It would be fair to say that the deconstruction has firmly taken hold of the Western genre in movies. But while an appreciation of Sergio Leone is omnipresent to the point of cliché for cinema buffs, in literature, Louis L’Amor, Zane Grey, and William W. Johnstone reign supreme. Cormac McCarthy’s apocalyptic Western horrors being the exception that makes the rule.
But Western books have their own subversion, and I wanted to spotlight those. The men’s adventure, the pulp fiction, the outright smut. These are the books that inspired my own novel, A Man Called Bone, and I hope it does right by its muses.
A Man Called Bone is a Western about a saloon girl named Sophia Larraga and a bounty hunter named Jeremiah Bone. Bone comes to Sophia’s little town to collect his money for the killing of four bad men; he spends it on Sophia, but she wants more from him than money. And he wants more than just sharing her bed.
By the end of the week, one of them is going to get what they want, and a lot of people are going to be dead.
Much like Italian filmmakers managed to create the spaghetti western by riffing on the genre from an ocean away, English pulp writers created the Piccadilly Western: violent, cynical, sometimes even too edgy for its own good. The Adam Steele books often verge on tastelessness with their violence and insensitivity, but that’s relieved by a sort of dark humor—often groan-inducing. It can be a lot to take, but for those who prefer too much to too little… Adam Steele is definitely not too little. The first book has Civil War hero Steele going outlaw to avenge his murdered father, with his best friend as the lawman hot on his trail.
Abraham Lincoln is assassinated whilst at the theater in Washington. A great and honorable President is mourned by many, but his passing brings rejoicing to those Southerners defeated in the Civil War. Adam Steele finds he has a private grief to mourn, when he discovers the body of his father slowly swinging on a makeshift gallows. This is a sorrow he cannot share with other men. He sets out on a mission with deadly purpose. A vendetta that will turn old friends into enemies, that will bring a slow or sudden death to the marked men.
Before settling into the chronicle of the title character, this first entry in the Undertaker series (from the author of the much longer-running Edge books as well) follows a circuitous course involving an unfaithful wife and a vengeful husband. I won’t spoil the surprises along the way, but the Undertaker himself pushes the Western antihero to its limit. He’s all but emotionless, very nearly a sociopath, but with a certain competence and honor that gives him an appeal. (Even though he’s further saddled by the lame catchphrase ‘Bye-bye.’) I actually find his semi-autistic callousness more bearable than Steele’s more willful nastiness, since it seems the Undertaker was simply born the way he is, rather than choosing it.
You’ll recognize certain plot points from these books remixed into my book, though I found the Undertaker’s continued lack of character development a bit grating from one book to the next. That’s the price you tend to pay with pulp fiction: since these books are intended to be disposable and so the reader can enjoy whichever one is handy (and so whichever author is currently the ‘house name’ has a free hand), continuity isn’t much of a bother, and everything tends to reset to status quo by the end of a given adventure.
Leaving Piccadilly for the moment, we have the adult western. As if the name of the genre and the name that starts every book title isn’t enough, it’s published by Playboy. And as you might have guessed from there being four hundred of these books, put out damn near monthly since the seventies, it’s a bit of a fool’s errand to single out any one book. They’re somewhere between the formulaic nature of needing to be a Western with literally obligatory sex and violence, and the author being a house name that’ll change with any given volume, who by necessity will have his own idiosyncratic take on the material.
One book, you might get a writer that’s really into delivering the sex appeal promised by the cover. Another time, you’ll get someone who just wants to write a Western (if that: people weren’t writing these things for their health, after all) and will throw in a tryst with a saloon girl just to make his editor happy. But, that variety is part of the charm for me. You can pick up one or several volumes for cheap on Amazon or eBay and take your chances.
While pursuing the cold-blooded killer Rafe Masterson, Slocum narrowly escapes the outlaw’s quick draw with his life. Unfortunately, his trusty horse wasn’t so lucky. Slocum’s steed was just the latest victim to fall afoul of Masterson, who has two notches in his belt representing the two deputies he’s already gunned down. Wanted in several states, Masterson is increasing both his death toll and reward value—and he’s not about to let Slocum bring him in…dead or alive.
You’re largely in the same boat with Longarm as you are with Slocum. The main differences is that Longarm’s name isn’t as good a euphemism (his name isn’t even really Longarm, it’s Custis Long) and that he’s a U.S. Marshall, not an outlaw like Slocum. Sort of like James Bond in the Wild West… wait, that’s James West of Wild Wild West… sort of like James West without the steampunk gadgets. Longarm goes from town to town, bringing bad men to justice and taking bad girls to bed.
Although this series has the dubious distinction of provoking an “I can do better than that” reaction in me. In Longarm on the Border—installment 2, as there are actually two books by that title in this four-hundred-strong and only recently ended series—the main character finds himself in a threesome. Maybe it’s that these are the adult westerns not being published by Playboy, but the writer picks then fade to black, with only some oblique references to the act itself after the fact!
Reader, it was then and there that I decided that if that can pass muster in 1978, surely in 2023 we’re ready for an adult western that can at least compete with Fifty Shades of Gray.
Double-barreled action—the first two Longarms in one volume!
LONGARM
Longarm has a new mission. Ride to Crooked Lance. Pick up Cotton Younger, killer cousin of Jesse James, from the town jail. Bring him to trial. It should be easy. Except for one thing: Deputy Kincaid has already tried it. And Deputy Kincaid is nowhere to be found. Nobody at Crooked Lance wants Longarm to do his job—not the beautiful widow woman, or the Federal Agent, or the James gang—but Longarm never gives up when he has work to do. Even if it kills him…
To quote Wernher von Braun, “research is what I'm doing when I don't know what I'm doing.” In that spirit, I should mention I wasn’t just riffing off yellowed old paperbacks, but doing research into the specific setting and time period of my own book. Although this is a case where the research didn’t necessarily find its way into the first book, but was something I earmarked for a future installment. Nonetheless, The Texas Indians is a good read, giving a comprehensive overview of the Indigenous history of the region and providing many avenues for further research as I write the next book in the series.
During an excavation in the 1950s, archaeologists discovered the bones of a prehistoric woman in Midland County, Texas, and dubbed her "Midland Minnie." Some believed her age to be between twenty thousand and thirty-seven thousand years, making her remains the oldest ever found in the Western Hemisphere. While the accuracy of these dates remains disputed, the find, along with countiess others, demonstrates the wealth of human history that is buried beneath Texas soil. By the time the Europeans arrived in Texas in 1528, Native Texans included the mound-building Caddos of East Texas; the Karankawas and Atakapas who fished the Texas…
I became fascinated with 16th-century and 17th-century Europe after reading Don Quixote many years ago. Since then, every novel or nonfiction book about that era has felt both ancient and contemporary. I’m always struck by how much our environment has changed—transportation, communication, housing, government—but also how little we as people have changed when it comes to ambition, love, grief, and greed. I doubled down my reading on that time period when I researched my novel, Dulcinea. Many people read in the eras of the Renaissance, World War II, or ancient Greece, so I’m hoping to introduce them to the Baroque Age.
Dolça Llull Prat, a wealthy Barcelona woman, is only 15 when she falls in love with an impoverished poet-solder. Theirs is a forbidden relationship, one that overcomes many obstacles until the fledgling writer renders her as the lowly Dulcinea in his bestseller.
By doing so, he unwittingly exposes his muse to gossip. But when Dolça receives his deathbed note asking to see her, she races across Spain with the intention of unburdening herself of an old secret.
On the journey, she encounters bandits, the Inquisition, illness, and the choices she's made. At its heart, Dulcinea is about how we betray the people we love, what happens when we succumb to convention, and why we squander the few chances we get to change our lives.
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