He grimaced, which involved the total disappearance of his eyes and mouth and most of his nose, only the very end of which protruded like one fingertip of a clenched fist wearing a shabby leather glove.But sadly, the rest of the novel is all Crabb, in a dialect that is too well-structured to match the character, and certainly with none of the beauty we get in the introduction. In fact, I didn't care about Crabb at all. He wasn't an interesting character personality-wise, and I just couldn't buy the tall-tale format where he's present at every major event (right beside Custer at his last stand), and knows everyone from wild west legend including Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane etc.
Old Lodge Skins the Indian chief was one of the most interesting characters in the whole novel. And while Crabb has some respect for him, Crabb's view of Indian's in general I think was probably fairly accurate for a white man of the time. This is very far from the Dances With Wolves noble savage romanticized view of Indians:
Indians sure made me sick. I could hardly breathe for the smell inside my own home, where them sloppy women I supported stirred up the muck we was going to eat for supper. We didn’t have no fresh meat, on account of instead of hunting that afternoon I had set and ate dog prepared by my natural wife in the tepee of her unnatural husband.As historical fiction it was fairly interesting to learn more about Custer's military actions, and how Indians were hounded from one place to the next as the trains made the west accessible. Honestly though, the tall-tale format detracted from the historical aspect, leaving me unsure if there was anything real to believe at all.
If you're looking for a western, True Grit and Lonesome Dove are far better reads.
2.5 stars.
