The Future of the Western Genre

For the last couple of decades, enthusiasts have lamented the demise of Westerns. The rest of the world went about their business, ignorant that anyone cared about a genre relegated to a few obscure shelves at the local bookstore. Westerns were hugely popular for over a hundred years. Not only were Westerns popular in the United States, but the whole world devoured them. The Western was a staple of fiction, Hollywood, television, and daydreams. What happened?

Overexposure, for one thing. In 1959, there were twenty-six Western series on prime time television. On the silver screen, John Wayne banished his Winchester at countless bad guys. Paperback Westerns could be found in abundance in any drugstore, most of them with Louis L’Amour’s name on the cover. The big names did some wonderful, quality stuff, but the demand was so great that a lot of trash made it into print and celluloid.

The common perception is that the Western genre is moribund. Yet somehow, Larry McMurtry and Cormac McCarthy made a good living off Westerns. (Their books, however, are seldom stacked up with the straight-to-paperback variety of Westerns.) Robert B. Parker temporarily abandoned private eye Spencer to embrace the western genre for a trilogy about two guns for hire. In film, Appaloosa grossed a respectable $28 million at the box office, while 3:10 to Yuma grossed over $70 million. Productions like Godless, Yellowstone, and Old Henry keep the genre alive. DVD sales of vintage Westerns do well, and Louie L’Amour, Zane Grey, and even Max Brand still sell a respectable number of books.

So, the Western isn’t dead, but it’s just as certainly not the rage, especially for the upcoming generation. Thrillers, fantasies, sci-fi, and romance novels garner all the shelf space. Action movies sound tracks are filled with revving motors, not thundering hoofs. And television … well, television just broadcasts another police drama. In fact, the Western excesses of the late fifties are being repeated today with cop shows. Perhaps tired audiences are ready for a resurgence of Westerns.

Perhaps. But what type of Western? Probably a new breed. There have been three distinct western eras. I called them: wholesome, the flawed hero, and the violent eras.

The wholesome era lasted until the late fifties. It was epitomized by Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Hopalong Cassidy, and a host of other cowboys sporting white hats. Instead of killing bad guys, they shot guns out of their hands. If someone was killed, they damn-well deserved it, and their death would be bloodless, with a pledge-like hand to the chest to cover unsightly bullet holes. As in all eras, there was overlap, and during the later stages of the wholesome phase, Wayne and others made more realistic Westerns—but these, of course, were quarantined to movie houses, and only at night.

The flawed hero of the sixties wasn’t the antihero of today. He merely had faults; like Josh Randall, the bounty hunter portrayed by Steve McQueen in Wanted Dead or Alive or the gambling Maverick brothers who proudly proclaimed themselves cowards. Richard Boone wore black and looked mean as a gun-for-hire in Paladin. The Magnificent Seven were reluctant, saviors of a small Mexican village—and flawed to a man. Again, overlapping eras. The spaghetti Westerns of the late sixties took the genre into new territory.

From the seventies on, the antihero ruled a frontier filled with slow-motion violence. The violent era was ushered in by Sergio Leone with his Man With No Name trilogy (1967) and Sam Peckinpaw with The Wild Bunch (1969). From then on, red dominated the color spectrum and the hero was only a step removed from the bad guy. The raw realism was inappropriate for television until cable brought Deadwood (2004) into our living rooms.

What’s next? Luckily, these eras overlap, so seeing the direction of the Western genre is not guesswork. Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCarthy, and Robert B. Parker pointed the way. The future of the Western genre is historically accurate storytelling. A story can take place in the past, the present, or the future. If the story occurs in the past, we call them historical novels—except for Westerns. They get consigned to a niche genre that still carries the taint of pulp fiction. But a story that takes place in the nineteenth century American frontier has as much legitimacy to be called a historical novel as Ken Follett’s World Without End.

McMurtry, McCarthy, and Parker have found the key. Good writing, sound plots that move with assurance, and great characterization. They concentrated on characters that are forced to deal with hardships and human frailty at a particular point in history. These are the basic elements of good storytelling. A Western historical novel can indeed be action-adventure, but it can also borrow elements from the detective, suspense, romance, mystery, and other genres. Lonesome Dove took from all of them.

The world has tired of cookie-cutter cop shows, superheroes, and endless permutations of suspense tales about secret societies that are about to take over the world. Westerns may very well again rule the page and screen

Blade Runner vs. Blade Runner 2049

Blade Runner 1982

versus

Blade Runner 2049

IMDB users rate Blade Runner 2049 at 8.2 out of 10. Pretty heady rating for IMDB. I’m aware that anyone who preferred the original gets dissed as an ol’ fogey. I fall into the old category, but don’t admit to the fogey part. Nevertheless, I will go on record as preferring the original. (Both films scored 8.2)

My reasons are from a different perspective than most. Admittedly, film is an art form and presentation certainly plays into the craft. From a visual perspective, I might even give Blade Runner 2049 the edge. It paints a dystopia world with deft precision. Where it falls behind the original is the crux of good storytelling. Bad guys gotta be bad.

In the original movie, Rutger Hauer portrayed Roy Batty with relentless malevolence, yet managed, in the end, to elicit compassion for his character. Batty was a worthy rival, who transitions into a sympathetic victim. A fine piece of acting, that.

Luv vs. Roy

On the other hand, Sylvia Hoeks plays Luv like a high school mean girl, and the script resorts to clichés to portray her evilness. For example, when Luv stomps on K's mobile projector to kill Joi, it reminded me of a B-movie where the antagonist kicks a dog to convey dastardliness.

And then when Luv finally dies, we think, oh good, it’s over. When Batty dies, we weep.

I’m prejudice, of course. I believe the art in storytelling requires an antagonist that presents a heavy challenge to the protagonist. Heroes need villains to be heroic. We want the protagonist to win, but he or she keeps losing until just before the curtain falls. The tension comes from uncertainty. Even though we’ve seen story upon story, each time we are transported to another place and time where the villain might actually win. Sometimes, we get a reveal at the end that turns the protagonist’s victory poignant. A neat trick, when done right, and the original Blade Runner pulled this off with panache.

And that’s why I prefer the Blade Runner 1982.

Touchy, Touchy, Touchy

Snobs come in every variety

At Booktrust, Matt Haig started a cross-pond rhubarb with a post belittling literary snobs. Haig's article was less interesting than the responses. Dozens of people who wouldn't think twice about disparaging writers of popular fiction took umbrage that someone might criticize them. To prove elitism is not restricted to the U.K., Andrew E.M. Baumann in Georgia responded to Haig’s post with a 7,446 word diatribe of his own.

Personally, I define a book snob as someone who dismisses a work merely because it's popular. My definition would put Andrew E.M. Baumann in the snob camp because he wrote, “The demonstrated truth is that “popular” equals mediocre, or worse.” Mark Twain, Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Ben Franklin, Owen Wister, and many others would disagree that popular equals mediocre. Raymond Chandler wrote, “It might reasonably be said that all art at some time and in some manner becomes mass entertainment, and that if it does not it dies and is forgotten.” Every book that is popular is not literature, but it’s snobbery to assume that anything popular is unworthy of admiration.

So what qualifies as literature? Again, Chandler’s definition. “When a book, any sort of book, reaches a certain intensity of artistic performance it becomes literature. That intensity may be a matter of style, situation, character, emotional tone, or idea, or half a dozen other things. It may also be a perfection of control over the movement of a story similar to the control a great pitcher has over a ball.” That pretty much does it for me.

If this debate interests you, here are the links to the two referenced postings.

30 things to tell a book snob

"30 things to tell a book snob" -- A Literary Elitist's Response

Wandering the Internet During a Writing Hiatus

When The Return was at the publishers for book design and proofreading, I had a rare opportunity to wander around the internet for no purpose other than entertainment. When writing, my online time is consumed with email, research, fact checking, and social networking. One of my favorite sites is The Atlantic. This online repository has all kinds of interesting archival material.

(In previous posts, I have referenced Atlantic articles written by Raymond Chandler. You can find his “Oscar Night Ramblings” and “Writers in Hollywood” by following this link.)

This morning I ran across this 1947 Coronet Educational Film. Coronet was a division of Esquire, a precursor of Playboy Magazine. This short really makes you think about the cultural changes in the last sixty years.

The perils of being a midlist novelist

The Washington Post has done an article on the perils (and rewards) of being a midlist novelist.  Interesting reading. Mary Doria Russell was dropped by Random House just prior to release of her new book Doc, a novel about the legendary John Henry Holliday. Doc has been on my "to read" list for nearly a year. Now, I think I'll move it to the top of my list.

It’s always been tough for first-time novelists to find a publisher. A dirty little industry secret is that it is much more difficult to get a second book published if the first one flops. Baseball gives you three strikes, after a loss you can run for political office again, a musician can usually get a second gig, but writers get one shot at fame and fortune.

Midlist is a tough place to be. It’s easy to slip into oblivion. Poor sales don’t seem to be the problem with Russell’s books. She seemed well ensconced, with good reviews and a dedicated following.

The traditional publishing industry is in the throes of a massive transformation, and Random House’s actions are indicative of this change. Many have said publishing is going the way of digital music, but I think it is going more in the direction of movies. The big Hollywood studios are in constant search of the next blockbuster, while on the side a thriving indie-film industry nurtures creativity and new talent. I suspect the big publishing houses are turning their backs on back-list and mid-list books. That’s okay. Indie-publishing will fill in the gaps.


Link to WAPO article

Preserving Western culture through photography

Don Schimmel Photography

There are many ways to preserve our Western Culture. I prefer books, of course. I have no visual or musical talents, but I still appreciate Western film, music, and photography. Schimmel has a talent for catching a mood. Take a look at his site through the link above and enjoy some great photographs.

Django Unchained—Quentin Tarantino’s Does Spaghetti Western

I like Tarantino movies and Westerns, so I expected to love Django Unchained.  I only liked it. It wasn’t bad; it just didn’t live up to my expectations.

The Spaghetti Western is a subset of the Western genre, typified by antiheroes, revenge themes, extreme violence, slow scenes, scant dialogue, extreme close-ups, long running times, and heavy scores punctuated by stretches of pure silence. (My favorite is Once Upon a Time in the West.) The Spaghetti Western is a different breed from the traditional Western because all of these characteristics are done to excess.

I knew something was amiss with Django Unchained about two hours into the movie when I wondered how long it would be before the end. Not a good sign, even when three hours is typical for Spaghetti Westerns. The audience is supposed to be transported to another place and time, not squirming in their seats.

Tarantino loves bad movies, especially bad genre movies. He sees art where others see trash. His best works, like Kill Bill for example, blend clichés and corniness from multiple genres into a cornucopia of unexpected delights. Django Unchained seemed too predictable and too narrow. Perhaps Tarantino’s shtick has run its course. I hope not.

Related post: Europe's Infatuation with the American Wild West

Three Icons of the Western Genre

Zane Grey

The three greatest icons of the Western novel are Zane Grey, Max Brand, and Louis L'Amour. Sure, other authors have written multiple Western novels, but these three made their names synonymous with the genre.  (Actually, Max Brand was a pen name.) Together, these three authors wrote nearly 500 Westerns and countless short stories.

Zane Grey published Westerns from 1908 until his death in 1939. Actually, he left such a large stockpile of manuscripts that Harper & Brothers published a novel per year under his name until 1963.

Frederick Faust, aka Max Brand

Max Brand published his first Western in 1919 and continued writing in the genre until his death in 1944. Similar to Zane Grey, publishers continued to bring his work out in new editions. For example, in 2007, Five Star Westerns published Acres of Unrest from a 1926 magazine series.

Louis L'Amour published his first Western in 1951. His last Western published  while he was alive was The Haunted Mesa (1987). Like his genre predecessors, books under his name continued to be published long after his death, many of which were short story collections.

Louis L'Amour

These three may not have been the greatest authors who have ever written about the American frontier, but they were great storytellers. (Okay, my vote would actually go to Mark Twain as the best Western author.) Storytelling has always been a revered art form and has been around since man first exaggerated his hunting prowess. In fact, storytelling might be the real oldest profession. 





In the early days, stories were spoken—handed down generation to generation. Cave dwellers began the notion of illustrated stories with petroglyphs, while during the middle-ages; stained-glass served the same purpose. The novel came to fruition only after widespread literacy and it nurtured its own artistic standards. Have these three authors ever met those artistic standards? I believe the answer is yes, especially in their best work.

The eReader revolution is accelerating

I've been tracking print versus eBook sales for years. In 2008, my print sales were four times my eBook sales. In 2009, three times. By 2010, sales were almost even between the two formats. As you may have guessed, 2011 was the year sales flipped upside down--with a vengeance. In 2011 my Kindle sales alone were three times my print sales. To my surprise, the shift in format continues to accelerate. This month my eBook sales were eight times my print sales.

Is this good or bad? Let me see. I earn a higher royalty on eBooks, I can monitor my sales in near real time, and I'm paid monthly with only a sixty day delay. That's the good side. The bad side is that I've participated in a couple of recent book signings at Barnes and Noble. Both were duds. Book signings used to be fun ... and educational. Now I drive home wondering if they're worthwhile. Probably. I see eBook sales go up after an event. I'm not sure what this tells me except that my signature is not worth six dollars--the difference between the print cost and an eBook version.

There's an old saying in investing: Don't fight the tape. It means don't buck the trend. I'm personally on my fifth Kindle. When I took my first model on an airplane, people would ask what it was. Now, every reading passenger seems to have an eReader. I used to see a book cover I recognized and asked my fellow passenger how they liked it. Now what we read  is a big dark secret. In a way I like it because I imagine they’re all reading one of my books.

It appears the print format for narrative books may go the way of the 8-track. Some will lament the good ‘ol days, but what really counts is that people read. And it certainly appears from my personal sales that the Kindle and like-devices are causing people to read more. Hurrah for that!

Reader's Digest Picks The Best Thrillers of All Time

"What makes a thriller thrilling? Nonstop action, precarious situations, hair-raising suspense, and heroic characters all exemplify the best thrillers on the market." This Reader's Digest post list their editors' choice for best thrillers. I'm providing the link to this list because I was surprised to find that I had read all ten books. (They actually cheated and list more than twenty books.) I'm not sure I would rate them the ten best of all time, but every one of them is pushing hard for the honor.

Take a look. You may find your next book on this list.

 

The Future of the Western Genre

I've posted an article on Ezine about the future of the Western genre.

"For the last couple of decades, enthusiasts have lamented the demise of Westerns while the rest of the world has gone about its business, ignorant that anyone might care about a genre relegated to a few obscure shelves at the local bookstore. Westerns were hugely popular for over a hundred years. Not only were they popular in the United States, but the whole world devoured them. The Western was a staple of fiction, Hollywood, television, and daydreams. What happened?"

Follow this link, to read the full article.