Might is Still Right
My first McMurty novel, and I am certainly going to read more of him. He captures the American West with great flair and understatement, and avoids all the Hollywood cliches, even though many of his books have been turned into films, and he himself had a screenplay writing career in Tinseltown.
Lonnie Bannon is the sensitive 17-year-old living with his grandparents, having lost his parents along the way (we are not told much about when, where, or how). He idolizes his 86-year old Grandpa Homer, who is resisting change and trying to make a go of it at raising cattle. Hud is the villain of the piece, Homer’s stepson, misogynistic, opportunistic, sadistic. Hud hates his step-father for sending him off to the war, and doesn’t do much around the ranch except run around at night, partying and sleeping with other men’s wives. Hud’s openly stated ambition is to usurp the Bannon ranch from his aging stepfather.
There are also some secondary characters who are well drawn: Halmea the black domestic help, and Jesse the lonesome cowhand who has spent his years in the rodeo business amassing many experiences but not a nickel to his name. The suppressed sexual tension oozing between Lonnie, Halmea, and Jesse is palpable, although Hud is the only one able to act upon it—and how he does!
With some foreshadowing of what’s to come, we realize that there is trouble when the dreaded Hoof and Mouth Disease strikes the Bannon herd, forcing Homer to make tough choices: kill the herd, liquidate, or sell oil rights on his land? He rails, “What good’s oil to me? What can I do with it? With a bunch a oil wells. I can’t ride out ever day an’ prowl amongst ’em, like I can my cattle. I can’t breed ’em or tend ’em or rope ’em or chase ’em or nothin’. I can’t feel a smidgen a pride in ’em, cause they ain’t none a my doin’.” One wonders whether this cattle disease is too convenient for Hud or whether he has had something to do with it, although according to Lonnie, “Hud had done everything he could to keep Homer from buying the Laredo cattle—he hated the whole South Texas area, and especially the Mexicans that were in it.”
The annual rodeo comes to town and Lonnie tries to escape his domestic strife by looking for girls, booze, and entertainment, all of which seem hard to come by for him, given his deeply introspective and sensitive nature. McMurty evokes the atmosphere of the rodeo very well, a time when women and men drink to excess and cross boundaries, when animals go onery and maim their riders, when everyone lives an unnatural existence for four days and returns to normal life a bit changed.
There were some elements of stagecraft that were lost on me. I couldn’t understand how Hud had such a hold over his step-father, and how old Homer made it so far from home in his nightshirt on the fateful last night of the rodeo. And most importantly, why someone didn’t beat the crap out of Hud for his in-your-face, upstart and immoral behaviour. Cowboys, you custodians of the upstanding moral code of the American West, where were you hiding?
This is a tale of loss. For not only is the beloved herd lost (midway in the book, so no spoiler), but Lonnie starts to lose the people who matter to him, including his home. And even though the events leading to the ending are dramatic, the climax fizzles out. The avenging cowboy laying the bad guy low does not happen, cliché though it is; instead the ending reinforces that Might is Right in America, that change is hard-to-impossible for the older generation, and that crooked people win over honest ones. I was reminded of that Shakespearean quote “The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.” McMurty seems to modify it slightly to imply, “The evil men live after the good ones are interred with their bones.”