock es una novela que disfrutará más el lector ajeno al género western que aquel que se ha criado con los bolsilibros de Marcial Lafuente Estefanía. La adaptación con Henry Fonda y Anthony Quinn no tengo ni idea de cómo estará, pero muy seguramente hayan expurgado mucho de estos pasajes áridos. Espero, porque de no ser así la película sería un peñazo insoportable.
October 4, 2009
every now and then while i was reading this, i'd stop and close it and sort of look at it in my hands, first front cover, then back, then top and bottom, then side and spine, trying to figure out how so many people, places, and events could be held inside it. this book is like a world. a really small world, in that it all takes place within one tiny western frontier town, but by the time it ends it's like you know every inch of the place and every corner of every townsperson's soul and understand everything about the whole entire world, except somehow it's all still a wonderful, terrible mystery. anyway, this book is amazing. 500 pages and not a word too few or too many. not a missed beat or a flubbed line. it's just perfect. if there's a reason this book isn't famouser than famous, i don't know what it is. except i suppose, the fact that it's a western. oh no, horses! run away!
March 28, 2013
If you haven't already read Pynchon's encyclopedic blurb above, let me direct your attention to it right now.
Done? Well, let me assure you that every bold claim Pynchon makes about this book is true. And the beauty of it is that Warlock may be a novel of ideas, as he argues, but it is not primarily that. It's primarily a thinking man's Western, a history of authority, a gritty tale of revenge and strife. If that sounds roughly the same, there's a good reason for that: that all of the preaching or philosophizing is intricately interwoven with the story in a way that can only be described as organic, in a sharp contrast to any number of other novels that are slaves to their own philosophies.* Or another way to put it would be that with other literary novels, the story serves the philosophy, whereas in Warlock, the philosophy is firmly in the service of the story.
I'm shocked that none of my GR friends have read this book yet, since I think it's a natural book to encounter after one's read Against the Day, which is Warlock's spiritual successor. Although even knowing about it seems to require that one has read the intro to Been Down So Long it Looks Like Up to Me, which is where Pynchon mentions Warlock. Oddly, I haven't gotten to that one yet, but it'll have to happen soon, because Pynchon is 2 for 2 with 5-star recs for me.
At any rate, the aforementioned blurb was so jaw-droppingly apt that it took all the thunder out of any real review I might have written, so I'll have to be satisfied with a blanket recommendation: everybody read this!
*I've written about this in my reviews for The Recognitions and Men In Space.
Done? Well, let me assure you that every bold claim Pynchon makes about this book is true. And the beauty of it is that Warlock may be a novel of ideas, as he argues, but it is not primarily that. It's primarily a thinking man's Western, a history of authority, a gritty tale of revenge and strife. If that sounds roughly the same, there's a good reason for that: that all of the preaching or philosophizing is intricately interwoven with the story in a way that can only be described as organic, in a sharp contrast to any number of other novels that are slaves to their own philosophies.* Or another way to put it would be that with other literary novels, the story serves the philosophy, whereas in Warlock, the philosophy is firmly in the service of the story.
I'm shocked that none of my GR friends have read this book yet, since I think it's a natural book to encounter after one's read Against the Day, which is Warlock's spiritual successor. Although even knowing about it seems to require that one has read the intro to Been Down So Long it Looks Like Up to Me, which is where Pynchon mentions Warlock. Oddly, I haven't gotten to that one yet, but it'll have to happen soon, because Pynchon is 2 for 2 with 5-star recs for me.
At any rate, the aforementioned blurb was so jaw-droppingly apt that it took all the thunder out of any real review I might have written, so I'll have to be satisfied with a blanket recommendation: everybody read this!
*I've written about this in my reviews for The Recognitions and Men In Space.
November 25, 2009
Maybe I wasn't entirely in the mood for an existential moral western, or maybe I just don't know enough about frontier history and ensuing mythologies to completely appreciate the subtleties of reference and jumping-off framework for the larger themes at play here, but nonetheless, this is a damn fine book.
The plot is as convoluted and unguessable as good vintage noir. And almost every character is constantly shown from conflicting sides, like a Janus coin flipping in the hot, dry, dusty desert air into a blur of both evil and good. In fact, the bad guys often do good, the good guys sometimes do bad, and the top dog no longer knows his boots from his mustache.
But one thing is for certain within this large cast of characters full of cattle-rustling cowboys, self-righteous marshals, back-shooting outlaws, striking miners, apprenticed deputies, cunning gamblers, laudanum-imbibing doctors, boardinghouse angels, cowardly sheriffs, insane Apache-murdering generals, moralistic shopkeepers, whores, and every other citizen of Warlock not to be left out--they are all a bunch of Drama Queens, every last one of them.
The plot is as convoluted and unguessable as good vintage noir. And almost every character is constantly shown from conflicting sides, like a Janus coin flipping in the hot, dry, dusty desert air into a blur of both evil and good. In fact, the bad guys often do good, the good guys sometimes do bad, and the top dog no longer knows his boots from his mustache.
But one thing is for certain within this large cast of characters full of cattle-rustling cowboys, self-righteous marshals, back-shooting outlaws, striking miners, apprenticed deputies, cunning gamblers, laudanum-imbibing doctors, boardinghouse angels, cowardly sheriffs, insane Apache-murdering generals, moralistic shopkeepers, whores, and every other citizen of Warlock not to be left out--they are all a bunch of Drama Queens, every last one of them.
July 9, 2018
Impressive for a number of reasons. "Warlock" is an old school shootout western with a rich cast of characters. Despite the significant amount of gunfire that takes place, this is a character driven novel. As Pynchon noted in his fantastic review, Hall's novel illustrates the fragility of human society, and the quality of Hall's writing and the depth of his characters separate this novel from your standard western fare. "Warlock" is deserving of its inclusion as a Pulitzer Prize finalist.
I admit that it takes awhile for the novel to pick up steam (there are, after all, about 15-20 central characters that have to be developed), but once the stage is set, this novel is excellent. I have no idea if this is a 4 star or 5 star book, but I recommend it without hesitation.
Another note: The best character in the whole book is also the most amoral. Tom Morgan is such a rewarding character to read about and he alone might be the reason I feel the need to give this five stars.
I admit that it takes awhile for the novel to pick up steam (there are, after all, about 15-20 central characters that have to be developed), but once the stage is set, this novel is excellent. I have no idea if this is a 4 star or 5 star book, but I recommend it without hesitation.
Another note: The best character in the whole book is also the most amoral. Tom Morgan is such a rewarding character to read about and he alone might be the reason I feel the need to give this five stars.
March 12, 2017
Tanto di cappello! (pun intended)
Talmente cliché da essere meraviglioso, questo libro è un concentrato del mito del vecchio west: sole a picco, scalpiccio di zoccoli e tintinnio di speroni, folate di polvere, porte a vento, whisky, cespuglio di salsola* che rotola su una Main Street improvvisamente deserta perché “There’s a new kid in town” e l'alba è l'ora dei duelli.
Cowboy, sceriffi, pellirosse, banditi, bari, pionieri, fuorilegge, prostitute, cavalleggeri, barbieri e pianisti che rischiano la pelle. Lupi solitari dotati di colt, chaps e bandana d’ordinanza e che sotto la scorza del duro e cattivo hanno un cuore tenero.
Questo è il vecchio west. Questa è Warlock.
Menzione d'onore per Tom Morgan.
*non sto scherzando: a un certo punto...
Talmente cliché da essere meraviglioso, questo libro è un concentrato del mito del vecchio west: sole a picco, scalpiccio di zoccoli e tintinnio di speroni, folate di polvere, porte a vento, whisky, cespuglio di salsola* che rotola su una Main Street improvvisamente deserta perché “There’s a new kid in town” e l'alba è l'ora dei duelli.
Cowboy, sceriffi, pellirosse, banditi, bari, pionieri, fuorilegge, prostitute, cavalleggeri, barbieri e pianisti che rischiano la pelle. Lupi solitari dotati di colt, chaps e bandana d’ordinanza e che sotto la scorza del duro e cattivo hanno un cuore tenero.
Questo è il vecchio west. Questa è Warlock.
Menzione d'onore per Tom Morgan.
*non sto scherzando: a un certo punto...
February 10, 2019
Che romanzo!!! Ho impiegato un sacco a leggerlo perché c’era sempre qualcos’altro da iniziare e finire. Mi è sembrato simile allo stile di Steinbeck: bello, intenso, da rileggere, in tempi più brevi!
August 17, 2020
I can’t tell if this is a novel or a cheap hotel, because this thing is the BEST WESTERN.
July 15, 2020
I'm not sure how to define this book... a thinking man's western, with a 1950's psychodrama edge... that's the best I can come up with
Okay, so this is a re-imaging of the events of the Gunfight at the OK Corral in 19th century Tombstone, Arizona - in this case, renamed "Warlock". The characters apparently bear some relation to historical people, but I'm not inclined to research this topic.
So, we have a mining town, cattle-rustling cowboys out in the valley, paper cutout whores in a never-really-seen whore house, a sweet virgin who cares for sick miners, the doctor who is crushing on her hard, deputies who are periodically iced by the rustlers, and the good citizens who hire a gunslinger to become town marshall and clean up the trash. Standard Hollywood formula, but this is deceptive.
Instead of non-stop action, we get LOTS of introspection, contemplation, a Greek chorus in the form of one of the merchant's journal, and most importantly, tons and tons of doubt. Zane Grey this is not.
Recommended to anyone who is interested in a re-imagined history of the Old West.
Okay, so this is a re-imaging of the events of the Gunfight at the OK Corral in 19th century Tombstone, Arizona - in this case, renamed "Warlock". The characters apparently bear some relation to historical people, but I'm not inclined to research this topic.
So, we have a mining town, cattle-rustling cowboys out in the valley, paper cutout whores in a never-really-seen whore house, a sweet virgin who cares for sick miners, the doctor who is crushing on her hard, deputies who are periodically iced by the rustlers, and the good citizens who hire a gunslinger to become town marshall and clean up the trash. Standard Hollywood formula, but this is deceptive.
Instead of non-stop action, we get LOTS of introspection, contemplation, a Greek chorus in the form of one of the merchant's journal, and most importantly, tons and tons of doubt. Zane Grey this is not.
Recommended to anyone who is interested in a re-imagined history of the Old West.
May 15, 2019
Lo ammetto, mi sono avvicinata inizialmente a questo romanzo grazie alle parole che vi ha speso Thomas Pynchon a riguardo (e che, ovviamente, compaiono in copertina). Approfondendo un po’ scopriamo che per TP questo romanzo tratta «dell’abisso privato di Blaisedell, non troppo diverso da quello della città stessa. Prima che l'epica angosciata di Warlock sia finita – con la ribellione dei minatori, la lotta per il controllo politico della zona, le sparatorie, la violenza della folla, le crisi personali di chi è al potere – si fa strada la consapevolezza collettiva che Warlock deve affrontare ineluttabilmente il suo personale inferno: quella che viene chiamato società, con le sue leggi ed il suo rigore, è fragile e precaria e può essere riassorbita nel deserto con la stessa facilità di una cadavere in decomposizione. E’ la profonda analisi degli abissi umani che rende Warlock uno dei migliori romanzi americani. Perché siamo una Nazione in cui, molti di noi, riescono a gettare con aplomb una carta di caramella dentro il Grand Canyon, scattare una foto e andarsene; e abbiamo bisogno di voci come quella di Oakley Hall per ricordarci quanto lontano quel pezzo di carta, ancora svolazzante alle nostre spalle, deve cadere».
Come non dargli una possibilità, quindi?
Il romanzo è ambientato alla fine dell’Ottocento, nel sudovest americano, a Warlock, cittadina immaginaria in cui molti vi hanno scorto la vera Tombstone di Wyatt Earp. In questa terra di confine che tutti fanno a gara a scaricare per primi (tutori dell’ordine in testa), la legge non esiste o, se la si vuole, ce la si deve fare da soli. Quindi ci si organizza come meglio si può, per questo il Comitato Cittadino (che raggruppa i cittadini “rispettabili” di Warlock), decide di assoldare un nuovo marshal: chiamano il pistolero Clay Blaisedell, vera e propria leggenda del West, famoso per le sue uccisioni illustri di banditi e cowboy.
Con Blaisedell ci troviamo, però, di fronte ad una figura insolita rispetto ai classici personaggi stereotipati dei western: il nuovo marshal è una figura tormentata e umana, piena di dubbi e ripensamenti. Non uccide con convinzione, ma è assediato da sensi di colpa, fin quasi ad arrivare a detestare il suo grande pregio: la velocità con cui estrae le pistole e spara. E proprio questo che lo ha reso famoso e lo ha condotto a Warlock, ma è anche questa la sua stessa condanna.
Il romanzo alterna diversi punti di vista, si passa dalla narrazione in prima persona ad altre in terza persona e ad altre ancora costituite dalle pagine di diario di Henry Goodpasture, che funzionano in particolare come incarnazione del comune sentire della comunità di Warlock e dei suoi interessi, fedele specchio di quelli dei commercianti, categoria di cui Goodpasture fa parte. «Sono disposto a perdonare la mancanza di rispetto, il biasimo e l’insulto», scrive Goodpasture, «ma chi minaccia i miei beni non avrà mai il mio perdono». Queste sono le vere ragioni del Comitato Cittadino, o almeno di gran parte di esso: i soldi. Ed è proprio qui che l’analisi di TP trova terreno fertile, perché chi meglio di Goodpasture incarna il prototipo di americano medio, interessato principalmente al suo orticello, desideroso di legge e ordine solo finché possono essere piegati al suo personale interesse?
Nel mondo di Warlock non mancano ovviamente i cowboy, le puttane, i saloon, pistoleri e minatori che lottano per un salario e condizioni lavorative migliori. Tutto fa da contorno alla vera protagonista del romanzo, che è la città stessa, un luogo di transito e trasformazione, che vorrebbe diventare una Società, dotarsi di regole, ma che ci mostra quanto sia dannatamente difficile farlo e mantenere questo status. Warlock è così città di frontiera geografica e culturale, un luogo dove il ripetersi delle azioni (da intendersi come violenza…) ostacola la voglia di riscatto di altri.
Come non dargli una possibilità, quindi?
Il romanzo è ambientato alla fine dell’Ottocento, nel sudovest americano, a Warlock, cittadina immaginaria in cui molti vi hanno scorto la vera Tombstone di Wyatt Earp. In questa terra di confine che tutti fanno a gara a scaricare per primi (tutori dell’ordine in testa), la legge non esiste o, se la si vuole, ce la si deve fare da soli. Quindi ci si organizza come meglio si può, per questo il Comitato Cittadino (che raggruppa i cittadini “rispettabili” di Warlock), decide di assoldare un nuovo marshal: chiamano il pistolero Clay Blaisedell, vera e propria leggenda del West, famoso per le sue uccisioni illustri di banditi e cowboy.
Con Blaisedell ci troviamo, però, di fronte ad una figura insolita rispetto ai classici personaggi stereotipati dei western: il nuovo marshal è una figura tormentata e umana, piena di dubbi e ripensamenti. Non uccide con convinzione, ma è assediato da sensi di colpa, fin quasi ad arrivare a detestare il suo grande pregio: la velocità con cui estrae le pistole e spara. E proprio questo che lo ha reso famoso e lo ha condotto a Warlock, ma è anche questa la sua stessa condanna.
Il romanzo alterna diversi punti di vista, si passa dalla narrazione in prima persona ad altre in terza persona e ad altre ancora costituite dalle pagine di diario di Henry Goodpasture, che funzionano in particolare come incarnazione del comune sentire della comunità di Warlock e dei suoi interessi, fedele specchio di quelli dei commercianti, categoria di cui Goodpasture fa parte. «Sono disposto a perdonare la mancanza di rispetto, il biasimo e l’insulto», scrive Goodpasture, «ma chi minaccia i miei beni non avrà mai il mio perdono». Queste sono le vere ragioni del Comitato Cittadino, o almeno di gran parte di esso: i soldi. Ed è proprio qui che l’analisi di TP trova terreno fertile, perché chi meglio di Goodpasture incarna il prototipo di americano medio, interessato principalmente al suo orticello, desideroso di legge e ordine solo finché possono essere piegati al suo personale interesse?
Nel mondo di Warlock non mancano ovviamente i cowboy, le puttane, i saloon, pistoleri e minatori che lottano per un salario e condizioni lavorative migliori. Tutto fa da contorno alla vera protagonista del romanzo, che è la città stessa, un luogo di transito e trasformazione, che vorrebbe diventare una Società, dotarsi di regole, ma che ci mostra quanto sia dannatamente difficile farlo e mantenere questo status. Warlock è così città di frontiera geografica e culturale, un luogo dove il ripetersi delle azioni (da intendersi come violenza…) ostacola la voglia di riscatto di altri.
May 2, 2020
Quando non esistono un bene e un male, per cos’è che gli uomini combattono?
⠀
Questa non è la storia dei buoni che combattono i cattivi. È la storia di come in totale anarchia, gli uomini gestiscono la propria vita in comune. Ci sono sparatorie, minacce, vendette, ma anche amicizia, paura, lutto. Succede il finimondo eppure non è un libro di pura trama. C’è l’abisso dietro a uomini come Gannon, Blaisedell, Morgan e anche McQuown. C’è chi combatte con il peso schiacciante del proprio orgoglio, chi difende a qualunque costo il proprio ideale e chi invece fa i conti con la paura di diventare nessuno. I tempi potranno anche cambiare ma la natura dell’uomo sfugge a confini cronologici.
⠀
Se c’è una cosa che ho capito negli anni è che quello che mi piace trovare nei libri è l’umanità più grezza, primitiva, viscerale. E in questo libro ce l’ho trovata, insieme ad una Storia con la S maiuscola. Hall non ha fatto che stupirmi, pagina dopo pagina. Quando pensavo che la storia sarebbe andata in una direzione, ecco una brusca deviazione, fino all’ultima pagina, santo cielo, e chi se l’aspettava che andasse a finire così. Le ultime cento pagine sono state un uragano di sudori freddi.
⠀
E in tutto questo Warlock non fa solo da sfondo, Warlock pulsa di vita propria. Warlock è l’emporio di Goodpasture, è il Lucky Dollar, la pensione Peach, i Dinosauri, è la nuvola di polvere alzata dai cavalli. Ma Warlock è anche Gannon, la signorina Jessie, Abe McQuown, MacDonald. Uno di quei luoghi fatto di posti e personaggi che ti costruisci in testa con una tale minuziosità che ti sembra di esserci stato davvero. E nonostante gli scontri a fuoco all’ordine del giorno, è stato un viaggio bellissimo che non dimenticherò tanto facilmente.
⠀
«Ho notato che in un recente volume di memoria sul West si parla di Blaisedell più come di un eroe quasi inventato che come di un uomo in carne ed ossa. Ma era un uomo: posso attestarlo, avendolo io visto mangiare e bere, respirare e sanguinare. E a dispetto delle storie […] non ci sono stati tanti uomini come lui o anche come Morgan, McQuown e John Gannon.»
⠀
Questa non è la storia dei buoni che combattono i cattivi. È la storia di come in totale anarchia, gli uomini gestiscono la propria vita in comune. Ci sono sparatorie, minacce, vendette, ma anche amicizia, paura, lutto. Succede il finimondo eppure non è un libro di pura trama. C’è l’abisso dietro a uomini come Gannon, Blaisedell, Morgan e anche McQuown. C’è chi combatte con il peso schiacciante del proprio orgoglio, chi difende a qualunque costo il proprio ideale e chi invece fa i conti con la paura di diventare nessuno. I tempi potranno anche cambiare ma la natura dell’uomo sfugge a confini cronologici.
⠀
Se c’è una cosa che ho capito negli anni è che quello che mi piace trovare nei libri è l’umanità più grezza, primitiva, viscerale. E in questo libro ce l’ho trovata, insieme ad una Storia con la S maiuscola. Hall non ha fatto che stupirmi, pagina dopo pagina. Quando pensavo che la storia sarebbe andata in una direzione, ecco una brusca deviazione, fino all’ultima pagina, santo cielo, e chi se l’aspettava che andasse a finire così. Le ultime cento pagine sono state un uragano di sudori freddi.
⠀
E in tutto questo Warlock non fa solo da sfondo, Warlock pulsa di vita propria. Warlock è l’emporio di Goodpasture, è il Lucky Dollar, la pensione Peach, i Dinosauri, è la nuvola di polvere alzata dai cavalli. Ma Warlock è anche Gannon, la signorina Jessie, Abe McQuown, MacDonald. Uno di quei luoghi fatto di posti e personaggi che ti costruisci in testa con una tale minuziosità che ti sembra di esserci stato davvero. E nonostante gli scontri a fuoco all’ordine del giorno, è stato un viaggio bellissimo che non dimenticherò tanto facilmente.
⠀
«Ho notato che in un recente volume di memoria sul West si parla di Blaisedell più come di un eroe quasi inventato che come di un uomo in carne ed ossa. Ma era un uomo: posso attestarlo, avendolo io visto mangiare e bere, respirare e sanguinare. E a dispetto delle storie […] non ci sono stati tanti uomini come lui o anche come Morgan, McQuown e John Gannon.»
March 18, 2020
A true anti-Western. This is not a romanticized vision of the Wild West, where gunslingers are seen as noble wandering samurai and everyone cheers when he guns down the bad guy. Here, morality is very gray and when people die--even main characters--it is with very little fanfare (sometimes even happening off screen). This is a story about people who think violence will solve their problems, but end up finding out that all it does is stain their souls.
January 3, 2023
Traduzione perfetta (chapeau a Pincio) e romanzo bellissimo.
Non mi piacciono i western: non li guardo, non li leggo, non li reggo, ma Warlock è magnetico e sì, ci sono polvere, saloon, cowboys e pistoleri, ma è anche -e soprattutto- molto di più.
Bello.
Non mi piacciono i western: non li guardo, non li leggo, non li reggo, ma Warlock è magnetico e sì, ci sono polvere, saloon, cowboys e pistoleri, ma è anche -e soprattutto- molto di più.
Bello.
February 13, 2009
I’ve wanted to read this book since I spied Thomas Pynchon’s endorsement in his introduction to Richard Farina’s Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up to Me, in which he reveals that he and Farina were fond of aping the book’s peculiar dialect. “We set about getting others to read it too, and for a while had a micro-cult going," he writes. "Soon a number of us were talking in Warlock dialogue, a kind of thoughtful, stylized, Victorian Wild West diction.” Pynchon’s influences are encyclopaedic but this book seemed like an odd choice: a retelling of the story of Wyatt Earp versus the Clanton Gang in Tombstone, Arizona. This didn’t resonate with my reading of Pynchon at all – until Against the Day came out.
I finally tucked into Warlock this year and finished it last night. It’s an amazing work of fiction. The novel is set in Warlock but you can’t really call it a town – there’s no sheriff and every deputy who has pinned a star to his chest has either been run off or killed. It’s a desolate, lawless outpost of humanity that wouldn’t exist at all if it wasn’t for the nearby mines. Every so often cattle rustlers led by a renegade named McQuown ride up from San Pablo six hours away to raise hell. When the barber is killed the citizens decide enough is enough and send for a hired gun – Clay Blaisedell – to serve as Marshall.
As good as advertised with a pair of gold handled pistols given to him by a writer of cheap Western novelettes, Blaisedell restores order to Warlock, but it’s a species of order that is compromised by Blaisedell’s ruthlessly short-tempered companion, Tom Morgan, and complicated by Warlock’s newest deputy, John Gannon, a former member of the McQuown Gang.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The cast of characters in what Pynchon refers to in the jacket copy as an “agonized epic” is amazing: a one-legged alcoholic judge, a laudanum-taking doctor, a bad guy (a composite of Doc Holliday and Morgan Earp, Wyatt’s brother) who is a genuine sociopath, whores learning new tricks, anarchic miners, ruthless rustlers, lynch mobs out for rope justice, Apaches on the warpath, a piano player cut down in his prime, and an insane Cavalry officer who keeps the shaft of an arrow he was shot with in an leather case.
Hall’s masterstroke is the presentation of Blaisedell and Gannon: men who are neither good nor evil, but whose behavior vacillates between the two. These characters are incredibly complex, which puts Warlock head and shoulders above horse operas where the sheriff wears white and the bad guys always end up on Boot Hill. William S. Burroughs, no stranger to oaters, writes: “Some’s bastards, some’s ain’t. That’s the score.” Not in Warlock. This multiplicity of morals reflects the strange career of Wyatt Earp who was a champion to some and a villain to others, depending on where he was and when you happened to meet him. In other words, a true American hero.
This brings me back to Pynchon; I’d like to point out some of the aspects of Warlock that might have influenced him:
1) CAST OF THOUSANDS: Warlock, we’re told, is sparsely populated, but in the course of the novel it feels like we meet every blessed citizen. When we’re in the company of McQuown’s gang or a congregation of striking miners, everyone is listed by name. Pynchon and Hall were both in the military and servicemen turned writers understand the lie of an intimate cast of characters who are together from boot camp until they die in each other's arms on the field of battle. The real world, especially the military, doesn’t work that way. The bane of your existence during 90 days of basic training may never be seen or heard from again and the guy you served with in Japan might suddenly pop up in San Diego ten years down the road. Compression is essential in movies, which get their structure from the stage, but Pynchon sees no need for compressing characters in his sprawling novels and he seems to have gotten that from Hall. In Warlock’s defense you need a big cast when dozens get planted in the ground.
2) ON-THE-NOSE NAMES: From V’s Benny Profane to Against the Day’s Mia Culpepper (I didn’t catch the pun until I started listening to the audio book), Pynchon has never been afraid to saddle his characters with preposterous names. Some =times the names are clues, other times ciphers, and much of the time they are jokes – both of the practical and private variety. The first person we meet in Warlock is Henry Holmes Goodpasture, who minds the general store and serves as Warlock’s moral compass. We meet men with colorful names like Curley Burne, Peter Bacon, Pike Skinner, and so forth. And can there be any doubt that the affections of a lady less than virtuous named Kate Dollar will come at a steep price?
3) “WARLOCK TALK”: Here’s a sample of the “thoughtful, stylized, Victorian Wild West diction” that fired Pynchon’s imagination. “I am not going to see him choused and badgered and false-sworn and yawped at fit to puke by a one-legged old son of a bitch like you!” Warlock is full of talk of “burned up peace officers” and “San Pablo hardcases.” I never thought of Pynchon as a writer who engaged in much regional (or temporal) vernacular, but it’s all over Against the Day. Again, this could be the result of listening to the audio book version, but the frequency and ease with which he slips into “thoughtful, stylized, Victorian Wild West” diction is startling. Pynchon pulls it all off because he uses dialogue sparingly and his narrators frequently end up sounding like Goodpasture:
“The earth is an ugly place, senseless, brutal, cruel, and ruthlessly bent only upon the destruction of men’s souls. The God of the Old Testament rules a world not worth His trouble, and He is more violent, more jealous, more terrible with the years. We are only those poor, bare, forked animals Lear saw upon this dismal heath, in pursuit of death, pursued by death.”
Sounds downright Pynchonese, doesn’t it? It’s almost as if Hall is channeling Pynchon’s Puritan forebears. I’m probably guilty of drinking the Kool-Aid of the micro-cult; nevertheless, Warlock is a fascinating read, if a bit on the long side, but worthy of your attention all the same.
I finally tucked into Warlock this year and finished it last night. It’s an amazing work of fiction. The novel is set in Warlock but you can’t really call it a town – there’s no sheriff and every deputy who has pinned a star to his chest has either been run off or killed. It’s a desolate, lawless outpost of humanity that wouldn’t exist at all if it wasn’t for the nearby mines. Every so often cattle rustlers led by a renegade named McQuown ride up from San Pablo six hours away to raise hell. When the barber is killed the citizens decide enough is enough and send for a hired gun – Clay Blaisedell – to serve as Marshall.
As good as advertised with a pair of gold handled pistols given to him by a writer of cheap Western novelettes, Blaisedell restores order to Warlock, but it’s a species of order that is compromised by Blaisedell’s ruthlessly short-tempered companion, Tom Morgan, and complicated by Warlock’s newest deputy, John Gannon, a former member of the McQuown Gang.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The cast of characters in what Pynchon refers to in the jacket copy as an “agonized epic” is amazing: a one-legged alcoholic judge, a laudanum-taking doctor, a bad guy (a composite of Doc Holliday and Morgan Earp, Wyatt’s brother) who is a genuine sociopath, whores learning new tricks, anarchic miners, ruthless rustlers, lynch mobs out for rope justice, Apaches on the warpath, a piano player cut down in his prime, and an insane Cavalry officer who keeps the shaft of an arrow he was shot with in an leather case.
Hall’s masterstroke is the presentation of Blaisedell and Gannon: men who are neither good nor evil, but whose behavior vacillates between the two. These characters are incredibly complex, which puts Warlock head and shoulders above horse operas where the sheriff wears white and the bad guys always end up on Boot Hill. William S. Burroughs, no stranger to oaters, writes: “Some’s bastards, some’s ain’t. That’s the score.” Not in Warlock. This multiplicity of morals reflects the strange career of Wyatt Earp who was a champion to some and a villain to others, depending on where he was and when you happened to meet him. In other words, a true American hero.
This brings me back to Pynchon; I’d like to point out some of the aspects of Warlock that might have influenced him:
1) CAST OF THOUSANDS: Warlock, we’re told, is sparsely populated, but in the course of the novel it feels like we meet every blessed citizen. When we’re in the company of McQuown’s gang or a congregation of striking miners, everyone is listed by name. Pynchon and Hall were both in the military and servicemen turned writers understand the lie of an intimate cast of characters who are together from boot camp until they die in each other's arms on the field of battle. The real world, especially the military, doesn’t work that way. The bane of your existence during 90 days of basic training may never be seen or heard from again and the guy you served with in Japan might suddenly pop up in San Diego ten years down the road. Compression is essential in movies, which get their structure from the stage, but Pynchon sees no need for compressing characters in his sprawling novels and he seems to have gotten that from Hall. In Warlock’s defense you need a big cast when dozens get planted in the ground.
2) ON-THE-NOSE NAMES: From V’s Benny Profane to Against the Day’s Mia Culpepper (I didn’t catch the pun until I started listening to the audio book), Pynchon has never been afraid to saddle his characters with preposterous names. Some =times the names are clues, other times ciphers, and much of the time they are jokes – both of the practical and private variety. The first person we meet in Warlock is Henry Holmes Goodpasture, who minds the general store and serves as Warlock’s moral compass. We meet men with colorful names like Curley Burne, Peter Bacon, Pike Skinner, and so forth. And can there be any doubt that the affections of a lady less than virtuous named Kate Dollar will come at a steep price?
3) “WARLOCK TALK”: Here’s a sample of the “thoughtful, stylized, Victorian Wild West diction” that fired Pynchon’s imagination. “I am not going to see him choused and badgered and false-sworn and yawped at fit to puke by a one-legged old son of a bitch like you!” Warlock is full of talk of “burned up peace officers” and “San Pablo hardcases.” I never thought of Pynchon as a writer who engaged in much regional (or temporal) vernacular, but it’s all over Against the Day. Again, this could be the result of listening to the audio book version, but the frequency and ease with which he slips into “thoughtful, stylized, Victorian Wild West” diction is startling. Pynchon pulls it all off because he uses dialogue sparingly and his narrators frequently end up sounding like Goodpasture:
“The earth is an ugly place, senseless, brutal, cruel, and ruthlessly bent only upon the destruction of men’s souls. The God of the Old Testament rules a world not worth His trouble, and He is more violent, more jealous, more terrible with the years. We are only those poor, bare, forked animals Lear saw upon this dismal heath, in pursuit of death, pursued by death.”
Sounds downright Pynchonese, doesn’t it? It’s almost as if Hall is channeling Pynchon’s Puritan forebears. I’m probably guilty of drinking the Kool-Aid of the micro-cult; nevertheless, Warlock is a fascinating read, if a bit on the long side, but worthy of your attention all the same.
November 4, 2024
Novela del mal llamado género Western.
Warlock es un pueblo minero fronterizo. Está a una jornada a caballo de la ciudad de la que depende, ya que no tiene status propio. No hay sheriff, ya que el titular, está en la ciudad de Bright's City.
En el pueblo hay dos saloons, algunos comercios, la comisaría donde está un ayudante del sheriff, un refugio para los mineros enfermos. Unas calles polvorientas, que se transforman en barro cuando llueve, un establo y poco más.
Muchos personajes (es una novela de personajes), vaqueros que arman revuelo los fines de semana en la ciudad, forajidos, mineros, una prostituta que busca venganza, un comisario pagado por una junta de vecinos buscando la seguridad en el pueblo que no tienen, un jugador de cartas bastante trilero amigo del comisario, gente valiente, gente cobarde, pocas personas de moral intachable, mucho gris y poco blanco y negro.
Dos de los personajes principales, Blaisedell y Tom Morgan, recuerdan a Wyatt Earp y Doc Holliday, con un tiroteo en el establo que recuerda al de OK Corral.
Gran novela, con un ritmo pausado, en un ambiente opresivo. Muy recomendable
Warlock es un pueblo minero fronterizo. Está a una jornada a caballo de la ciudad de la que depende, ya que no tiene status propio. No hay sheriff, ya que el titular, está en la ciudad de Bright's City.
En el pueblo hay dos saloons, algunos comercios, la comisaría donde está un ayudante del sheriff, un refugio para los mineros enfermos. Unas calles polvorientas, que se transforman en barro cuando llueve, un establo y poco más.
Muchos personajes (es una novela de personajes), vaqueros que arman revuelo los fines de semana en la ciudad, forajidos, mineros, una prostituta que busca venganza, un comisario pagado por una junta de vecinos buscando la seguridad en el pueblo que no tienen, un jugador de cartas bastante trilero amigo del comisario, gente valiente, gente cobarde, pocas personas de moral intachable, mucho gris y poco blanco y negro.
Dos de los personajes principales, Blaisedell y Tom Morgan, recuerdan a Wyatt Earp y Doc Holliday, con un tiroteo en el establo que recuerda al de OK Corral.
Gran novela, con un ritmo pausado, en un ambiente opresivo. Muy recomendable
June 1, 2021
A book with a big and deserved reputation. Hall takes a few historical incidents and characters, smudges them somewhat and reshuffles the pack so that Billy the Kid (or, a Billy the Kid) dies in a gunfight at an Acme Corral, not the OK and not by the gun of Pat Garrett. The novel is set in 1881, but the fictional events happen at dates other than the real ones – everything is shifted just that bit sideways, mythologized.
The abiding theme of the work is the question: How does a member of society, a citizen, “do the right thing”? When are personal loyalties the “right” thing, the moral imperative that overrides civic responsibilities? And, whatever form the obligation takes, how strong is it to force a person to do “something” rather than nothing? Sometimes the search of one’s conscience to define that “right thing” obligation creates a pressure which is, in effect, debilitating. Beyond the time and place in which the novel is set, these are questions all of us face, whether it be the blatant evil of too many national governments (elected or otherwise), or the seedy but “mild” corruption of a local council. When does the moment come when you feel you must step up and confront these things?
Written in a crisp, visual style, Warlock was in fact very quickly made into a big-budget, big star Western, although not, in my opinion, a particularly good one. But then, as we have remarked here before, how often do we see a good book rendered into a mediocre film?
This is, above all, a very readable book. It draws you into the world of a dusty western town beyond the frontier and keeps you interested until the last line.
The abiding theme of the work is the question: How does a member of society, a citizen, “do the right thing”? When are personal loyalties the “right” thing, the moral imperative that overrides civic responsibilities? And, whatever form the obligation takes, how strong is it to force a person to do “something” rather than nothing? Sometimes the search of one’s conscience to define that “right thing” obligation creates a pressure which is, in effect, debilitating. Beyond the time and place in which the novel is set, these are questions all of us face, whether it be the blatant evil of too many national governments (elected or otherwise), or the seedy but “mild” corruption of a local council. When does the moment come when you feel you must step up and confront these things?
Written in a crisp, visual style, Warlock was in fact very quickly made into a big-budget, big star Western, although not, in my opinion, a particularly good one. But then, as we have remarked here before, how often do we see a good book rendered into a mediocre film?
This is, above all, a very readable book. It draws you into the world of a dusty western town beyond the frontier and keeps you interested until the last line.
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