Hombre

Book Review

My plan is to review more or less every book I read, good or bad, for better or worse? Why? Well if you enjoy my fiction, then I would hazard a guess, you will be interested in what I am reading and may find something that catches your interest. And second, I think it’s a good practice. Not only do I read a bit more analytically when I know I’m on the hook for a review, but most importantly, it prevents me from brain dumping whatever I just read.

Many fans of the western genre (and lit snobs alike) consider this to be one of the best western novels ever written. You see it pop up all the time in top 20 lists, and I can see the argument for placing it there. The perennial troll in me wants to rage bait by claiming that it’s overrated, but I won’t, because it is pretty dang good.

BLUF:

A bit slow, but technically brilliant. Leonard nails the ending in a way that makes the read worth it.

4 out of 5 stars

From the Back Cover:

John Russell was raised as an Apache, and even served as a member of the tribal police. Now the time has come for him to leave the San Carlos reservation far behind and live again as a white man. The stagecoach passengers he's traveling with want nothing to do with this man they call "Hombre," forcing him to ride in the boot with the driver. But they change their tune when outlaws ride down on them. Suddenly they all must rely on Russell's guns and his ability to survive in the desert. They shunned John Russell, and now they must follow him . . . or die.

My Thoughts:

Like the blurb above states, the story follows John Russel who was raised by Apaches. Russell is white, which is clearly demonstrated by his bright blue A10 eyes, which is also why Paul Newman was actually a good casting in the 1967 movie adaptation. Now, although Russell is white, he is culturally an Apache. After Russel’s father dies, and wills him a ranch, he begins his journey to rejoin civilization and live again with the whites.

The stage is beset by bandits who are after the money one of the passenger’s is carrying. This passenger is a Dr. Alexander Favor, who worked on the Apache reservation as an Indian Agent. Favor has made off with a large sum of cash he made through an embezzlement scheme that cheated the Apache out of their Government food allotment. Essentially, the well to do Doctor was selling off a portion of the cows meant for the Indians and pocketing the profits.

This money becomes the McGuffin that drives most of the story forward. Russell manages to drive off the bandits, but not before they steal the horses. That he manages to get his hands on the money, means the bandits continue to harass them. And that Russell keeps the money in his care, means that the rest of the passengers are unable to buy their way out of the situation by giving it to the bandits. And so begins a game of wills.

Although Russel is clearly the protagonist, he is not the narrator. The narrator is Carl, a young man who works for the stage line and who also ends up as a passenger. Notably, the narrator is fairly unlikeable, if for the simple fact that he is kind of a coward. And not in any insidious or devious way, but the more normal way that 98% of the population are cowards—yes, including us the high minded reader.

We don’t want to be cowardly. We like to think that we are capable of defending ourselves and believe we would stand up for the weak, but at the end of the day, many of us are slaves to our own weakness and incompetence. That we may not have many, if any, martial skills and limited will to commit violence, is no grounds to pretend moral superiority. They say that ignorance of the law is no excuse, and the same holds for the laws of the jungle. When faced with truly violent men, most of us would likely find ourselves so unevenly matched that the only way to survive, is to sit back, sit down, shut up, and go along. This is, in a sense, the real curse of weakness. The curse of the normal guy. Weakness breeds this sort of petty delusion, the kind that prevents us from living out our highest spiritual and moral obligations.

Regardless, placing this specific character as the narrator is what I believe has elevated a fairly routine genre western with a straightforward and well worn plot to top 20 lists. For any writer’s reading this, it is an A++ example of how POV and choice of a narrator can shape a story.

On a related note, I was reading a review of Louis L’Amour’s the First Fast Draw, and the reviewer was complaining about the first person narration (with the narrator as the hero) and how he thought that first person doesn’t work great for westerns. Mainly, because the protagonist can tend to come off as just a giant narcissist or alternately, a bit too soft and introspective. The western trope of a strong, silent stranger coming to town and cleaning up the bad guys almost necessitates a 3rd person POV.

Ultimately, I think this makes for a strong argument, and something to consider when writing westerns. Hombre certainly proves this out. By making the narrator a wimpy normal guy, Leonard allows us to see John Russell from his eyes, and the mysterious stranger effect is dialed up to 100. It also means that almost all of John Russell’s character is shown via action and dialogue, since we never get to peak inside of his head. This provides much of the narrative tension in the story, as I was always trying to figure out if John is truly a good guy, what he will do next, and what makes him tick.

Notably, Russell is established early on as not really giving a rat’s ass what the other passengers think. He lives by his code and his alone. He is immune to peer pressure and appears to feel very little impulse to get involved in another man or woman’s problems. Bullies are the problem of the man bullied. This is what Russel says, but what does he do?

I won’t spoil the ending, because it really is quite good and the whole thing hangs on the tension of what comes next. A warning however, the first two acts move a bit slow.