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The Red Caddy: Into the Unknown with Edward Abbey
A passionate advocate for preserving wilderness and fighting the bureaucratic and business forces that would destroy it, Edward Abbey (1927-1989) wrote fierce, polemical books such as Desert Solitaire and The Monkey Wrench Gang that continue to inspire environmental activists. In this eloquent memoir, his friend and fellow desert rat Charles Bowden reflects on Abbey the man and the writer, offering up thought-provoking, contrarian views of the writing life, literary reputations, and the perverse need of critics to sum up “what he really meant and whether any of it was truly up to snuff.” The Red Caddy is the first literary biography of Abbey in a generation. Refusing to turn him into a desert guru, Bowden instead recalls the wild man in a red Cadillac convertible for whom liberty was life. He describes how Desert Solitaire paradoxically “launched thousands of maniacs into the empty ground” that Abbey wanted to protect, while sealing his literary reputation and overshadowing the novels that Abbey considered his best books. Bowden also skewers the cottage industry that has grown up around Abbey's writing, smoothing off its rougher (racist, sexist) edges while seeking “anecdotes, little intimacies...pieces of the True Beer Can or True Old Pickup Truck.” Asserting that the real essence of Abbey will always remain unknown and unknowable, The Red Caddy still catches gleams of “the fire that from time to time causes a life to become a conflagration.”
Audio CD
First published January 1, 2018
About the author
Charles Bowden
68 books191 followersCharles Bowden was an American non-fiction author, journalist and essayist based in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
His journalism appeared regularly in Harper’s GQ, and other national publications. He was the author of several books of nonfiction, including Down by the River.
In more than a dozen groundbreaking books and many articles, Charles Bowden blazed a trail of fire from the deserts of the Southwest to the centers of power where abstract ideas of human nature hold sway — and to the roiling places that give such ideas the lie. He claimed as his turf "our soul history, the germinal material, vast and brooding, that is always left out of more orthodox (all of them) books about America" (Jim Harrison, on Blood Orchid ).
His journalism appeared regularly in Harper’s GQ, and other national publications. He was the author of several books of nonfiction, including Down by the River.
In more than a dozen groundbreaking books and many articles, Charles Bowden blazed a trail of fire from the deserts of the Southwest to the centers of power where abstract ideas of human nature hold sway — and to the roiling places that give such ideas the lie. He claimed as his turf "our soul history, the germinal material, vast and brooding, that is always left out of more orthodox (all of them) books about America" (Jim Harrison, on Blood Orchid ).
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Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews
June 14, 2018
A slim, posthumous jewel of a book I never expected to see: the author whose work included Desierto and Down by the River reflects on his late friend, Edward Abbey. Workaholic Bowden died in 2014 and I thought that the only way to ever read unpublished work by him would involve a trip to whatever academic institution bought his archives. Found on his computer after his death, written in 1994, this is in some ways more artefact than finished book although it reads like the latter, with Luis Alberto Urrea providing a great forward.
Those that blindly worship the persona of Cactus Ed, who believed he was a modern day saint in possession of The True Beer Can of Knowledge, should skip this if they want to keep their faith intact. Those that can read and flinch at the same time, that shed a tear when Ed, then Chuck passed on, will rejoice at hearing Bowden's original voice again.
Those that blindly worship the persona of Cactus Ed, who believed he was a modern day saint in possession of The True Beer Can of Knowledge, should skip this if they want to keep their faith intact. Those that can read and flinch at the same time, that shed a tear when Ed, then Chuck passed on, will rejoice at hearing Bowden's original voice again.
December 16, 2022
Aside from a handful of moments of utter bewilderment coupled with a few times when I wanted to throw the book against a wall I'm really glad I read it and wouldn't recommend it to anyone. I think that's a fairly typical reaction to the author's work. You really have to stay with it for the reward.
Before I picked it up I didn't know the first thing about Edward Abbey and that's completely okay because the subject matter is beside the point, it's all about the author's style of writing and word choices. As disorienting as it can be at times there are always elemental points stated in stunningly interesting ways. There's a surrealist style to his nonfiction writing and when it works it's mesmerizing. But it doesn't always work and I couldn't read his books back-to-back. To say his style is polarizing is a massive understatement. Despite critical acclaim and some renown none of his many books have much in the way of reviews or ratings on GR, that doesn't seem right somehow.
Bowden's descriptions of Abbey seemed very honest. Often less than flattering if not outright mocking he nonetheless conveyed a warm kinship with a guy who came across as an insecure, drunken, womanizing lecher who stoked outrage more for the effect than any deeply held beliefs. I'm not sure Bowden was much different. Birds of a feather?
My first Bowden book was Down by the River: Drugs, Money, Murder, and Family and I loved it and will read it again. That's the book I'd recommend to the Bowden curious.
Before I picked it up I didn't know the first thing about Edward Abbey and that's completely okay because the subject matter is beside the point, it's all about the author's style of writing and word choices. As disorienting as it can be at times there are always elemental points stated in stunningly interesting ways. There's a surrealist style to his nonfiction writing and when it works it's mesmerizing. But it doesn't always work and I couldn't read his books back-to-back. To say his style is polarizing is a massive understatement. Despite critical acclaim and some renown none of his many books have much in the way of reviews or ratings on GR, that doesn't seem right somehow.
Bowden's descriptions of Abbey seemed very honest. Often less than flattering if not outright mocking he nonetheless conveyed a warm kinship with a guy who came across as an insecure, drunken, womanizing lecher who stoked outrage more for the effect than any deeply held beliefs. I'm not sure Bowden was much different. Birds of a feather?
My first Bowden book was Down by the River: Drugs, Money, Murder, and Family and I loved it and will read it again. That's the book I'd recommend to the Bowden curious.
Read
January 28, 2020I once admired Edward Abbey. I read Desert Solitaire at a tender age, not long before I went off to an environmental science program at a cozy liberal arts college, and it was a wonder, the sort of thing that can do a lot to motive at an ecologically-minded young man. A couple years later, I read The Monkeywrench Gang and.... meh.
I figured a write-up by unsung hero of American essays Charles Bowden would enlighten me. I found Abbey to be, well, a kind of shitty alcoholic (even for the time) racist (also even for the time) who was inordinately obsessed with his own novelistic skill, which is more or less par for the course for mid-century writers. The difference is that with those P R O B L E M A T I C geniuses of the time, the Roths and Updikes and Cheevers and the like, they could write like fucking champs. Abbey couldn't, at least not in the novel form. And so this comes off less as a portrait of a flawed great than of just a fuckin' dick.
I figured a write-up by unsung hero of American essays Charles Bowden would enlighten me. I found Abbey to be, well, a kind of shitty alcoholic (even for the time) racist (also even for the time) who was inordinately obsessed with his own novelistic skill, which is more or less par for the course for mid-century writers. The difference is that with those P R O B L E M A T I C geniuses of the time, the Roths and Updikes and Cheevers and the like, they could write like fucking champs. Abbey couldn't, at least not in the novel form. And so this comes off less as a portrait of a flawed great than of just a fuckin' dick.
February 29, 2020
The best bio of Cactus Ed there is, because Bowden portrays him warts and all (while allowing for Whitmanian multitudes to be part of his contradictions, which I'll partially buy) and also because Bowden rejects "the cult of Abbey" — while indicating at the same time that most of Ed's multitudes would probably do so as well, but yet, some small slice of Ed would love this.
On the warts and all? Contra both "friends" biographies and the more formal one by Cahalan, Bowden notes that, without using the word "alcoholic," this is most likely what Ed was. And, albeit indirectly more than directly, he notes that Ed's womanizing continued through most of his marriage to his last wife, Clarke. He also notes it seemed to surprise Ed that he didn't drive her off, almost as if he not only expected this, but some part of him wanted that to happen. Bowden also seems to indicate, again indirectly, that Clarke kind of buys into the cult of Ed, and that she probably does so in part because of marketing Abbey. Sic semper capitalism, and remember this, folks, whenever you hear Clarke Abbey talking about Ed. Surprised that Bowden didn't appear to put 2 + 2 together and note that this is precisely WHY Ed couldn't drive off Clarke. And, we have what seems to me to be further confirmation of Clarke's capitalistic bent from 2024.
It's great for specific dismantling of the cult of Ed, including how some of these friends, more, even far more than Clarke, pushed and promoted the cult of Ed. I suspect this is part of why Chuck didn't go to Ed's desert burial. He suspected the "church" would get started, and he'd get sick — or even get into a fight or two at the burial.
Finally, it's great because, per the editorial review, it IS a "literary" biography. The material in italics in this book read like stream of consciousness snippets from a dystopian futuristic novel involving Ed as a dystopian Nietzschean ubermensch. Ed would have loved to play that role.
Read this book.
On the warts and all? Contra both "friends" biographies and the more formal one by Cahalan, Bowden notes that, without using the word "alcoholic," this is most likely what Ed was. And, albeit indirectly more than directly, he notes that Ed's womanizing continued through most of his marriage to his last wife, Clarke. He also notes it seemed to surprise Ed that he didn't drive her off, almost as if he not only expected this, but some part of him wanted that to happen. Bowden also seems to indicate, again indirectly, that Clarke kind of buys into the cult of Ed, and that she probably does so in part because of marketing Abbey. Sic semper capitalism, and remember this, folks, whenever you hear Clarke Abbey talking about Ed. Surprised that Bowden didn't appear to put 2 + 2 together and note that this is precisely WHY Ed couldn't drive off Clarke. And, we have what seems to me to be further confirmation of Clarke's capitalistic bent from 2024.
It's great for specific dismantling of the cult of Ed, including how some of these friends, more, even far more than Clarke, pushed and promoted the cult of Ed. I suspect this is part of why Chuck didn't go to Ed's desert burial. He suspected the "church" would get started, and he'd get sick — or even get into a fight or two at the burial.
Finally, it's great because, per the editorial review, it IS a "literary" biography. The material in italics in this book read like stream of consciousness snippets from a dystopian futuristic novel involving Ed as a dystopian Nietzschean ubermensch. Ed would have loved to play that role.
Read this book.
February 1, 2020
A collection of memories by journalist Charles Bowden about the environmentalist writer Edward Abbey. Although Abbey has difficult relationships, he is remembered as one of the iconoclasts of this style of writing. He was outspoken enough that the FBI kept a file on him, and he often made racist comments about Mexican American or who ever else didn't live to his ideals. I am glad to have read this book before spending time reading Abbey's books.
June 12, 2024
I'm a little indifferent to crusty ole' Edward Abby, TBH. I'm glad his crusty old friend wrote this little memoir/biography (just a snapshot really) about him. And they got another crusty ole' buddy to write the forward.
I didn't really love the writing all that much. It seemed opinionated, acerbic and quite frankly, defensive. I guess I remain indifferent.
physical loan from Mapleton
I didn't really love the writing all that much. It seemed opinionated, acerbic and quite frankly, defensive. I guess I remain indifferent.
physical loan from Mapleton
June 7, 2018
Ed Abbey is one of my heroes, but since his death in 1989 he has grown into legend, desert guru, environmental saint, and what Bowden called the “Dead Ed Industry”. This is a much needed antidote to the canonization of Abbey and a real tribute to this writer who was a true original. Although best known for Desert Solitaire, Abbey wanted to be known not as a regional nature writer but as a novelist of universal themes. This small book (101 pages) is a true gem. Good review recently on NPR. https://www.npr.org/2018/04/28/603368...
February 23, 2019
When I lived in Tucson I used to see Edward Abbey around the edges of the campus of the University of Arizona now and then and I knew Chuck Bowden. So I was very curious when The Red Caddy popped up four years after Bowden's death. It's a very short book - only 120 pages - but it has an Acknowledgements page in which Bowden thanks the people who helped him write the book. So I guess it he felt it was mostly finished in his lifetime.
It's not a great Bowden book. One wonders if he wasn't still working away at this one at his death. But Bowden has trouble writing about someone close to him like Abbey. He dances all around Abbey for most of the book. He doesn't even mention his name until the 35th page.
"I can't write about a friend and make it neat and tidy unless I intend to kill my friend. And this is not my intention. To be an expert on someone you know, I truly believe, is never to have known them at all. Which is why we assign such work to scholars. We say they will be objective, while we ourselves cannot promise such a feat. . . To really know someone, to break bread with them and talk and drink and laugh and argue, is much like knowing an ecosystem. You can get the drift, draw a map, know many trails, but the more you know the more convinced you become that absolute knowing is impossible." So The Red Caddy is Bowden's non-objective memory of Ed Abbey.
"The first time I met him I was not trying to meet him. I do not like writers." More of this book is about Bowden than it is about Abbey. But that's more or less true of most of Bowden's books. If we are going to realign ourselves with Bowden's perspective, he has to continually remind us of where he stands, of what he stands for, of what he stands against. But for Bowden, Ed Abbey presents a problem, because Abbey has, in Bowden's own words, "the gut responses of the nation's mountaineer-rock-hard-white-trash hillbillies." Abbey spouted off against Mexicans and against immigration. And even though married, he traipsed after every young woman that came across his sight. So Abbey was Bowden's friend, but, to Bowden, he could never be the moral compass and the environmental hero that so many people made him out to be. "I think this translation into desert sage, Western god, or whatever, is a diminishment of both him and his words."
"I don't think Abbey was so complicated - he was just ornery."
For me there were two takeaways about Abbey in this book. First, "Abbey did not want to be seen as a nature writer. . . For his generation, coming out of World War II, the Great American Novel was the white buffalo of the sacred medicine. Nonfiction was just a gig to make money but the novel was the true proof of worth and was the only serious method of plumbing the depths of the nation, the planet, and the human soul." And second, Desert Solitaire "dwarfed everything else he thought he did." Bowden thinks the book was a "curse" that haunted Abbey the rest of his life, overshadowing his desire to write the great American novel.
Even though this is not one of Bowden's best books, the writing here still occasionally blazes with Bowden's inimitable passion and his wonderful sense of self-deprecation. "I'm a sucker for obsessive people. Life is too short not to be a maniac." For many of us, Chuck Bowden's life was just too short.
It's not a great Bowden book. One wonders if he wasn't still working away at this one at his death. But Bowden has trouble writing about someone close to him like Abbey. He dances all around Abbey for most of the book. He doesn't even mention his name until the 35th page.
"I can't write about a friend and make it neat and tidy unless I intend to kill my friend. And this is not my intention. To be an expert on someone you know, I truly believe, is never to have known them at all. Which is why we assign such work to scholars. We say they will be objective, while we ourselves cannot promise such a feat. . . To really know someone, to break bread with them and talk and drink and laugh and argue, is much like knowing an ecosystem. You can get the drift, draw a map, know many trails, but the more you know the more convinced you become that absolute knowing is impossible." So The Red Caddy is Bowden's non-objective memory of Ed Abbey.
"The first time I met him I was not trying to meet him. I do not like writers." More of this book is about Bowden than it is about Abbey. But that's more or less true of most of Bowden's books. If we are going to realign ourselves with Bowden's perspective, he has to continually remind us of where he stands, of what he stands for, of what he stands against. But for Bowden, Ed Abbey presents a problem, because Abbey has, in Bowden's own words, "the gut responses of the nation's mountaineer-rock-hard-white-trash hillbillies." Abbey spouted off against Mexicans and against immigration. And even though married, he traipsed after every young woman that came across his sight. So Abbey was Bowden's friend, but, to Bowden, he could never be the moral compass and the environmental hero that so many people made him out to be. "I think this translation into desert sage, Western god, or whatever, is a diminishment of both him and his words."
"I don't think Abbey was so complicated - he was just ornery."
For me there were two takeaways about Abbey in this book. First, "Abbey did not want to be seen as a nature writer. . . For his generation, coming out of World War II, the Great American Novel was the white buffalo of the sacred medicine. Nonfiction was just a gig to make money but the novel was the true proof of worth and was the only serious method of plumbing the depths of the nation, the planet, and the human soul." And second, Desert Solitaire "dwarfed everything else he thought he did." Bowden thinks the book was a "curse" that haunted Abbey the rest of his life, overshadowing his desire to write the great American novel.
Even though this is not one of Bowden's best books, the writing here still occasionally blazes with Bowden's inimitable passion and his wonderful sense of self-deprecation. "I'm a sucker for obsessive people. Life is too short not to be a maniac." For many of us, Chuck Bowden's life was just too short.
March 17, 2018
he lived in a moral universe. beneath all the sexist barbs, the racist wit, the meanness, the pranks, the stunts, the anger, the episodes, the constant laughing and mirth, he inhabited and consciously expanded a moral universe. one where cleverness and normal standards of success don't count for much but right and wrong count for pretty much everything. ah, one life at a time, please, but still a real life.charles bowden's the red caddy: into the unknown with edward abbey is part biography, part friendship memoir, part elegy, part subdued encomium, and part reckoning with the legacy of a literary life. perhaps few authors retain as much of an air of conflicted devotion in death as they did in life, yet cactus ed possessed a seemingly complicated, paradoxical, often contradictory nature. like his ideological forbear, abbey contained multitudes.
fellow southwesterner charles bowden recounts his relationship with abbey, while decrying the commercial appropriation and exploitation of his late friend and his writing. much of bowden's the red caddy is situated around a tribute event to abbey and a panel discussion he (begrudgingly) moderated while there. in spirit and temperament, it appears bowden and abbey shared much in common, not least of which was a charming cantankerousness and apparent inability to mince words. though we sadly now inhabit a world without either abbey or bowden, the red caddy brings us a little closer to these two towering personalities, their work, and the influence they continue to wield from whatever's on the other side. a must-read for abbey and bowden devotees alike.
but they do not know, want to know who he really was, that core part each of us carries that others can only guess at and never really comprehend or possess—that we ourselves cannot fully understand. the most important part of a person remains unknown even to the person, the fire that from time to time causes a life to become a conflagration. where the light comes from and why.
(4.5 stars)
May 21, 2022
"Up against the wall, motherfucker! We've come for your dozer!"
If you are an Earth First!er, a lone monkeywrencher or just became a fan of Ed Abbey when you were in college, you'll enjoy this book. I especially encourage you to listen to the audiobook narrated brilliantly by Brian Troxell.
I had dinner with Ed Abbey once back in 1985 with the rest of the book department staff of The Nature Company (sic). Unfortunately, it was before I had ever read any of his work. In fact, the dinner was to celebrate the 10th anniversary hardbound republication of "The Monkeywrench Gang," extraordinarily illustrated by R. Crumb, who with his six or seven-year-old daughter was also in attendance at the dinner.
So I had pretty much nothing to talk to him about. I had just joined up with Bay Area Earth First! a month or two before and hadn't done a direct action yet. Thus, no tales from me to provoke similar stories from him or Crumb. And Crumb and he, it turns out, were two of the most quiet introverts I've ever met. These guys weren't Gore Vidal, with whom I also broke bread, earlier, in 1982 when he was running for the Senate and I was on the San Diego crew that ran his campaign there.
I hadn't read any Gore Vidal books yet either. But I knew my grandparents had Burr and a couple of other Vidal novels in their living room bookshelves. What I remember is Vidal coming up to me outside at the wine and cheese fundraising party we produced for him, and asking me–a lowly volunteer–about me, what was on my mind. That struck me as very thoughtful, since he was at the event to pitch rich wine-sippers. And no, I don't think he was trying to pick up on me.
I bought that 10th anniversary Monkey Wrench Gang hardbound and got it autographed earlier the day of the dinner, at the reception and book-signing we had for him at NatCo. I also bought the red t-shirt with R. Crumb's drawing from the book of the entire gang. I would start to collect and read Gore Vidal's essay books and novels around that time too. And that t-shirt was my favorite, which you can see in the photos and videos of me the day we sabotaged the first outdoor genetic engineering test site that would spray Frankenstein bacteria on strawberry plants (Viva! The Strawberry Liberation Front and The Mindless Thugs Against Genetic Engineering!)
Politically, Abbey and Vidal were prickly rabble-rousers and I've always considered them two of a kind, despite their significantly diverse personalities. And both of them, I've always thought, were more important as essayists than as novelists.
But I have no great stories to tell you about my experiences of both men, who had a tremendous impact on me; who were my literary cheerleaders and guides. At the dinner, the guest who struck me the most was Crumb's Carol Kane-looking daughter dancing in front of the fireplace.
You've now read everything I can remember about my times with both men!
I did know, however, how amazing it was that I got to be with these tremendous artists: three of the greatest at what they did in the world!
Charles Bowden knew Ed Abbey as a friend and fellow irascible writer of the West. I would say, if you drew a triangle and put Ed Abbey at one corner, Hunter S. Thompson at another and on top you put Abbey's character George W. Hayduke, that mix would produce Bowden in the center of the triangle.
I think I would have much more preferred to have a beer with Bowden, than Abbey. Now Abbey, Vidal, and Bowden are all gone. Those who knew them have their memories, and in the case of Vidal, there are abundant television records of him that survive to this day. Not so Abbey.
Fortunately, we do have this entertaining book, although Bowden confesses to the same problems I have recounting conversations with the Mighty Ed that are worth recounting.
Which is OK. All of these guys put everything in their work and it survives! That is not only what matters, but it is to be celebrated and toasted as often as possible, preferably with a local crew of your monkey wrenching cohort.
I'm even starting to reread all of Abbey's books in chronological order, starting with this one about him.
Bowden sells himself short. Even if there are few conversations recounted, the ghost of Ed Abbey arises throughout this book, usually driving recklessly past in his red Cadillac shooting at coal trains and laughing his ass off.
Abbey told Bowden that what the New York androgyne critics don't get is that when he wrote novels it was all about play. If they don't get that then they just have their heads up their pompous abundant chem-food-fertilized asses.
What is especially fortunate is that Bowden was a brilliant writer too, and so we get Bowden and Abbey in this book. Abbey, born in 1927 was part of the Silent Generation that followed the WWII GI Generation. That was my parents generation too. Maybe that explains Abbey's austere Abraham Lincolnesque visage and introversion. We can see Abbey's sexual escapades and Red Caddy as an effort to escape that mass android-like alienation of what was otherwise, to my mind, the Worthless Generation.
Bowden, born in 1945, was an original Baby Boomer and hippie hellraiser, from a generation with psychologically-absent fathers, and morally-vacuous parents who let the psychopaths running our federal government ship them off to Vietnam and turn their boys into murderers. So Bowden had his own alienation too.
If you too are alienated, and pissed off enough to do something about it, you might want to grab a sixer from the fridge and sit down at the virtual bar that is this book, to kick back and shoot the shit with these restless late neighbors and comrades of ours.
And then, pick up some book by Abbey that you've never read. Bowden would be thrilled if that's what comes out of you reading his book.
If you are an Earth First!er, a lone monkeywrencher or just became a fan of Ed Abbey when you were in college, you'll enjoy this book. I especially encourage you to listen to the audiobook narrated brilliantly by Brian Troxell.
I had dinner with Ed Abbey once back in 1985 with the rest of the book department staff of The Nature Company (sic). Unfortunately, it was before I had ever read any of his work. In fact, the dinner was to celebrate the 10th anniversary hardbound republication of "The Monkeywrench Gang," extraordinarily illustrated by R. Crumb, who with his six or seven-year-old daughter was also in attendance at the dinner.
So I had pretty much nothing to talk to him about. I had just joined up with Bay Area Earth First! a month or two before and hadn't done a direct action yet. Thus, no tales from me to provoke similar stories from him or Crumb. And Crumb and he, it turns out, were two of the most quiet introverts I've ever met. These guys weren't Gore Vidal, with whom I also broke bread, earlier, in 1982 when he was running for the Senate and I was on the San Diego crew that ran his campaign there.
I hadn't read any Gore Vidal books yet either. But I knew my grandparents had Burr and a couple of other Vidal novels in their living room bookshelves. What I remember is Vidal coming up to me outside at the wine and cheese fundraising party we produced for him, and asking me–a lowly volunteer–about me, what was on my mind. That struck me as very thoughtful, since he was at the event to pitch rich wine-sippers. And no, I don't think he was trying to pick up on me.
I bought that 10th anniversary Monkey Wrench Gang hardbound and got it autographed earlier the day of the dinner, at the reception and book-signing we had for him at NatCo. I also bought the red t-shirt with R. Crumb's drawing from the book of the entire gang. I would start to collect and read Gore Vidal's essay books and novels around that time too. And that t-shirt was my favorite, which you can see in the photos and videos of me the day we sabotaged the first outdoor genetic engineering test site that would spray Frankenstein bacteria on strawberry plants (Viva! The Strawberry Liberation Front and The Mindless Thugs Against Genetic Engineering!)
Politically, Abbey and Vidal were prickly rabble-rousers and I've always considered them two of a kind, despite their significantly diverse personalities. And both of them, I've always thought, were more important as essayists than as novelists.
But I have no great stories to tell you about my experiences of both men, who had a tremendous impact on me; who were my literary cheerleaders and guides. At the dinner, the guest who struck me the most was Crumb's Carol Kane-looking daughter dancing in front of the fireplace.
You've now read everything I can remember about my times with both men!
I did know, however, how amazing it was that I got to be with these tremendous artists: three of the greatest at what they did in the world!
Charles Bowden knew Ed Abbey as a friend and fellow irascible writer of the West. I would say, if you drew a triangle and put Ed Abbey at one corner, Hunter S. Thompson at another and on top you put Abbey's character George W. Hayduke, that mix would produce Bowden in the center of the triangle.
I think I would have much more preferred to have a beer with Bowden, than Abbey. Now Abbey, Vidal, and Bowden are all gone. Those who knew them have their memories, and in the case of Vidal, there are abundant television records of him that survive to this day. Not so Abbey.
Fortunately, we do have this entertaining book, although Bowden confesses to the same problems I have recounting conversations with the Mighty Ed that are worth recounting.
Which is OK. All of these guys put everything in their work and it survives! That is not only what matters, but it is to be celebrated and toasted as often as possible, preferably with a local crew of your monkey wrenching cohort.
I'm even starting to reread all of Abbey's books in chronological order, starting with this one about him.
Bowden sells himself short. Even if there are few conversations recounted, the ghost of Ed Abbey arises throughout this book, usually driving recklessly past in his red Cadillac shooting at coal trains and laughing his ass off.
Abbey told Bowden that what the New York androgyne critics don't get is that when he wrote novels it was all about play. If they don't get that then they just have their heads up their pompous abundant chem-food-fertilized asses.
What is especially fortunate is that Bowden was a brilliant writer too, and so we get Bowden and Abbey in this book. Abbey, born in 1927 was part of the Silent Generation that followed the WWII GI Generation. That was my parents generation too. Maybe that explains Abbey's austere Abraham Lincolnesque visage and introversion. We can see Abbey's sexual escapades and Red Caddy as an effort to escape that mass android-like alienation of what was otherwise, to my mind, the Worthless Generation.
Bowden, born in 1945, was an original Baby Boomer and hippie hellraiser, from a generation with psychologically-absent fathers, and morally-vacuous parents who let the psychopaths running our federal government ship them off to Vietnam and turn their boys into murderers. So Bowden had his own alienation too.
If you too are alienated, and pissed off enough to do something about it, you might want to grab a sixer from the fridge and sit down at the virtual bar that is this book, to kick back and shoot the shit with these restless late neighbors and comrades of ours.
And then, pick up some book by Abbey that you've never read. Bowden would be thrilled if that's what comes out of you reading his book.
February 22, 2022
A brief memoir written several years after the death of Ed Abbey by his friend and equally cantankerous fellow writer Charles Bowden. Published posthumously in 2018 this sliver of a book with the peculiar title will confound all but those initiated into the Abbey cult. If you don’t know who George Washington Hayduke is and the backstory of the man behind the name this one’s not for you. But if that makes sense do yourself the favor of reading “The Red Caddy”.
Bowden delivers his take on Abbey in his own imitable impressionistic way – then a well-recognized author living in Tucson, Bowden was invited to lead a conference featuring a panel of Abbey scholars. Naturally he loathes the idea but persists against his better judgment. Bits of insight into Ed’s character (adversarial, misogynist, quirky, funny, anti-capitalist, desert rat) are gradually revealed as Bowden offers his own asides and periodically returns to the conference. Throughout, the visions of Ed screaming through the late-night streets of Tucson or driving his Caddy with a beer in hand down dusty gravel roads appear like a vision in a dream floating by. Abbey passed away in 1989, Bowden in 2014 and the world is much worse off for the loss of these two firebrands.
In the great intro to the book Luis Urrea writes of his admiration for and initial meeting with Charles Bowden which sets expectations for the authors’ (Bowden) irascible personality. To give you an idea, Bowden tells how he walked out while delivering his Ph.D dissertation because he didn’t care for the questions a member of his committee was asking. He never returned. In the intro, Urrea tells about the semi-comical trip he took with Tony Delcavo (owner of the late/great Bella Luna Books in Colorado) when he purchased Abbey’s Cadillac which is recounted in his essay “Down The Highway With Edward Abbey” in Tucson and drove it to Denver. The Caddy is part of the Abbey lore and I had the good fortune to ride in it years ago while meeting Tony to peruse his incredible rare book collection before we headed off to a local Mexican restaurant for beer and chicharrones. Although the top was down we didn’t throw any beer cans onto the side of the road in memory of Ed but he did relate how Rudolfo Anaya put a curse on the Caddy before he and Luis departed Tucson… and so the story begins.
Bowden delivers his take on Abbey in his own imitable impressionistic way – then a well-recognized author living in Tucson, Bowden was invited to lead a conference featuring a panel of Abbey scholars. Naturally he loathes the idea but persists against his better judgment. Bits of insight into Ed’s character (adversarial, misogynist, quirky, funny, anti-capitalist, desert rat) are gradually revealed as Bowden offers his own asides and periodically returns to the conference. Throughout, the visions of Ed screaming through the late-night streets of Tucson or driving his Caddy with a beer in hand down dusty gravel roads appear like a vision in a dream floating by. Abbey passed away in 1989, Bowden in 2014 and the world is much worse off for the loss of these two firebrands.
In the great intro to the book Luis Urrea writes of his admiration for and initial meeting with Charles Bowden which sets expectations for the authors’ (Bowden) irascible personality. To give you an idea, Bowden tells how he walked out while delivering his Ph.D dissertation because he didn’t care for the questions a member of his committee was asking. He never returned. In the intro, Urrea tells about the semi-comical trip he took with Tony Delcavo (owner of the late/great Bella Luna Books in Colorado) when he purchased Abbey’s Cadillac which is recounted in his essay “Down The Highway With Edward Abbey” in Tucson and drove it to Denver. The Caddy is part of the Abbey lore and I had the good fortune to ride in it years ago while meeting Tony to peruse his incredible rare book collection before we headed off to a local Mexican restaurant for beer and chicharrones. Although the top was down we didn’t throw any beer cans onto the side of the road in memory of Ed but he did relate how Rudolfo Anaya put a curse on the Caddy before he and Luis departed Tucson… and so the story begins.
May 8, 2025
This was a spectacular book. I am throughly hooked on Charles Bowden. Late in life the Eco-warrior (some would say terrorist) Edward Abbey bought a gas guzzling 1975 Red Cadillac El Dorado. Now some might see this as sacrilege for someone who treasured the environment. Not so fast fellow reading pilgrims! Bowden was a friend of Abbey and accepted him warts and all. Abbey loved himself above all things, he was a serial cheater, misogynist, based on his jokes possible racist and an a tour de force as a writer and human being. Bowden is disgusted throughout this book that everyone wants to turn Abbey into a God or Icon. No quote better sums up his disgust than this description of his friend: “He was reasonably polite, didn’t shit on the floor, and was well read.” Brutal and succinct. The book shifts to an Edward Abbey conference that Bowden, who is the moderator wants absolutely no part of so he fortifies himself with alcohol and memories of his friend. When Bowden begins to get asked incessantly about What Abbey Ate? He says: Food. When asked where Abbey lived he deadpans in a house. This is the type of caustic wit missing in so much of modern day America. Perhaps the saddest aspect of this book is that it was a former library book that had never been read. Think about that for a moment. Well I can affirm I read and loved every single page. Your mileage may vary.
May 11, 2020
A complicated, complex book about a complicated complex man. I loved the writing, but I hated the overt and unapologetic masculinity.
Author Charles Bowden's elegy (of sorts) for Edward Abbey, The Red Caddy captures the messiness of grief. The book charts the anger that Bowden feels over the mythologizing of his friend Edward Abbey, who (despite conventional wisdom) was as imperfect as the rest of us. He captures, too, the self-hatred he feels for his own boredom with the eulogizing, and the hopelessness that he and Abbey (and other "nature writers") feel about generating hope for the environment even as they know that all is lost.
I loved the writing; there is real beauty here. But I'm impatient with the author's inability and unwillingness to confront his own responsibility -- and Abbey's responsibility -- for the philandering, the objectifying, the casual (and often cruel) demeaning and dismissal of women, ethnic minorities and other underrepresented groups.
Perhaps it's inevitably the case that the environmental movement -- like so many other movements -- began with the narrow, and narrow-minded, leadership of white men. Thank goodness that the movement has evolved to include other voices -- just as lyrical, and just as flawed, but more empathetic and more diverse.
Author Charles Bowden's elegy (of sorts) for Edward Abbey, The Red Caddy captures the messiness of grief. The book charts the anger that Bowden feels over the mythologizing of his friend Edward Abbey, who (despite conventional wisdom) was as imperfect as the rest of us. He captures, too, the self-hatred he feels for his own boredom with the eulogizing, and the hopelessness that he and Abbey (and other "nature writers") feel about generating hope for the environment even as they know that all is lost.
I loved the writing; there is real beauty here. But I'm impatient with the author's inability and unwillingness to confront his own responsibility -- and Abbey's responsibility -- for the philandering, the objectifying, the casual (and often cruel) demeaning and dismissal of women, ethnic minorities and other underrepresented groups.
Perhaps it's inevitably the case that the environmental movement -- like so many other movements -- began with the narrow, and narrow-minded, leadership of white men. Thank goodness that the movement has evolved to include other voices -- just as lyrical, and just as flawed, but more empathetic and more diverse.
June 6, 2020
If you want to know who Edward Abbey really was, read this 100 page book by Charles Bowden. Charles Bowden is a legend himself, writing many books about the Southwest and many articles for well known magazines. He wrote this in 1994, but I guess, never published it so it finally came to print and the public in 2018, 4 years after his death . There is a great, memorable foreword in the book written by Luis Alberto Urrea, who is also a legend in his own right.
This book reveals the raw and undiluted essence of Abbey...the good, the bad and the ugly. However, the author believes that the essence of Abbey, or anyone, cannot be truly known for certain. I feel after reading this rambling dissertation on Abbey that Bowden knew Abbey better than anyone. And I say this because I’ve read many books about Abbey written by people who called themselves his friend. Bowden says this of Abbey in the book:
“He will never be what you approve of, though he will ( with alarming frequency) be what you secretly think but are afraid to say or admit to. And he will most often act out the one thing you dream of but cannot do: live your life regardless of the opinion of others. “
I loved this book and will definitely reread it. Despite Abbey’s faults, his philosophies, his views on society, I still love the man, because as Charles Bowden felt too, Abbey really was his own person!
This book reveals the raw and undiluted essence of Abbey...the good, the bad and the ugly. However, the author believes that the essence of Abbey, or anyone, cannot be truly known for certain. I feel after reading this rambling dissertation on Abbey that Bowden knew Abbey better than anyone. And I say this because I’ve read many books about Abbey written by people who called themselves his friend. Bowden says this of Abbey in the book:
“He will never be what you approve of, though he will ( with alarming frequency) be what you secretly think but are afraid to say or admit to. And he will most often act out the one thing you dream of but cannot do: live your life regardless of the opinion of others. “
I loved this book and will definitely reread it. Despite Abbey’s faults, his philosophies, his views on society, I still love the man, because as Charles Bowden felt too, Abbey really was his own person!
February 5, 2023
Being an Edward Abbey fan, I wanted to read a biography of him to help me to understand who he was to those who knew him, and by those who knew him. Apparently he was somewhat of an enigma. I have read two bios of Abbey, and don't seem any closer to understanding the man he was really. And maybe that is okay. In The Red Caddy, there are anecdotes regarding the adventures between Bowden, a close friend, and Abbey. They were drinking buddies and seemed to be kindreds, both good and bad. The style of the book is a bit rambling and disorganized for my personal taste, but it does serve to retain the mystery of Abbey because it never really does seem to get to the point, although there is a deep appreciation of the man. Abbey was not easily definable, or Bowden had a difficult time pinning him down, or else was not sure he wanted to. Regardless, there are enjoyable bits here, and overall the tone is one of reverence for close friendship and the intense value of having true characters in one's life to add that hot spiciness that is sometimes what is mostly remembered of a main dish.
September 29, 2026
Very strong 4, I'm just not sure 5's exist in my present mind state.
F'ing Chuck!
Dead Ed Industries
Pitching cans out the car window so our descendants can easily discover densley packed and linear mineral belts
The Fat Masterpiece
a sheep in sheep's clothing
He was reasonably polite didn't shit on the floor and was well read.
If we lose, well, a good fight is better than being a spectator
Told he had maybe 6 months to live he said well, I guess I don't have to floss anymore
Never before in history have slaves been so well fed, thoroughly medicated, lavishly entertained, our debased culture is the culture of slaves. By enshrining the profit motive as our guiding ideal we encourage the intensive and accelerating consumption of land, air and water. A house built on greed will not long endure. These oligarchic militaristic, expansionistic, acquisitive, industrializing and technocratic systems are driven by this motive. Humans were free before the word freedom became necessary. Liberty is life: Eros plus Anarchos equals Bios
F'ing Chuck!
Dead Ed Industries
Pitching cans out the car window so our descendants can easily discover densley packed and linear mineral belts
The Fat Masterpiece
a sheep in sheep's clothing
He was reasonably polite didn't shit on the floor and was well read.
If we lose, well, a good fight is better than being a spectator
Told he had maybe 6 months to live he said well, I guess I don't have to floss anymore
Never before in history have slaves been so well fed, thoroughly medicated, lavishly entertained, our debased culture is the culture of slaves. By enshrining the profit motive as our guiding ideal we encourage the intensive and accelerating consumption of land, air and water. A house built on greed will not long endure. These oligarchic militaristic, expansionistic, acquisitive, industrializing and technocratic systems are driven by this motive. Humans were free before the word freedom became necessary. Liberty is life: Eros plus Anarchos equals Bios
September 27, 2025
I've never read any other Charles Bowden before, so maybe this writing was his authentic voice, but it read to me as him cosplaying as Abbey in sentence structure, word choice, and attitude.
That's not necessarily good or bad, but it stood out to me.
Beyond that, I wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to convey except that Abbey wasn't the person he was venerated to be after his death. Seems funny that he spends the whole book downplaying people's obsession with the man, yet also decided to make a buck writing a book about the very same.
And I decided to read it, so I made his point for him. Bowden knew there was a market out there for Abbey, and, in the end, he contributed something positive, if not necessary, to it.
That's not necessarily good or bad, but it stood out to me.
Beyond that, I wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to convey except that Abbey wasn't the person he was venerated to be after his death. Seems funny that he spends the whole book downplaying people's obsession with the man, yet also decided to make a buck writing a book about the very same.
And I decided to read it, so I made his point for him. Bowden knew there was a market out there for Abbey, and, in the end, he contributed something positive, if not necessary, to it.
October 29, 2018
This book presents a very different picture of Edward Abbey from the usual God of conservation of the earth. This book presents him as a hard drinking, womanizing , rebellious guy who also happens to be a famous author with a large following of those interested in preserving wild areas, particularly dessert areas of the west.
The book is very well written but full of expletives .
The book is very well written but full of expletives .
September 30, 2022
This was a different kind of take on Edward Abbey and mostly an enjoyable book, but the structure itself confused me a bit and I was glad when I finished it. Which is okay since I think I bought it because favorite author Luis Alberto Urrea wrote the forward, which I enjoyed thoroughly.
April 22, 2019
A conflicted writer writes of another conflicted writer.
June 5, 2019
Too short.
No telling what he was talking about half the time. And how did these fellows drink so much and keep their brains enough to write?
No telling what he was talking about half the time. And how did these fellows drink so much and keep their brains enough to write?
November 7, 2024
3 and 1/2 stars out of 5 for this.
May 31, 2026
Any fan of the "Dead Ed" club will enjoy this insider memoir.
May 11, 2021
This book gives good insight into who Edward Abbey was as a person and is full of interesting "stream of consciousness" stories. It should be read by anyone who is interested in learning more about Abbey. However, the author basically condemns Abbey's cult fanaticism and near worship while simultaneously fueling it, profiting off of it, and using his proximity to Abbey to elevate himself. I lost track of the number of times the author criticized those who view Abbey as a mythic legend rather than the normal man he was, only to then immediately contradict himself by saying that Abbey was a mysterious, larger-than-life figure worthy of worship.
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