I'm in a big Western mood at the moment, and amidst rewatching a bunch of Clint Eastwood classics, I realized I'd never read a Western novel (unless you count The Gunslinger, which... let's not). So I bought a couple and decided to read the very short Hombre first. While not the classic people make it out to be, I did quite enjoy Elmore Leonard's most celebrated Western novel.John Russell is riding on a stagecoach with five other passengers, plus the driver, to get back to his father's land so he can sell it. But when they find out he's part Apache, raised among the tribe and serving as one of its police officers, they suddenly don't want him in the car with them. But when the stagecoach is ambushed and robbed by a group of criminals and one of the women kidnapped, suddenly Russell becomes their only hope for survival.Spoilers...Hombre tackles racism head-on, using Native Americans as a stand-in for pretty much any ethnic group. The white passengers look down on Russell, thinking him -- and his people -- nothing more than animals. He tries to get them to see things from the Apache perspective but they refuse. When they discuss Kathleen MacLaren's kidnapping by the Apaches, Mrs. Favor declares that white men would never do that. Then, she is kidnapped by the white thieves, including Braden, the man with whom she was flirting in the car. When she's trotted out at the end, she desperately calls for her husband -- another white man -- to help her, but he does nothing and gives no indication of even wanting to. Russell, on the other hand, gives his life to save the woman who called him an animal, after asking the others which of them would be willing to do so and receiving blank stares in return. But was he always like that? For a while, Russell does nothing. Kathleen pleads with him to help Mrs. Favor, but he remains steadfast. Is he just biding his time, waiting for an opportunity? Or does he not want to help her because of what she said to him? The book is ambiguous, and that's important. Racial hatred knows no color boundaries.Most of the characters are pretty stock, which keeps Hombre from being as interesting as it could've been, but Russell is drawn really well. The story is narrated by another passenger, Carl Allen, who is, after the adventure they have, in awe of Russell. He sees him as a larger-than-life gunslinger, more legend than man, but the events he tells reveal Russell to be just that. He's a guy who knows how to shoot pretty well and knows how to track. He gets Mrs. Favor back, but he's gunned down at the same time. Nothing superhuman, just a guy willing to give his life to set things right. But in Carl Allen's eyes, he's The Man With No Name. Allen, interestingly, seems to recognize this flaw in his own recounting, but he can't help it. He idolizes the man he knew for too short a time, never realizing that he was no different than Allen himself.Hombre is a quick read, and a fun story of old west action and thrills, but I wouldn't expect the masterpiece many call it.
They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but when I was staring down the shelf of Western paperbacks, trying to find one that could fill a class requirement while causing me a minimum of mental agony, you’d better believe I was trying. A muted color scheme with simple, commanding fonts versus a cacophony of color and an overly-stylized typeface? A “classic” with blurbs from high-browed literary institutions versus #248 in a series? And most importantly, a solitary horseback rider in a barren landscape versus a swooning bargirl (complete with garter and bustier) and a mustachioed hero?Oh, I was judging.And I was judging ALL westerns, not just the pulp series that I quickly rejected. This was an academic exercise to be endured. Westerns are formulaic, mindless morality plays, where the good guys kill the bad guys (who are, often as not, those pesky "Injuns"), rescue gold-hearted prostitutes, and generally ooze testosterone from their very pores……right?Well, sort of. There are definitely characteristics that make a western a western, and themes of justice and morality are definitely central to the genre. However, in the hands of talented authors, good and evil are not clear cut, and the concept of morality can be murky at best. The setting is most often the historical west, the dialogue sparse, and the most prosaic passages saved for describing the land. But beyond these basics, there is wide range of literary talent—as is true with any genre. The book I ultimately chose to read, Elmore Leonard’s Hombre, is a fine example of a writer working within the genre conventions, while playing with traditional concepts.The story of John Russell (the titular “hombre”) is related through the eyes of young librarian Carl Allen. Allen is a passenger on an ill-fated stagecoach with the infamous Russell. As a white man raised by Apache during his youth, Russell has ties to multiple communities—Caucasian, Native American, and eventually the Mexicans—without ever truly fitting in to any one. When Russell joins the stagecoach, it’s to go to the land that his white relatives left him, yet his white fellow passengers largely insist that he sit with the driver. Later, when the coach is ambushed and a fellow rider is partly to blame, the same stranded passengers realize that Russell may be their best chance of surviving. Russell’s nuanced response to his treatment and Allen’s quickly dwindling naiveté take what could be a preachy and predictable story of racism and make it engrossing and thoughtful. The straight-forward plot (ending with a burst of action) make Hombre a quick read, but one worth trying. Has Leonard turned me into a Western fan? Not quite. But he’s made me less likely to paint all westerns with the same broad strokes.
What do You think about Hombre (2002)?
This isn't great literature, but it is diverting genre fiction; perhaps best enjoyed while sitting before a warm campfire. Hombre is the intellectual equivalent of an old dime novel: A two-fisted tale with bespurred heroes and sombreroed villains albeit lightly shaded with 1960's moral ambiguity. Like most of Elmore Leonard's yarns, Hombre is well-spun, and Leonard unspools his plot-threads with a plainspoken directness that a Missouri sod-buster would admire. Set in the 1880s, a light-eyed Spaniard raised by Apaches briefly sojourns with "civilized" folk. His sojourn is framed against the calculated savagery of a stagecoach robbery and its aftermath. Throughout this story, Leonard clumsily tries to transcend stereotypes... Very "hip" for the Swinging Sixties, but very "dated" now.Hombre was Leonard's first novel and his early prose is as dry and rugged as the American frontier. Nevertheless, having read Clarence Mulford, Oakley Hall, and A. B. Guthrie, I found Leonard's pulpy tones to be off-putting. He appears to be one of the least reflective authors of the Western genre. His work lacks the intricate craftsmanship of Mulford and the historical sweep of Guthrie. As such, Hombre is nothing special but, if you're waiting at a dentist office, it's a quick way to pass the hour.
—Alec
The only novel in recent years that I’ve read in one day. Reading it makes me want to find others who have, so we can discuss it. Leonard raises questions he does not answer, not in an infuriating manner like some avant-garde authors who think they are “thought-provoking”, but in a genuinely soul-searching manner.Were the characters justified in their action and inaction? Was the McLaren girl justified in what she said to Russell? Which characters could be proud of their behavior during the time period covered in the book? etc.
—Lee
Six travelers on the final run of a stage line encounter gunmen in the desert. How they survive (or don't) makes for an interesting short novel--one that was transformed into a striking movie several years later. The book's dialogue is tersely eloquent. Most survives in the movie version, though Leonard added additional dialogue to accommodate an extra character. (There is a scene in the movie in which the three women in it--there are two in the novel--discuss men that contains some tremendous dialogue. And then there's the great line st the end of the movie--"I wonder what hell is gonna look like"--that isn't in the novel.) The central character, John Russell remains the same: a fairly young man who is 1/4 Mexican and 3/4 white who was taken by the Apache when he was six, and who lived with them until he was twelve. Apache life had enough of an effect that he served later as an Indian policeman on the San Carlos reservation, having chosen to become culturally Apache. He is referred to several times, though, as "Tres Hombres," and faces choices about identity throughout. ("You see how white people stick together," says Dr. Favor, the despicable Indian agent who has stolen money from the reservation's funds. "They'd better," says Mendes in the novel and Russell in the movie.) The central issue of the book (and movie) is this: What do people owe each other? In ther novel, it is enunciated by a young woman who has just spent five weeks as a captive of the Apache. In the movie, the question is posed by Jesse, the boarding house manager. Either way, it is the most interesting question Leonard poses.
—Larry
