Some would call this an anti-western. It reflects the dark
underside of the 1950s and overturns some of the mythology of the West. It’s
central character is a young man who flees the deadening effects of civilization
as it’s practiced in 1870s Boston and heads out West to find adventure on the
frontier.
William Andrews is 23 years old and wants above all to
experience the wildness of the West, to immerse himself in its freedom. In that
freedom, he expects to find goodness, hope, and vigor. He is a living example
of Emerson’s belief in self-reliance and the wholesomeness of unspoiled nature.
Plot. Arriving in a
settlement called Butcher’s Crossing, in central Kansas, he bankrolls a bison
hunter who claims to know of a hidden herd in the mountains of Colorado. Bison
hides are selling for $4.00, given market demand and the growing scarcity of
the animal. Not only will the hunt be an adventure, it will turn a profit of
thousands of dollars for them.
The trip to Colorado and back, with three experienced
hunters, turns into an unexpected odyssey of many months. The party is headed
by Miller, who is expert with a buffalo gun. He hires an experienced skinner,
Schneider, and persuades the older Charley Hogue to go with them as driver of
their oxen-drawn wagon. Andrews is to help with the skinning.
Bison hide yard, Dodge City, Kansas, 1878 |
It takes weeks to travel across western Kansas and eastern
Colorado. Taking a shortcut across the arid prairie, they run out of water and
nearly die of thirst. All the time, until Miller finds them, there is doubt
that his herd of bison even exists.
But they do exist, in the thousands, surviving summer by
summer in a mountain valley. Finding them, Miller gets right to work, and
before long the hides pile up far beyond the number they can take back in one
trip to Butcher’s Crossing. Over Schneider’s objection, Miller stays on,
intending to wipe out the entire herd.
But he waits too long, and they get snowed in. The final
third of the novel is an account of their fierce struggle to survive the
winter. With the hides, Miller constructs a shelter and “sleeping bags” for
them to keep from freezing to death. They live on game and a carefully rationed
supply of coffee.
When enough snow has melted from the mountain pass leading
out of the valley, they pile the wagon high with hides and head back to Kansas.
That journey is marked by an accident that reverses their fortunes once again.
Yet more bad news awaits their arrival at Butcher’s Crossing.
Dead bison in snow, 1872 |
History vs. myth. The
killing off of the bison herds is an accepted fact of western history, but
seldom if ever has it been the subject of a novel. Williams describes grimly
but matter-of-factly the systematic conversion of thousands of living animals
to skinned carcasses. Somehow, none of the men regards what they are doing as
the extermination of a species.
Meanwhile, the relentless killing and skinning has an effect
on them more deadening than the worst to be had in tired old civilized Boston.
Andrews is first physically repulsed as he butchers one of the animals. He
desperately washes the blood from himself and his clothes in an ice-cold
mountain stream. Then he gradually succumbs to the machine-like process of
slaughter.
He half realizes that instead of the thrilling excitement of
living wild and free, he is being numbed by death and bloodshed. The irony is
that the myth itself does not die for him. By novel’s end, he heads off again
westward, with no destination in mind, but only a belief that he will
eventually find what he is looking for.
Prostitute, 1912 |
Romance. The novel
also has something to say about the way the myth of the West affects
male-female relations. Emersonian self-reliance evolves into a kind of rootless
self-indulgence. We see this portrayed in the way a young prostitute, Francine,
figures into Andrews’ story.
Before leaving on the hunt, Andrews regards her with
tenderness and pity. She offers herself to him with honest affection, but he
flees from her, not ready in his innocence to yield to carnality. Returning, he
finds her again and surrenders to desire. But after several days and nights
with her, he awakens to what he has always been—a man on a quest and thus a
drifter.
Though Francine has clearly become attached to him, and his
leaving will break her heart, he sneaks off in the dawn light without saying
goodbye. Instead, he leaves some money for her. No longer someone loved, she’s
again reduced by him to a prostitute. And so he sheds any connection to her.
Wrapping up. This is
a cold though illuminating novel. Readers will discover maybe more than they
wanted to know about the hunting frenzy on the Great Plains that nearly wiped
out the bison. Much of the novel is told at a slow pace, replicating the length
of time and energy needed to cross long distances on the frontier.
The tone of the narration is deliberately flat and
unmodulated. There’s not a moment of lightness or humor. With Andrews as the
point of view character, we do not get inside the other men who spend most of
the novel with him. Miller is especially opaque. It’s impossible to know what
he’s thinking or feeling. His obsession with killing is simply that, an
obsession.
John Williams |
As a leader of men, he is undaunted by either untoward
circumstances or Schneider’s challenges to his authority. We can be amazed and
grateful for his numerous and competent survival skills, but there’s no knowing
how he came into possession of them.
The final destructive act which he stages in Butcher’s Crossing like a
scene from a Wild West Show is unexplained.
John Williams (1922-1994) was born and grew up in northeast
Texas. He published three novels and won a National Book Award for one of them,
Augustus (1972). Butcher’s
Crossing is currently available at amazon,
Barnes&Noble, and AbeBooks, and for kindle and the nook.
Photo credits:
Wikimedia Commons
Author's photo, The University of Denver
Coming up: Brian Keith, Maureen O'Hara, The Deadly Companions (1961)
Ron,
ReplyDeleteAn anti-western here and there is probably a good thing, don't you think? It is a way of countering the excessive romanticizing that is sometimes found in western novels.
Your very good review reminded me of two novels that seem to share some characteristics of "Butcher's Crossing": "The Last Hunt" by Milton Lott and "Slaughter" by Elmer Kelton.
I haven't seen it in years, but I remember that a pretty good movie based on Lott's novel was made in the 50s, starring Robert Taylor and Stewart Granger.
I have put "Butcher's Crossing" on my to-be-read list.
Stormy
I don't know Kelton's novel, but I'm guessing he does well with the material.
DeleteThis looks very good. I always like to see myths from a second view.
ReplyDeleteThis one kind of shoves your face right into some ugly history.
DeleteThis one sounds good, a little grit to it. History v. Myth always makes for good reading. A few years ago I drove across central and western Kansas in July-over 100 degrees all the way. That area can be very tough on people who are not ready for it.
ReplyDeleteLiving in that kind of climate, I cannot believe people actually survived without air conditioning. I would perish.
DeleteWilliams wrote four novels and two books of poetry. Of the novels, three- Stoner, Butcher's Crossing and Augustus- are masterpieces.
ReplyDeleteI haven't read the first- Nothing but the Night- but even if it's juvenilia, Williams's juvenilia would be well worth reading.
I've read comments about STONER that make it sound worth reading. It seems somewhat autobiographical, and having had a similar experience as an academic, I'd expect to feel some sympathy for his protagonist.
Delete