The West

I can't get into the modern literary tales of the West. I use that labored phrasing to avoid saying "Western," as I want to separate 20th century stories of people and families coping with the challenges of living in great isolation from adventure stories of the 19th century. Wallace Stegner is a popular modern Western writer. I read Big Rock Candy Mountain and thought it decent. I started Angle of Repose but couldn't get into it. Crossing to Safety is sitting around the house, read by my spouse but not by me. The man won prizes galore and gets top marks from everyone, but it always felt a little bit like a longer Steinbeck to me.

I had an even harder time with Ivan Doig. I read English Creek and just did not get it. I love Montana, it's gorgeous, but apparently I don't want to read about it. I don't understand why these books don't click for me. It could be, despite living in the West, that I am city person at heart. It could also be that I am a southerner and as the t-shirts used to say "you wouldn't understand."

One exception to my western aversion is Cormac McCarthy, but he is so stylistically singular that he would be an exception. I will say that I found his stripped down No Country for Old Men to be less appealing than Blood Meridian.