In Reckon, artist Logan Phillips returns to the fabled town of Tombstone to face the history he was raised on as a boy—gunfights, outlaws, and Hollywood cowboys—for a new, personal confrontation with the West’s foundational mythology. This hybrid memoir also explores sexuality, whiteness, masculinity, parenting, and what it means to love a land rife with contradiction and “slathered in murder.”
As innovative as it is moving, this memoir is constructed of essays, poetry, and of course, movie screenplays. As he writes the characters of his past—including Youngfather and Teenme—Phillips finds the real history to be much more complex than the stories he was told. This is Tombstone in the 1980s and 90s, a century after the West’s most famous gunfight—a fifteen-second event still performed every day in historical reenactments—where Phillips’s father works as a historical exhibit designer at the Courthouse Museum and his uncle as a stuntman at Old Tucson Studios.
With an original, searing voice, Reckon is an essential answer to the tough questions of past and future, inheritance and reinvention, all from the perspective of a boy stuck in the middle.
NARRATED BY THE AUTHOR. art by Logan Phillips, design by Leigh McDonald.
Reckon blew me away, like the gunfights-gunfights-gunfights in “The Town Too Tough to Die.” In this poetic memoir, Logan Phillips returns to the dusty boardwalks of Tombstone where he was born, exploring toxic masculinity of gunslingers, soldiers, and the border industrial complex.
They’re all related, of course.
Reckon is a gritty reckoning between reality and the myth of the gunslinging West. I loved it!
Reckon by Logan Phillips is a formally inventive memoir that interrogates the mythology of the American West by placing personal history in direct conversation with inherited narrative.
What stands out immediately is the use of place. Tombstone is not treated as a static setting but as a constructed environment where history is continuously performed. The reenactment of the gunfight becomes a central motif, illustrating how myth is preserved, repeated, and internalized across generations.
The memoir’s hybrid structure is one of its strongest elements. By combining essays, poetry, and screenplay formats, the book resists a single narrative mode. This fragmentation reflects the process of reexamining identity, where memory, performance, and interpretation overlap rather than align cleanly.
Another strength is how the book approaches inheritance. The presence of the father and uncle within the historical performance industry situates the author within a system that actively produces myth. This proximity complicates the process of questioning it, as personal connection and critical distance must coexist.
The exploration of masculinity and whiteness adds another layer of analysis. These themes are not treated abstractly but are embedded within the cultural framework of the West. The narrative examines how identity is shaped by both environment and expectation, particularly in a context where certain roles are reinforced through repetition.
The concept of “reckoning” operates on multiple levels. It refers not only to confronting historical narratives but also to reassessing personal identity in relation to those narratives. The act of writing becomes part of this process, allowing the author to reconstruct meaning from inherited stories.
What gives the memoir its impact is its refusal to stabilize meaning. The book does not replace one narrative with another. Instead, it exposes the complexity beneath simplified histories, leaving space for contradiction and uncertainty.
At 176 pages, Reckon offers a concise but formally rich reading experience that will resonate strongly with readers interested in experimental memoir, cultural critique, and the intersection of personal narrative with historical mythology.
Logan Phillips, aka DJ Dirty Verbs, is Tucson's current poet laureate. The library had oodles of audiobooks to lend, so I borrowed one. First 20 minutes did not impress me, as I came to understand the memoir in poetry is graphic and visual and I was missing something in the listening.
But in the listening the truth and reckoning of the author's own voice and I'm so glad I witnessed it. I'll listen to it again, so close to home it hit, though he and I are nothing alike yet when you identify with the desert of Southern Arizona you easily spot your fellow.
Tombstone, the town; Tombstone, the movie; imagery I can conjure my own self echoed in Logan's remembrance. Children of the 70s and 80s are wired differently. We resonate on the same frequency, and I felt that while listening. I laughed out loud, I came to tears, I feel like I totally got it.
Had I known of this before the Tucson Festival of Books I would have braved the crowds to see him speak.