What do you think?
Rate this book
The Literary West: An Anthology of Western American Literature
A collection of over forty essays, short stories, poems, novel excerpts, and diary entries offers a look at the American West from its early days to the present
464 pages, Hardcover
First published May 20, 1999
1 person is currently reading
18 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
Read
November 15, 2024## Sarah Winnemucca: _Life Among the Piutes_
"The government does not take care to send the good men; there are plent who would take pains to see and understand the chiefs and learn their characters, and their good will to the whites. But the whites have not waited to find out how good the Indians were, and what ideas they had of God, just like those of Jesus, who called him Father, just as my people do, and told men to do tho others as they would be done by, just as my people teach their children to do. My people teach their children never to make fun of anyone, no matter how they look. If you see your brother or sister doing something wrong, look away, or go away from them. If you make fun of bad persons, you make yourself beneath them. Be kind to all, both poor and rich, and feed all that come to your wigwam, and your name can be spoken of by every one far and near. In this way you will make many friends for yourself. Be kind both to bad and good, for you don't know your own heart. This is the way my people teach their children. It was handed down from father to son for many generations. I never in my life saw our children rude as I have seen white children and grown people in the streets."
I will repeat what we say of ourselves. "I, Sarah Winnemucca, am a shell-flower, such as I wear on my dress. My name is Thocmetony. I am so beautiful! Who will come and dance with me while I am so beautiful? Oh, come and be happy with me! I shall be beautiful while the earth lasts. Somebody will always admire me; and who will come and be happy with me in the Spirit-land? I shall be beautiful forever there. Yes, I shall be more beautiful than my shell-flower, my Thocmetony! Then, come, oh come, and dance and be happy with me!" The young men sing with us as they dance beside us.
## John Muir, _My First Summer in the Sierra_
"Found a lovely lily (Calochortus albus) in a shady adenostoma thicket near Coulterville, in company with Adiantum Chilense. It is white with a faint purplish tinge inside at the base of the petals, a most impressive plant, pure as a snow crystal, one of the plant saints that all must love and be made so much the purer by it every time it is seen. It puts the roughest mountaineer on his good behavior. With this plant the whole world would seem rich though none other existed. It is not easy to keep on with the camp cloud while such plant people are standing preaching by the wayside."
## Owen Wister, _The Virginian_
Looking there at ease against the wall was a slim young giant, more beautiful than pictures. His broad, soft hat was pushed back; a loose-knotted, dull scarlet handkerchief sagged from his throat, and one casual thumb was hooked into the cartridge belt that slanted across his hips. He had plainly come many miles from somewhere across the vast horizon, as the dust upon him showed. His boots were white with it. His overalls were gray with it. The weather-beaten bloom of his face shown through it duskily, as the ripe peaches look upon their tree in the dry season. But no dinginess of travel or shabbiness of attire could tarnish the splendor that radiated from his youth and strength.
"The government does not take care to send the good men; there are plent who would take pains to see and understand the chiefs and learn their characters, and their good will to the whites. But the whites have not waited to find out how good the Indians were, and what ideas they had of God, just like those of Jesus, who called him Father, just as my people do, and told men to do tho others as they would be done by, just as my people teach their children to do. My people teach their children never to make fun of anyone, no matter how they look. If you see your brother or sister doing something wrong, look away, or go away from them. If you make fun of bad persons, you make yourself beneath them. Be kind to all, both poor and rich, and feed all that come to your wigwam, and your name can be spoken of by every one far and near. In this way you will make many friends for yourself. Be kind both to bad and good, for you don't know your own heart. This is the way my people teach their children. It was handed down from father to son for many generations. I never in my life saw our children rude as I have seen white children and grown people in the streets."
I will repeat what we say of ourselves. "I, Sarah Winnemucca, am a shell-flower, such as I wear on my dress. My name is Thocmetony. I am so beautiful! Who will come and dance with me while I am so beautiful? Oh, come and be happy with me! I shall be beautiful while the earth lasts. Somebody will always admire me; and who will come and be happy with me in the Spirit-land? I shall be beautiful forever there. Yes, I shall be more beautiful than my shell-flower, my Thocmetony! Then, come, oh come, and dance and be happy with me!" The young men sing with us as they dance beside us.
## John Muir, _My First Summer in the Sierra_
"Found a lovely lily (Calochortus albus) in a shady adenostoma thicket near Coulterville, in company with Adiantum Chilense. It is white with a faint purplish tinge inside at the base of the petals, a most impressive plant, pure as a snow crystal, one of the plant saints that all must love and be made so much the purer by it every time it is seen. It puts the roughest mountaineer on his good behavior. With this plant the whole world would seem rich though none other existed. It is not easy to keep on with the camp cloud while such plant people are standing preaching by the wayside."
## Owen Wister, _The Virginian_
Looking there at ease against the wall was a slim young giant, more beautiful than pictures. His broad, soft hat was pushed back; a loose-knotted, dull scarlet handkerchief sagged from his throat, and one casual thumb was hooked into the cartridge belt that slanted across his hips. He had plainly come many miles from somewhere across the vast horizon, as the dust upon him showed. His boots were white with it. His overalls were gray with it. The weather-beaten bloom of his face shown through it duskily, as the ripe peaches look upon their tree in the dry season. But no dinginess of travel or shabbiness of attire could tarnish the splendor that radiated from his youth and strength.
November 14, 2017
Excellent compilation of stories, poems and excerpts that capture the changing perception of and experience in the American West. Lyon takes care to find nuanced portrayals of life, even the romanticized cowboy era selections. Many well known authors represented, a great primer for the genre.
April 3, 2022
Outstanding compendium of excerpts of U.S. western literature. Featured writers range from Zane Gray to Rick Bass to Rudolf Anaya and so many more superb authors. I really enjoyed every author and every page.
July 11, 2015
This book is not the collection of short stories that I was looking for, but was instead a sampler of parts of other works about the west. There is nothing that was not worth the time spent reading, but it just wasnt what I was expecting.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews