"... 'Now you dance, chink!' With these words, the boy began dancing wildly and without grace, looking much like someone forced to stand barefoot over hot coals. It was an ugly thing to witness, and if I had not before made my decision about Mayfield, the matter was now settled in my mind." - Eli SistersAfter reading and greatly enjoying this book, it's finally come to me that I’m a fan of the Western. It surprises me, although I’m doing some head-smacking at my lateness in the realization. Westerns, whether in book or film form, bored me when I was younger. I think the drab landscape, lack of technology and overused tropes kept me away. What I think has brought me back is the prose in both Portis’ book “True Grit” and the recently remade film, as well as the excellent HBO series “Deadwood.” I have a fondness for this style of prose - characterized by formal use of language, sometimes punctuated by expletives and employing minimal use of contractions. DeWitt continues this style to magnificent effect.
This is a tale of Eli and Charlie Sisters: two brothers who are killers for hire. They encounter many characters and events on their journey. This might be called an anti-Western for its satirical moments, somewhat rambling plot and overall bleak outlook on civilization. The plot is secondary in my view, although it isn’t horrible. The joy of reading this book is the musings of the narrator, Eli Sisters as well as other characters in the book.
I’ve collected a few that follow.
Regarding gold-rush era San Francisco:
"’You must understand, gentlemen, that the tradition of thrift and sensible spending has all but vanished here. For example, when I arrived last time from working my claim I had a sizeable sack of gold dust, and though I knew it was lunacy I decided to sit down and have a large dinner in the most expensive restaurant I could find... and for this repast, which would have put me back perhaps half a dollar in my hometown, I paid the sum of thirty dollars in cash’Charlie was disgusted. ‘Only a moron would pay that.’
‘I agree,’ said the man. ‘One hundred percent I agree. And I am happy to welcome you to a town peopled in morons exclusively. I hope that your transformation to moron is not an unpleasant experience.’”
“‘Yesterday I saw a man leap from the roof of the Orient Hotel, laughing all the way to the ground, upon which he fairly exploded. He was drunk, they say, but I had seen him sober shortly before this. There is a feeling here, which if it gets you, will envenom your very center. It is a madness of possibilities. That leaping man’s final act was the embodiment of the collective mind of San Francisco. I understand it completely. I had a strong desire to applaud, if you want to know the truth.’”
This is the most I’ve enjoyed a book in a long time. A blurb refers to it as “cowboy noir,” which is apt. It is much-appreciated storytelling enlivened by simple, straightforward, writing craft.
Body count:
16 men shot
2 men poisoned
1 man drowned
1 man suicide by axe
2 bears
4 horses
1 dog
9 beavers
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