”’I don’t have to tell you what this land used to look ,’ he said. ‘And you don’t have to tell me that I am the one who ruined it. Which I did, with my own hands, and ruined forever. You’re old enough to remember when the grass between here and Canada was balls high to a Belgian, and yes it is possible that in a thousand years it will go back to what it once was, though it seems unly. But that is the story of the human race. Soil to sand, fertile to barren, fruit to thorns. It is all we know how to do.’”



The making of the West, or in my opinion the unmaking of the West, can best be described with the word eradication. Numerous species of animals, but most noticeably the wholesale slaughter of the massive buffalo herds, are part of the agenda to clear the way for further exploitation. The Indians are pesky and do not go gentle into that good night, but eventually they too are decimated by bullets and disease to the point that the last few Indians, survivors from a post-apocalyptic event, are herded onto reservations by these alien white devil invaders where, if they are lucky, they can manage to drink themselves to death before they starve. The grass is eaten down by cattle to the point that it will never be as majestic as when the Spanish conquistador Coronado made his way across the prairie. Sodbusters come in after most of the blood has been spilled, to till up the soil, which eventually leads to the Dust Bowl in the Dirty Thirties.

Hubris, lots of hubris.

The story of the West is not an uplifting experience. Sure, there are great stories about survival against the elements, or the bear BAR attack that Hugh Glass was too stubborn to let kill him, or the story of men who stand up to those who are taking advantage of those weaker than themselves. It is about beating the odds with some combination in equal measure of skill and luck.

We can romanticize the making of the West and ignore the sordid details, or even turn those rather bloody details into something more akin to a crusade to free the land from the infidels. It depends on a personÂ’s capability of concocting elaborate, but well edited, fantasies, not that there arenÂ’t things to admire in these people who put their lives on the line to find a better life for themselves and those who will come after them.

The center of this universe is Eli McCullough and his descendents. They are doomed to live in his shadow. His life is not easy; in fact, it starts out so dire that IÂ’d have laid good odds this was one man who was not going to live long enough to make any impact on history.

IÂ’d have been wrong.

Eli watches his mother and sister be raped and butchered by Comanches. He watches his brother die by clubbing. He is spared because he is young enough to be integrated into the tribe and is adopted by Toshaway. ”“But the whites do not think this way-- they prefer to forget that everything they want already belongs to someone else. They think, “Oh I am white, this must be mine.” And they believe it, Tiehteti. I have never seen a white person who did not look surprised when you killed them.’ He shrugged. ’Me, when I steal something, I expect the person to try to kill me, and I know the song I will sing when I die.’”



Now, what is interesting is, as Eli gets older, we hear him paraphrasing Toshaway’s philosophy to justify is his own actions. ”The Garcias got the land, by cleaning off the Indians, and that is how we had to get it. And one day that is how someone will get it from us. Which I encourage you not to forget.” He is fully aware of how temporary his hold is on anything he owns and knows that no one owns anything that they didn’t in some form or fashion take from someone else. I’d go into how those rich people that Americans seem to venerate so much became rich, but I think we all know that story, and it dovetails perfectly with Eli’s philosophy about ownership.

Toshaway calls Eli Tiehteti, which is his Indian name meaning pathetic little white man. What is interesting is the Comanches may have their names changed many times in their lifetime to better fit who they have become. There is a woman who becomes Hates to Work. A captive German girl is called Yellow Hair Between the Legs. My favorite though is the poor bastard who is called Cock That Stays Hard. If they were labeled with a name they didnÂ’t , they would just have to work diligently to become known for something more distinguished.

The book spans seven generations, but there are three main characters who we spend the most time with: Eli McCullough, his son Peter, and Eli’s great-granddaughter Jeanne Anne. Peter is the most affected by living in the shadow of his now iconic and famous father. He is a more sensitive soul who wants to live a more principled life than the one carved out by his father. ”I went upstairs to my office, lay in the dark among my books--the only comforting thing I have. An exile in my own house, my own family, maybe in my own country.” He says country, but what he really means is Texas with a larger than just capital T. His isolation increases as his sons identify more with Eli and embrace his no holds barred approach to holding onto and acquiring everything one can. Peter falls in love with a woman with the wrong last name...Garcia, which brings him into more conflict with his father.

Jeanne Anne ends up owning the bulk of the estate. McCullough men keep dying in wars, misadventure, and some just wander off to make their own way in the world. It isn’t easy being a woman in a man’s world. Peter, she feels her isolation keenly. ”People made no sense to her. Men, with whom she had everything in common, did not want her around. Women, with whom she had nothing in common, smiled too much, laughed too loud, and mostly reminded her of small dogs, their lives lost in interior decorating and other people's’ outfits. There has never been a place for a person her.”

There are so many astute quotes. The book is frankly a quote machine. One of my favorites is when Eli makes the observation that his employees have become caricatures of themselves. The frontier had not yet settled when Buffalo Bill began his shows and the Colonel always complained about the moment his cowboys began to read novels about other cowboys; they had lost track of which was more true, the books or their own lives.”



This is an epic about monumental pioneers who are revealed to us by the deft pen of Philipp Meyer as real people with faults and goodness in equal measure. I think it is interesting how little these people from each generation really know about each other. Strengths are seen as weaknesses, and weaknesses are perceived as strengths. It makes me think about how little I really know about my father, my grandmother or any of my relatives. What do my kids really know about me?

Tonight, April 8th, 2017, AMC is debuting the series based on this book. I plan on watching it and will be ”packing my gun loose.” Here is the trailer: The Son on AMC

”I content myself to think that one day we will all be nothing but marks in stone. Iron stains of blood, black of our carbon, a hardening clay.”

Our ownership of anything is temporary. Our riches, in the scope of history, are almost made irrelevant soon after amassing them. As Jeanne says regarding heaven: “Trump, Walton, Gates, herself; they would be no more interesting than the garbagemen.” Frankly, I find them terminally boring now.

A balanced, real view of the West that I highly recommend.

If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie , visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeetenthe-old-west284 s Will Byrnes1,325 121k

HOW THE WEST SOUTHWEST WAS WON OVERRUN On the ranch they had found points from both the Clovis and the Folsom. For the eight thousand years between Folsom and the Spanish, no one knew what happened; there had been people here the whole time, but no one knew what they were called. Though right before the Spanish came there were the Mogollan and when the Spanish came there were the Suma, Jumano, Manso, La Junta, Concho and Chisos and Toboso, Ocana and Cacaxtle, the Coahuiltecans, ComecrudoÂ…but whether they had wiped out the Mogollon or were descended from them, no one knew. They were all wiped out by the Apache. Who were in turn wiped out, in Texas anyway, by the Comanche. Who were in turn wiped out by the Americans.

A man, a life—it was barely worth mentioning. The Visigoths had destroyed the Romans, and themselves been destroyed by the Muslims. Who were destroyed by the Spanish and Portuguese. You did not need Hitler to see that it was not a pleasant story. And yet here she was. Breathing, having these thoughts. The blood that ran through history would fill every river and ocean, but despite all the butchery, here you were. The Son is a magnificent family saga, covering two hundred years of Texan, but more significantly American history. Do not be fooled into thinking this is just a book about the Longhorn state. In the same way that Billy Lynn's Long Half-Time Walk (also set in Texas) took a specific day to stand for an entire period, The Son takes a much larger swath but remains a stand-in for the nation as a whole. A ranching and oil dynasty rises in parallel with the USA rising as a global power.

Items covered include the settlement of Texas by Americans, Indian Wars (sometimes from the perspective of the Indians), The Civil War, WW I, WW II, the Depression. Economic shifts, rise of oil in international importance, significance of corruption in government, impact of increasing difficulty of drilling in the USA and rise of the Middle East as the worldÂ’s major source of oil, including some economic intrigue involving the use of insider information. The misuse of the land is raised, as is the complicated relationships between residents of Mexico, Texas, and some who traveled both sides of the border.

Meyer splits the task of looking at different times in American history among three members of the McCullough dynasty. Eli McCullough is the patriarch of this clan, born not on the Fourth of July, but on the Second of March, 1836, otherwise known as Texas Independence Day. He is, literally, the first Texan. (Well, as with the US Declaration of Independence, it was not completely OkÂ’d until the next day, but whoÂ’s counting?) and is as large a character as the state itself. We meet him when he is 100 years old, in 1936, looking back on his life and times, (a la Jack Crabb in Thomas BergerÂ’s Little Big Man) and some bloody times they were. Early settlers into what was still Mexico overwhelming the locals with numbers and guns. Bloodshed aplenty as a new population displaces current residents, whether Mexican citizens or one of the many Indian tribes in the area. Eli is captured by a Comanche raiding party that kills and abuses most of his family. Later he becomes a Texas Ranger, as a substitute for criminal prosecution, making the Rangers remind one of the French Foreign Legion.

The second perspective is that of Jeanne Anne McCullough, EliÂ’s great-granddaughter. We meet her at age 86, injured, on the floor of her home in 2012, and are treated to her recollections as well. She is the primary female character here, a crusty old bird who is also shown in softer light earlier in her life. But while softer, Jeanne was still tough even as a kid, eager to cowgirl up, take on tasks usually reserved for men, and was unable and unwilling to adapt to the very different expectations of northeastern refinery. Adaptation, and recognizing change, seeing the truth in front of her, or not, figures in her journey. She will use ill-gotten knowledge for personal gain some day.

Finally there is Peter, born in 1870, one of EliÂ’s sons, and JeanneÂ’s grandfather. Peter is the superego to EliÂ’s id. He struggles with what he sees as excessive violence in which his father revels, and tries as best he can to act in a moral way. I found PeterÂ’s character to be the most real of the three. Constantly having to manage moral as well as physical conflict. He is the romantic of the crew. You will love him.

We see all three come of age in very different ways. Eli is taken captive by raiding Comanches as a thirteen-year-old but over an extended period, relying on his courage and quick wits, he learns the rules and the ways of the tribe, coming to see many things from their perspective, and becomes a respected leader. We get to see him again, struggling to adapt to white society while still a teen. We see Jeanne wanting to be who she is but struggling against the bias of the age that preferred its women less hardy, adventurous and determined. We see Peter struggling to reconcile his family and community responsibilities as a young man with the cruelty of his father and the racist townspeople determined to drive out the other, who happen to be people he knows, respects and even loves.

There is enough carnage in The Son to make fans of Cormac McCarthy lock and load. One particularly brutal event is nothing less than anti-Mexican pogrom. And there is enough political inspection to make fans of Steinbeck perk up when Eli says things : let the records show that the better classes, the Austins and Houstons, were all content to remain citizens of Mexico so long as they could keep their land. Their descendants have waged wars of propaganda to clear their names and have them declared Founders of Texas. In truth it was only the men my father, who had nothing, who pushed Texas into war.Meyer also notes several instances in which the victors write history that is distinctly at variance with how events actually occurred.

There is a lot in here about how change sweeps in and the present is always in the path of a rampaging future, whether one is talking about wilderness being replaced by farming and ranching, working the land being replaced by digging through it, or one population displacing another. Meyer highlights a major theme of the book when the last Comanche chief is found to be carrying a copy of History of the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire.

Meyer takes on some regional stereotypes as well. There is a myth about the West, that it was founded and ruled by loners, while the truth is just the opposite; the loner is a mental weakling, and was seen as such, and was treated with suspicion. You did not live long without someone watching your back and there were very few people, white or Indian, who did not see a stranger in the night and invite them to join a campfire. The Teggs-us Rangers of the mid 18th-century would seem to have had a lot more in common with The Dirty Dozen than they might have had with Seal Team Six. It is also clear that there has been little change in the fact that governments often want services but are not always eager to actually pay for them. The corruption of those in power seems constant across the time-scape here.

Wandering notions. We are always on the lookout for possible connections to the classics. There are some here but they do not seem central. The Eli of the bible lives to 98 and has a son named Phineas. This one lives to 100 and also has a son named Phineas. One might see in the Comanche raids here a link to the Philistine raids of the earlier time. Also Eli was cursed by God that his male descendants would not see old age. This is not entirely the case here, but the death rate is alarmingly high for this EliÂ’s progeny through the generations. There is a Ulysses in this story, who, his namesake, goes on a quest. And Eli is referred to in this way as well, in PeterÂ’s diaries: I began to think how often he was home during my childhood (never), my mother making excuses for him. Did she forgive him that day, at the very end. I do not. She was always reading to us, trying to distract us; she gave us very little time to get bored, or to notice he was gone. Some childrenÂ’s version of the Odyssey, my father being Odysseus. Him versus the Cyclops, the Lotus Eaters, the Sirens, Everett, being much older, off reading by himself. Later I found his journals, detailed drawings of brown-skinned girls without dressesÂ….My assumption, as my mother told us that my father was Odysseus, was that I was TelemachusÂ…now it seems more ly I will turn out a Telegonus or some other lost child whose deeds were never recorded. And of course there are other flaws in the story as well.But ultimately, I do not think there is a core classical reflection at work here, just a bit of condiment for the large meal at hand. In an interview with the LA Times, Meyer cites among influences Steinbeck, Joyce, Woolf and Scottish writer James Kelman. I am sure those with a greater familiarity with works by those authors will find many connections in The Son that my limited knowledge prevented me from seeing.

The Son is MeyerÂ’s second novel, well, second published novel anyway. He wrote a couple before American Rust was published in 2009. He wrote that while in an MFA program in Austin. He has it in mind that this book, which was initially called American Son would form the second volume of a trilogy. It is even more impressive when one considers that Meyer was born in Baltimore, in a neighborhood known more for John Waters films than Indian wars and oil booms.

Family sagas can be fun reads, long, engaging and hopefully educational. They can, of course, be over-long, post too many characters to keep track of and become tedious. Sometimes, though, they exceed all expectations and levitate above the crowd in the genre due to the craft of their creation, the quality of their characters, and the depth of their historical portraits. Some, Gabriel Garcia MarquezÂ’s One Hundred Years of Solitude, Margaret MitchellÂ’s Gone with the Wind, and Pearl S. BuckÂ’s The Good Earth rise to the level of literature. The Son also rises.

The trade paperback edition came out on January 28, 2014

TV mini-series - April 9. 2017

================================EXTRA STUFF

5/21/13 - Rave review from Ron Charles of the Washington Post

AuthorÂ’s page

Wiki

2010 LA Times interview with Meyer

5/29/13
Meyer was interviewed yesterday on the WNYC Leonard Lopate program - definitely worth a listen

6/20/13 - Janet Maslin's NYTimes review, The Glory and Brutality of a Purebred Texan Clan

12/16/13 - The Son was named one of the best fiction books of 2013 by Kirkus

4/14/14 - The Son was one of three finalists for the Pulitzerbooks-of-the-year-2013 fiction268 s Nick172 51

I'm really dumbfounded what happened here. A cursory glance at this and I'd expect this to rank high on an all time list: it's a huge sweeping multigenerational epic, covering huge swaths of American history; it's a postmodern tale of the American West replete with blood lust, scalp-hungry marauding Indians, vigilante ranchers, and oil barons. It's socially and politically subversive, in that it both challenges how frontiersmen confronted race and privilege as well as exposing America's less than honorable methods of procuring land and fulfilling Manifest Destiny.
So much potential. While the bones of the story kept me reading, the writing felt hackneyed, lacking elegance, lacking rhythm, and lacking a distinct voice. The whole of the novel 'told' the reader the story rather than 'showing'. In my experience, novelists that tackle the American West should have the requisite rhythm to mirror the subject. And perhaps that is expecting a bit much, but the lack thereof made reading this almost a chore. And while it was clear Meyer did his research, not all of said research was completely seamlessly integrated. I say that because I noticed he did his research, rather than it simply buoying the story. 167 s Matt963 29.1k

“A man, a life, it was barely worth mentioning. The Visigoths had destroyed the Romans, and themselves been destroyed by the Muslims. Who were destroyed by the Spanish and the Portuguese…[I]t was not a pleasant story. And yet here she was breathing, having these thoughts. The blood that ran through history would fill every river and ocean, but despite all the butchery, here you were…”
- Phillip Meyer, The Son

ThereÂ’s no way IÂ’m going to call this the great American novel. I would have to define what that meant, and IÂ’d have to support it, and then IÂ’d have to argue with everyone trying to convince me of Moby DickÂ’s essential worth. No, weÂ’ll leave that to the English majors of the world.

Even if there is such a thing as the great American novel, Philipp MeyerÂ’s The Son would not grab that ring. That requires the test of time.

It is, however, an instant classic. More specifically, it is a great American novel. Stress the American. Its themes and tropes are quintessentially American: part captivity narrative; part conqueror’s arc; part rags-to-riches. The main characters – the scion of the McCullough dynasty and his heirs – embody the American character, both mythological and real: courageous, self-reliant, industrious, violent, moralizing, hypocritical, and endlessly rationalizing.

ItÂ’s the story of how America came to be, as well as the story of how Americans came to see ourselves.

Also, itÂ’s beautifully written and gloriously fun to read. Things that are also important in a classic. Or so I tried to convince my English teachers, to no avail.

The Son chiefly follows three members of the McCullough family: Eli McCullough, a famed Texas Ranger turned rancher turned oil man; his son, Peter, who struggles in his fatherÂ’s violent shadow; and Jeannie, EliÂ’s great-granddaughter, who shares many traits with Eli despite a different gender and time-period.

The stories of each of these characters is told in chapters devoted solely to them. The individual chapters unfold chronologically, following their own arc, but the timeline as a whole twines in and out. That is, EliÂ’s chapters, which run from the 1830s to the 1860s, are interspersed with PeterÂ’s chapters, which mostly takes place in 1917, and JeannieÂ’s, which ranges from 1926 to the 1980s. (There is overlap, of course, such as when Eli shows up in Peter's chapters. But even when that happens, it is peripheral, since the chapters stick close to their chosen character).

Each of these character-chapters are told in a different style. EliÂ’s story is told in the first-person, from the point-of-view of an aged Eli giving a recording for the WPA. PeterÂ’s tale unfolds as a series of diary entries. JeannieÂ’s chapters are presented in the third-person limited perspective; when we first meet her, she is an old woman who has fallen on the floor and canÂ’t get up. As she lays there, she looks back on the momentous events of her life.

(The conceit for EliÂ’s and PeterÂ’s stories are kind of ridiculous. I doubt that Eli, a staunch opponent of Franklin Roosevelt, would have deigned to participate in a program that was one of the centerpieces of the New Deal. Even if he had, he wouldnÂ’t have gone into the murderous detail that he does. The same with Peter and his diary. Does anyone write long pages of dialogue in their diaries? No, of course not. Still, this novel is so good that I forgive itÂ’s somewhat silly storytelling mechanisms).

Of the three separate plotlines, EliÂ’s is the most vivid and gripping. It begins in 1849, on the eve of a sudden Comanche raid on his familyÂ’s homestead. The lead-up to the massacre is as tense and unforgettable as anything in The Searchers. The massacre itself is a terrifying explosion of violence that is masterfully effective in mixing the graphic with the discreet:

[M]ost of the Indians were standing looking at something on the ground. There was a white leg crooked in the air and a manÂ’s bare ass and buckskin leggings on top. I realized it was my mother and by the way the man was moving and the bells on his legs were jingling I knew what he was doing to her. After awhile he stood up and retied his breechcloth. Another jumped right into place. I had just gotten to my feet when my ears started ringing and the ground came up and I thought I was dead for certainÂ…A while later I heard noises again. I could see the second group of Indians a little farther down the fence but now I could hear my sisterÂ’s voice whimpering. The Indians were doing the same to her as my motherÂ…

Young Eli is taken captive by the Comanche. Eventually, he is adopted into the tribe, taking quickly to their way of life. Slowly, the Comanche, who first appear as shadows and demons during their midnight raid, are revealed as people. EliÂ’s adoptive father, Toshaway, is far more important to Eli than his biological father ever was.

EliÂ’s time with the Comanche is this novelÂ’s great achievement. The research that went into the evocation of their vanished way of life is amazing (I wish Meyer had included a bibliography, or at least a mention of the books he used).

Just as great an accomplishment are his Comanche characters. In a book that doesnÂ’t have a lot of space to devote to secondary characters, Toshaway, Nuukaru, and Escute make lasting impressions. Their profane dialogue, studded with f-words and detailed sexual banter, sounds a bit anachronistic. But it also sounds the way friends talk amongst themselves. Instead of Indian characters who are either inhuman savages or noble gamekeepers (the Dances With Wolves dichotomy), speaking with a stilted, passive-voiced oratorical style, you get Indian characters who are simply human.

(It bears repeating: I absolutely loved every part of EliÂ’s interactions with Toshaway, Nuukaru, and Escute. It is impressive writing. More than that, it is refreshing, especially given the treatment of the Comanche in even modern histories. For example, S.C. Gwynn, in Empire of the Summer Moon, describes them in near-barbarous terms, conjuring an image of Stone-Age cave-dwellers with only lower-order functioning).

Everything about EliÂ’s early story is essential, dealing as it does with the thin line between life and death. Against this fundamental drama, the Peter and Jeannie chapters necessarily suffer by comparison.

Of the two, I enjoyed JeannieÂ’s storyline the best. It took awhile for me to become invested, but Meyer ultimately provides her with two or three or four beautiful vignettes that efficiently and effectively describe the course of her life. Especially memorable is JeannieÂ’s short-lived time at an Eastern prep school. There, a Texas ranch girl among preppy bluebloods, Jeannie undergoes a less violent, mirror-twinned version of her great-grandfatherÂ’s captivity.

PeterÂ’s story worked the least. The reason, I suppose, is that Peter is saddled with the weight of being the moral compass of the McCullough family. This makes him a good guy but also a wet blanket. His chapters take place during a time of high tension on the Tex-Mex border, when America almost went to war with Mexico. He is witness to a brutal confrontation between his family and a neighboring ranch owned by a man named Pedro Garcia. The climax to this neighborly squabble ultimately defines the brooding, philosophical-minded Peter.

About half-way through The Son, I began to wonder if Meyer hadnÂ’t shot his bolt early on. EliÂ’s opening act, the massacre of his family, his captivity, his transformation into the Comanche warrior Tiehteti, are so vital and breathless, that they couldnÂ’t possibly be sustained. However, despite a drop in dramatic urgency, the novel itself never falters. The three interweaving plot threads all inform each other: in one chapter, a character is alive and young; in the next, he or she might be old or a ghost, but still resonating. There is an incredible cumulative effect created by MeyerÂ’s framework.

The Son weighs in at around 550 pages. Not short, but certainly not terribly long, either. Especially not for a canvas this large. Meyer’s creations could easily have expanded into a book the size of War and Peace (and I would have gladly read every page). Despite the relative brevity, the unfilled spaces in the lives of these characters, The Son achieves almost perfect balance. I thought about these fictional people long after I finished the novel. It’s ending – especially the last lines – are haunting.

There are so many comparisons to be made to other great works. If I were being pithy, I could say that The Son has a bit of the stark violence of Blood Meridian or In the Rogue Blood; the elegiacal tinge of Lonesome Dove; and a splash of Dallas as viewed through the prism of the Hatfield and the McCoyÂ’s.

Really, though, itÂ’s a damn fine American novel telling a thoroughly American story.

IÂ’ve read The Son several times since first cracking the cover, and in time, I think I might have to change the opening lines of this review. In time, this might be the great American novel.

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?????????, ???? ????????? ??? ??????????? ??? ??? 600 ??????? ??? ????????? ?? ??????? ????????????, ?????????? ? ???????? ??????? ?????????? ??? ?? ???????? ?? ?????.


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