Another older review of an early Brian Garfield western
novel. Mr. Garfield passed away, after a years-long battle with Parkinson’s
disease, on December 29, 2018. When I have a hole in my reading list I’m going
to read a couple of his suspense novels, but until then, here is a review of The Lawbringers.
The American western
novel has a bad reputation. It is reputed to be ethnocentric, violent and, even
worse, simple and inaccurate. The good guys are too good, the bad guys are too
bad, and the natives are one-dimensional cutouts. The townsfolk—the common
working class—are portrayed as stupid, weak, or both.
In many cases this poor
reputation is deserved—there have been some really, really bad westerns
introduced on television, film and fiction. There have also been some damn good
westerns over the years—both past and present. To quote Theodore Sturgeon—he
was defending SF, but the same rule applies to westerns—“ninety percent of
everything is crap.” It is the other 10 percent that separates a viable genre
from a dead one and the western is far from dead, whether we are talking about
golden age stories or the novels published today.
An example of an older
title—it was published by one of the more maligned houses, Ace, in 1962—that
holds its own against the often valid arguments against westerns is Brian
Garfield’s The Lawbringers. It is a
traditional western from beginning to end. It is short, seemingly simple, and
very much to the point, but it is also clever, intelligent, and subtly complex.
The Lawbringers
is a biographical novel about the formation of the Arizona Rangers—a law
enforcement agency created by the territorial Governor to combat the seemingly
endless supply of toughs and criminals that haunted Arizona in the
late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Its focus is directed at the
chief Ranger, one Burton “Cap” Mossman, but it is told in an unexpected way. It
is a multi-perspective novel that never attempts to get into the head of
Mossman. Instead he is painted and defined by the characters around him—some
real, others created by Garfield—as a hard, stubborn and tough man.
The novel is dedicated to
Burt Mossman—“a chivalrous gentleman, a lawman, and an Arizonan.” But it is far
from a one-sided novel of adoration. It tackles the man’s complexity as well as
his flaws. He is depicted as a hard man doing a hard job. His decisions are
made with the citizens of Arizona in mind, but with a frightening lack of
color. There are no gradient shades, but rather his view is strictly black and
white, and more often than not the end justified the means. He wasn’t above
lynching a man to make his point, and the Mexico-Arizona border was less an end
to his jurisdiction and more an artificial line to be ignored.
Mossman is a man who
withstood political pressures and did what he thought best no matter the
consequences. He typified the mythical western protagonist, but is portrayed by
Mr. Garfield as nothing more than a man—stubborn, sincere, and flawed. He had
friends, enemies, and admirers, but he hid behind a wall of secrecy and
loneliness. He was a man that fit into the demands of an era, but whose era
passed quickly and without much fanfare.
The Lawbringers
manages to does all that and also tell an exciting and tight tale. It has a
peculiar heavy quality. It is packed with emotion and wonder; wonder at the
basis of right and wrong. It has a conscience without being limited or judged
by that conscience. It is complex and wondrous. In short, it is very much part
of that 10 percent, which has allowed the western story to survive for more
than a century.
Ben, I read and greatly enjoyed Hopscotch decades ago after seeing the movie. Seems I then read one or two other Garfield novels, but I can't remember which ones. I might have Death Wish, altho had forgotten who wrote it until just now. But now I want to read The Lawbringers!
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