This is a war book, but not in a "black hawk down" way. It's a history book, but not in the "four score and seven years ago" way. It is a wilderness book but not in the "look at all the beauty of nature" kind of way. For some readers, this may seem to drag on a bit, but for me, the Epilogue gave the entire text a meaning, a purpose, an emotion. I think Bass is masterful in the way he bridges huge points within a somewhat simple story about suffering, key decisions, and the raw gut level human emotions present in all but expressed in so few.I get that some compare this to Blood Meridian; the setting is similar, the experience is very much the same, the same questions about humanity's motives.....but it tickles the brain slightly differently. He is equally profound in the story as Cormac was in BM, but far gentler in carrying you through the sun drenched, God forsaken landscapes that these early invaders lived through (largely they actually died there).Written in the first few days after the invasion of Baghdad, I think Bass' main point is to be careful regarding war mongering. He sees the fact that mankind will always be positioned to defending ones self BUT he illustrates that it's different than invading another for the pure lust of war. I am certain there are many other points he intended to make but I was caught in the story and likely missed a bunch. Its all put into motion in a story from years ago- the time when Texas stood independent from Mexico but was not yet officially in the USA. The narrator is now an old man, telling his perspectives as a young man. Despite the years between the "doing" and the "telling", the foundations of his emotions are as strong or stronger some 50 years after the fact. Good stuff- I get you man.
Well-known outdoor writer Rick Bass tells the story of the infamous Mier Expedition, a group of wildcats who, in 1842, crossed the Texas border into Mexico, attacked a village, and were captured. They were marched across Mexico, and most of them died. At one point, Santa Ana ordered that 1/10 of them should be executed, so black beans and white beans were put into a jar, a tenth of them black. (Hence, the "diezmo") The men who drew the black beans were taken out and shot. My great-great grandfather, Willis Coplan, was part of this group, and (obviously) drew a white bean. He's mentioned on pages 146 and 202. So naturally I recommend this book. But even without the personal connection, I would still recommend it, for its vivid writing and historical significance.
What do You think about The Diezmo: A Novel (2005)?
The first half of The Diazmo is flawless, engrossing and exciting. Then it begins to read like a cribbed, poorly integrated quotes from a stack of index cards. Whaaa happened? I was mortified and high expectations were dashed. The facts were interesting in an academic sense, but as a novel it was an essay. The plot has been recounted by others, so I'll pass. It bears some resemblance to Blood Meridian and All The Pretty Horses if not all The Border Trilogy both in story elements, character elements and language. It possible they share a common source. There is nothing that bothers me about that. I had expected much more and for a while I was happy thinking I was getting it.
—Charles
A fantastic story with an ancestor of mine in it, so all the more interesting, as I grew up knowing the story of the diezmo in regards to this man. But this is a novel, with the real expedition woven into it. I love just about anything Rick Bass writes, and this was no disappointment. It would be hard to not draw a comparison between The Diezmo and Cormac McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses--two young Texans, looking for adventure, head south of the new border and get more than they bargained for in violence and a world they know nothing about. There is even a beautiful young Mexican girl who the narrator falls for, but can't ever hope to have, as she is the daughter of an important Mexican official. But, I loved John Grady and Rawlins and I loved this one too. I think I would have given it five stars if the narrator hadn't made me so crazy with his endless hemming and hawing. Of course, had he never gone, or escaped right away there would be no story...
—Heather C.
