In Rob Nixon's superb book Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor he asserts that there isn't a great anti-oil novel/movement the same way there's a great body of anti-coal/industrialization literature. That might be a fair assertion. But then I read Martin Cruz Smith's Nightwing, which is not a great novel, but is a good pulp novel very interested in American corporate industrial exploitation of the Hopi and Navajo Indians. Yes, it's a horror novel about hordes of vampire bats, a concept that fully embraces the absurdity of pulp horror (don't read horror if you want plausibility and realism; the whole point of the genre is often to destroy those boundaries). But beyond its basic premise, is a study of corporate-colonial greed that I really appreciate, especially since the Navajo tribe's oil and gas acreage is the second largest the United States.Smith isn't Hopi or Navajo, but he does have Pueblo ancestry, which doesn't make him an expert, but does underscore the obvious intent to draw attention to injustices done to these tribes. I'm not a Native American scholar and not very well read in Native American literature, so I can't really comment on his portrait of these tribes and cultures. But his intent is commendable and his anger toward the oil industry's exploitation is completely understandable. Vampire bats, their origins and connections to humans, play into that commentary and metaphor of corporate greed and its power to destroy entire peoples. The ending makes that rather abundantly clear. Thankfully, Smith doesn't cast Native Americans as helpless victims, but presents a much more dynamic story than that. The story also excels in being quick and direct -- it's short and you can rip through it really fast. It could probably be even a touch slimmer. Given the wretched history of capitalist exploitation of tribal natural resources in the twentieth century (see Judy Pasternak's book Yellow Dirt about the corporate and military greed surrounding uranium extraction during the Manhattan Project and the Cold War, as well as Donald Fixico's The Invasion of Indian Country in the Twentieth Century for some sobering reading), I'd say Smith's book is an appropriate and much-needed literary contribution to criticizing America's continued exploitation of Native Americans. Perhaps Nixon is right that there isn't a great body of anti-oil literature. Or maybe Nixon just isn't looking in the right place. If "high" American literature is still largely determined by white American males (and it certainly would have been in 1977 when this novel was released), then is it much of a surprise that a pulp novel about issues on a Native American reservation would be overlooked? Maybe pulp is where we'll find a solid body of anti-oil, anti-capitalist literature. Sure, stories like Nightwing aren't masterpieces of literary excellence, but there's a democratizing potency to their style that makes them of immense social value.
I know Martin Cruz Smith for his detective novels set mostly in Russia/the Soviet Union: Gorky Park, Red Square, etc. This one is set in the American Southwest, on a Hopi reservation, and involves bats. Lots of bats. It's not really a detective novel, 'cause there's no detective and no real mystery for the reader; we know whodunit - the bats dun it. Still though, it makes for good reading because, as with his Russian detective, Smith makes the story about more than just solving the crime; his "hero" is a fully-developed character (who often isn't very heroic, by the way). Kudos to Smith for his obvious research into the way of life of the Hopis and other tribes of the Southwest, and for his knowledge of how bats (and other animals) live. "Coolest scene" award for the bat attack on the Harley-driving telephone lineman!
What do You think about Nightwing (2000)?
A national bestseller, “Nightwings” is a horror story where giant, vampire bats are terrorizing an Indian reservation in the southern United States. For a short book (just over 200 pages), it feels overwritten with lengthy prose on Indian mythology and history. The lead characters, a young Hopi named Youngman and his white, well-off girlfriend, Anne, aren’t particularly likeable or interesting, and the bats, when they’re seen, fall flat in this modern over-sensationalized world of cinematic horror creatures.
—Scott Vandrick
Smith has written a number of thrillers. I was skeptical about this notion of bats menacing the nation, but in fact the action is confined to the Hopi reservation and is dramatically plausible. the idea is that vampire bats carry plague and because they are such highly evolved night hunters, really do present a figure of menace under such circumstances. The book also draws some interesting characters, like the Hopi deputy, Youngman, and the bat hunter. Also the interaction of tribal officials, with the government and corporate world, and the clash of cultures is brought up in a thoughtful way. Overall a fun read.
—Jrobertus
Like a less successful equivalent of Michael Crichton, Martin Cruz Smith’s story tries to tell of a disaster whilst at the same time dealing with scientific facts, medical jargon, and deeply-detailed passages of description and behind-the-scenes examination. All of this serves to perhaps give the book greater credibility than it deserves. Essentially its just another nature-run-amok story, but the level of authenticity means that you’ll never mistake this for a book by, say, Guy N. Smith. But at the same time, it seems Smith has forgotten to make his book interesting to the casual reader, so passages of action and excitement are limited. There are some good bits – the scenes of desert survival, etc., but there are far too few engaging characters to become really caught up in the story. The central character, Youngman, is an Indian with a chip-on-his-shoulder who’s always getting up people’s noses, including the reader. Violence and bloodshed are kept to a relative minimum for this genre, whilst the final solution to the problem is boringly predictable. Even the widespread disaster hinted at by the blurb is missing, the action always small-scale. Definitely a lesser addition to this overworked genre.
—Graham
