What an odd novel this is. Night Rider is a long moody account of a dreamy, untethered soul caught up in down-to-earth matters that falter and lurch and bring him crashing down to earth. The novel opens with the young lawyer Percy Munn practicing in his small hometown of Bardsville, Kentucky, at the beginning of the 20th century. He’s been married for four years in quiet contentment with his wife. All seems good, but Munn almost abstractedly finds himself drawn into a larger vortex of activity, allying himself with a cabal seeking to leverage larger payouts from the big tobacco companies who routinely gouge the small farmer.
Munn observes how this “noble” cause step by inexorable step becomes tainted, corrupt, and violent, ultimately falling outside the law and bringing down on him and his confederates federal forces. Even as the larger enterprise slowly derails, Munn’s personal life emulates the same spluttering, downward trajectory. His marriage falls apart as he aspires to win the affections of the free-spirited daughter of one of his tobacco confederates. Lucille Christian seems to promise him a passion he’s not experienced in his quiet marriage. When everything collapses, and he flees and holes up for several months with a hard-scrabble old farmer (Willie Proudfit), he still dreams of running off with Lucille. At the same time, he dreams of exacting revenge on the broken-down Senator who’d done him wrong by bringing him into the tobacco alliance then abandoning it and advocating ineffectually against it.
Munn’s character is unmoored throughout, and he allows circumstances to jolt him from one course of action to another, admiring and following one man then another, each of them men of action and conviction. Warren is especially good at describing Munn’s detachment from things, making us aware that Munn is seemingly floating outside himself in the course of things. Munn has been raised with the right values, and this is illustrated in his efforts to win the freedom of a loutish farmer accused of murder. These efforts, which lead to the execution of an old Black laborer, turn sour when others imply he’d planted the evidence, and turn even darker when it becomes clear that the man he’d defended proves himself a killer.
Munn’s detached sensibility can’t help him remain free of the consequences of his half-hearted participation in events, and when he’s holed up for months, eluding federal and local authorities who want to bring him to trial for murder, he latches haphazardly onto the notion of killing the Senator. It’s a chimerical cause, no more meaningfully committed to than any of the others that have brought him to this point in his life. He walks into an ambush, only recognizing in his dying moments that he’d been betrayed by Proudfit’s bilious, resentful nephew.
Why I consider the novel peculiar has to do with the aimlessness of Percy Munn, how this is conveyed in the numerous scenes of his detached maundering about the impressions he brings to the fore that lie only peripherally at the scene of events. Warren appears to be painting the portrait of a dangling man, a man suspended existentially above a cauldron of events, unable to make an authentic decision. During the Great Depression, when the country’s many voices of discontent pulled it in several directions, many came to question the verities on which they’d based their lives. It seems a particularly prescient novel, and I’ve alluded to another (Dangling Man, by Saul Bellow) that echoes this existential dislocation. Night Rider is not a comfortable novel to read, as there’s not much to hold onto, but as a portrait of what comes of a spirit of diffidence and ambivalence, when it falls sway to men of wrong-headed conviction, it is painfully convincing.