Riders to Cibola

by Norman Zollinger

Searching for a link to his past, orphan Ignacio Ortiz struggles for survival during both world wars and the beginning of the modern West while fighting his personal feelings about the MacAndrews family that employs him. Reprint.

Genres: Westerns, Historical Fiction, Fiction

320 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 1977

About the author

Albert Norman Zollinger was an award winning Albuquerque novelist whom fellow author Tony Hillerman called a "Renaissance Man.". To quote Hillermann: "He was a guy that, if you quoted Shakespeare for him, he could give you the whole play, and if you mentioned a poet, he could recite two or three of his poems. He was the most intelligent man I've ever known. Norman Zollinger always had a few kind words for me: "God damn it, when are you gonna start writing again?" He was a man who knew one big thing: if you're a writer, you should write. Nothing else matters. "Unlike some of the rest of us, Norman Zollinger lived this truth. That's a hell of a good thing to be able to say of a man." Hillerman also called his long time friend a "warm-hearted man" who was interested in everybody: "Zollinger liked people and he loved helping "wannabe writers" more than anybody else".

Norman Zollinger was born in Chicago, where his father had built up a plastics business. As a young man he joined the US Air Force, and was an air force pilot in WW II, flying 51 missions as a bombardier on a B-24 in Europe. After the war Zollinger joined his father's Chicago business, and within a year he was running the company, which engineered plastic components for the telecommunications industry.

Zollinger started writing his first novel in 1969, and in 1970 he decided to leave his high paying executive job and move his family to Albuquerque. He had become enamored with New Mexico while he was stationed at Roswell AFB during World War II. He decided to follow his writing dream and opened a bookstore, the "Little Professor Book Center" in Albuquerque. His first book, "Riders to Cibola" was published in 1979.

Zollinger's most recent novel was "Meridian" published in 1997, and contract negotiations were under way for his latest book, "Coyote". His other works included "Corey Lane", "Passage to Quivira", "Lantrec" and "Rage in Chupadera". Two of these books, "Riders" and "Rage" won the Western Writers of America Golden Spur Award.

For seven years, he taught at the Norman Zollinger Taos School of Writing during the summer, as well as teaching a course at the University of New Mexico Honors Program that he and Hillerman had started. Zollinger also offered creative writing workshops for service veterans who were physically challenged, in conjunction with the organization "Very Special Arts New Mexico" and the Veterans Administration. He received the Owen Wister Award for lifetime achievement from the Western Writers of America in 1998. For him, he said, "It may not be the Pulitzer or some of those other awards, but it's the highest honor for a man in Western letters."

Norman Zollinger died in Albuquerque on the 5th of March 1999.

Reviews

[Jeffrey Keeten · Rating 5 out of 5]

”He would sit in the shack at night, alone but seldom lonely, while the kerosene lamp’s yellow light washed over the pages of his books. He must, he thought, smiling, look marvelously like those old alchemists in their haunted cells. Well, at least no one was there to see him struggling to turn the base metal of his ignorance into gold.”

Ignacio Ortiz follows the cattle trails north from Old Mexico into New Mexico. He lands on the sun bleached porch of Douglas MacAndrews, the owner of the D Cross A Ranch, located in the Ojos Negros Basin. Ignacio is an orphan, and like many people who have had so much taken away from them, he is a hard worker. He becomes close friends with Jamie, the young heir, who will someday be running the D Cross A. Ignacio becomes as much a member of the MacAndrews family as one can be without sharing blood. Douglas’s wife, Agnes, teaches him to read and allows him to borrow books from their impressive library.

”He almost gasped aloud. Here was something Ignacio Ortiz had never seen before in his life. From right to left across the room, from the floor to the ceiling with its great wooden beams, the wall was filled with books. Books of every size and shape, bound in a hundred different ways, stood in soldiering ranks, leaned against each other carelessly, or rested on their sides in staggered piles.”

There are people who read books, and then there are people who define their lives by the books they have read and by the books they will read. Their relationship with books is not one of gleaning information and then discarding. It is a friendship that is more akin to, if it were possible, putting an arm around the book and whispering to it, giggling and chuckling with shared knowledge, shared experiences. When you see someone grasp a book to their breast and close their eyes or hold the book to their nose and inhale the scent of the book, they are gently mad, but also they are not just a reader of books, but a lover of books.

Ignacio Ortiz is a lover of books. Whatever cultural divide might have existed between me and Ignacio Ortiz would evaporate once we discovered how important books are to each of us. It would bind our friendship much closer than a shared religion, shared genetics, or even growing up in the same neighborhood. The next passage is one that I really identified with as well, as Ignacio is cajoled into travelling around New Mexico:”These were only day trips, but they opened the vaquero’s eyes to how little he knew of the state he lived in, aside from the brooding Ojos Negros. He had a greater intimacy by far with Elsinore and Bosworth Field than with the ruins of Gran Quivira or the timbered archways of the highest Mescalero.”

I’ve been to the forum in Rome one time, but I’ve strode it’s hallways and alleyways numerous times in the pages of books. I’ve never been to Sweden, but I’ve travelled its roads and eaten in its restaurants from my favorite reading chair. Ignacio embraces the world with his reading, but outside of the pages of books, he is forced to relinquish his identification as a citizen of the world and become a...Mexican. He enjoys the easy companionship of his Hispanic friends when he goes to the south side of town to hang out in the Florida bar, but he never feels as close to them as he does to the people he meets in books. His friend Jamie, who insists on calling him Nash, somehow always makes him remember that he is not really a MacAndrews. Ignacio is not black or white or brown when he is lost in the pages of a book. In real life, he feels as if he is divided into many people. The one he likes the least is the one that he was saddled with at birth.

The book is not long, only about 255 pages, but somehow it feels so dense, so epic, as if it were 800 pages. It spans many decades, encompasses two world wars and several generations. It is about loyalty, about love and betrayal, and about loss and triumph. There is racism as Ignacio deals with the ramifications of loving a white woman. There is Jamie’s recklessness that costs one young Mexican girl nearly everything and also contributes to his own ongoing struggles to be his father’s son. Jamie sees the ranch as a means to make money, but never sees it with the proper reverence, for its rugged beauty and its natural compelling allure. Jamie’s son, Ian, sees the ranch the way it should be seen, but conflicts with his father drive him away. Ignacio knows the ranch must survive Jamie so that Ian can revive it.

Ignacio couldn’t be prouder of Ian than if he were his own son. He finally gets to see the paintings that Ian, the artist, has been working on, and the effect on Ignatio’s soul is dramatic. ”They were not pretty pictures. The painter, in his passionate honesty, had no illusions about this land, and would foster none. They were savage, but with a fearsome, anguished beauty almost more than the eye could stand---and more than the heart could bear. Ignacio choked back a sob.”

That sob says it all.

I’ve been in that position a few times myself, not with the emotional investment with an artist like Ignacio was here, but with seeing a painting and feeling a spiritual connection. It is so important to see art in the paint, just as it is important to see your mistress in the flesh. A picture of a piece of art in a book may be the only way I can see a work of art, but it pales in comparison to actually seeing the brushstrokes and being able to look at the painting at the proper distance and at the proper angle to achieve that moment when the artist reaches into your chest and holds your heart...still...for a moment.

I’ve seen this book show up on a lot of Best Western Books of all time lists. I can’t believe I didn’t read it when I spent ten years living in Arizona. I was inhaling books so recklessly then that I am mystified that I never picked up a copy of a Norman Zollinger book. It won’t be my last Zollinger. I’m already curious to see if this is his opus or did some of the magic that guided his pen during the writing of Riders to Cibola carry over to his other novels.

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[Chrisl · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Riders" is among my all-time favorite "Western" novels, along with works by Douglas Jones, Elmer Kelton, and Jack Schaefer. This HF-USA is set mostly in the Tularosa Basin of New Mexico.

Here be a great review of the book:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

In an introduction, Tony Hillerman wrote " ... premier novel of realism ... harsh and beautiful landscape ... There is honor in this novel, and courage, and endurance, as well as love ... a classic of our literature."

Introduction starts ... "Seen from the air by one unfamiliar with high desert landscapes -- as Norman Zollinger was the first time he saw it -- the Tularosa Basin must look surrealistic. Geologists call it a rift -- a place where the earth's crust sank thousands of feet, forcing mountains upward on both sides. Now, eons later, erosion has smoothed the mountains, partially filling the basin, and volcanic action has produced new mountain ranges inside the rift. Parts of the basin are covered with deep layers of lava -- like a rough sea of black ink somehow frozen at mid-storm. Parts of it are covered by mile after mile of white gypsum dunes -- the glittering dry bed of an ancient lake. Looking down on this from a plane, one sees an immense, empty landscape in which black and whites ... It's not a hospitable landscape. The scale is too large for human comfort. It makes most people feel vaguely uneasy, threatened, out of control.

"Zollinger saw it first from the nose of an AT-11 bombing trainer. He was stationed at the nearby Roswell Army Air Force base, a boy from the green fields and tree-lined streets of Downers Grove, Illinois.

"After the war eight years passed before he returned to the Tularosa Basin ... Zollinger wrote ... 'It was an empty land, hard land, land I knew at a glance was probably cruel at times. And it was beautiful. My love affair with the Tularosa began that morning ... Small wonder, now that I look back, that when I decided to become a storyteller, it was the Basin I chose to set my stories in. There were, of course, practical reason for doing this. The land itself would be my principal character. Keeping my invented people at work on the vast, strange stage would lend my work a unity I lacked skill to achieve in any other way.'"

"Those of us who list Riders to Cibola among the premier novels of realism and those judges who selected it for the Golden Spur Award as the best novel of Western America of its year disagree with Zollinger's self-deprecating attitude about his skill. But the harsh and beautiful landscape of the basin is indeed a principal force moving it."

"Riders to Cibola was brought out by the Museum of New Mexico Press, a tiny appendage of the state museum system that published scholarly and scientific works. It had never dealt with fiction. There was no promotion budget and not much distribution. But word of mouth did its work. Readers told their friends. Zollinger's first novel became New Mexico's number one bestseller. It set an all-time record -- which I doubt will ever be broken ..." Tony Hillerman, July 1988.

Here's a quote:

“If Douglas hadn’t called another rest, and given Ignacio time to think, he might have done it all. But after he branded a dozen calves and watched them rock away stiff-legged, shaking droplets of blood from their heads, the halt allowed him too long to look at the bloody clutter on the bench and the flies on the barrel, and far too long to choke on the odor of ripped flesh, blood, cow droppings, and burning hair. The complaints of a hundred animals beat against his eardrums.
“’Take the knife this trip, Nash,’ Angus said.
“Ignacio turned again to the chute, where Tom now had a big calf pinned motionless. Stepping forward, the rider grabbed an ear and made his cut. Like hot oil, the blood ran down the bone handle of the knife. He moved to the other end of the calf to get the last part over with. Done once it could be done again. Si. When he touched the sac, something in his stomach picked that moment to rebel. He backed away, stumbling. Terrified he would lose whatever remained of his breakfast, he turned to run – and came face to face with Douglas.
“’I can’t, senor.’ Was that thin, reedy whine his voice? ‘I am sorry, but – not the cojones.’ He wished he was not too old to cry.
“Gimme the knife, sonny,’ Tom said. ‘It ain’t a bit different from picking chilis.’”
(As the story evolved, Tom became Ignacio's friend and mentor.)

[Chris · Rating 1 out of 5]

Made it to page 47. Painfully slow narrative of a young Mexican boy coming of age while working an Anglo Ranch in New Mexico just before statehood.

[Louis · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a long-time consumer of westerns on the page, television and movie screen, it's not easy to find a new story that ranks among my favorites. This book pulled that off. Ignacio Ortiz, a Mexican orphan who crosses the Rio Grande to find a life as a New Mexico cowboy, sees the flowering and ultimate end of the frontier. Although the territory is soon to become a state when he arrives in the early 20th century, it is still a land of large ranches. Also, despite the large Hispanic population, it is very much run by and for Anglos. Ignacio straddles these two worlds; he spends his free time at a cantina in the Latino section of town yet he considers his fate tied to that of his employers, the MacAndrews family. His bittersweet story will work both for fans of old-fashioned westerns and for those who seek less mythic but compelling tales.

[R. Lawrence · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was Norman's first book. I was lucky enough to know Norman. If I recall correctly, this was the first book of fiction published by Museum of New Mexico Press. I am re-reading Norman's books. Re-reading this book is like visiting good old friends. Love it.

[Tuck · Rating 4 out of 5]

family saga of a ranch in southern new mexico. it did tend to go on and on, but that's what happens if you keep having sex without a rubber. a classic western, better than most.

[Ed · Rating 4 out of 5]

Poignant, affecting, and often sad tale of a Mexican vacquero Ignacio Ortiz who spends most of his life working on a cattle ranch in New Mexico owned by the white MacAndrews clan. Definitely a much higher level above your run-of-the-mill Western. I liked the vivid landscapes, complex characters, and the story told over several generations.

[Jeff Tankersley · Rating 2 out of 5]

Riders to Cibola, Norman Zollinger (western, historical fiction)
Jeff Book Review #299

"Riders to Cibola" (1977) is an epic western set in the Southwest with narrative similarities to Guthrie's "Fair Land, Fair Land," Kelton's "Stand Proud," and Hall's "The Bad Lands." We see this corner of the world through the eyes of young Ignacio Ortiz, a Mexican orphan agreeing to work with a cattle rancher in New Mexico named Douglas MacAndrews. The MacAndrews clan is a wholesome and rowdy bunch and Ignacio quickly decides he enjoys his work there and knows he lucked out. As life goes on the family shows its good and bad colors as the world around them moves along and he is torn at times between his Mexican birth and American upbringing.

The setting here is 1905-1950 New Mexico, starting just before the Pancho Villa border raids, and then proceeds through two world wars, a Spanish flu epidemic, a dust bowl, and nuclear testing. Nash is a relatable character. We see the MacAndrews, the Southwest, and America from his perspective, with subtle commentary on legacy and responsibility. The story focuses on this little corner of the universe, showing us something about the people and events around it via the one POV, and family drama is more impactful than even world wars or racism.

Verdict: A romantic family drama soap opera western centered around the family ranch. For some reason I was really enjoying this one for the first half, but as I trudged my way through the final third I was just tired of reading it and it didn't hold my attention. It is a long book and is definitely in that post-modern, everything-is-awful-and-nothing-actually-matters school of preachy despairing western when all the narrative conflicts reach their obvious ends.

Jeff's Rating: 2 / 5 (Okay)
movie rating if made into a movie: PG-13

[David Mann · Rating 2 out of 5]

Didn’t finish. Zollinger is a very gifted writer, and he has created a western epic, replete with literary flourish. For me, the problem was it was too dark. For so many of us, the western genre is escapism. Even great literary Westerns are an escape. In contrast, to be dragged through the miserable lives of the McCallister family and those around them, left me feeling hollow and empty. I suppose many would call it great art to show the world and all its ugliness. I’d call it a missed opportunity to not use such great talent to better purposes.

If you love the Tularosa Basin country, read Paso Por Aqui: it’s real, but it’s beautiful.

[Ernest Hogan · Rating 4 out of 5]

A winner of the Spur Award. Not really a generic western, but the life of Ignacio Ortiz, a vaquero, from 1990 in a Mexican orphanage to ranch life in New Mexico until after the Second World War. Most of the Spanish words are italicized. It's a different kind of cowboy tale, with different, subtle conflicts.

[Jeff P · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good book, sad, bittersweet ending.

[Cynthia Scott · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was in some respects a classic western.. But it was more. A study of the complex mixture of cultures in the American Southwest during a time of much change. I loved this book, partly because I love this part of our country and it was such a good representation of it.

[Steven Law · Rating 5 out of 5]

On my list of top ten favorites. Fits right into the Great American Novel category.

[Douglas B · Rating 1 out of 5]

Tedious.