Abstract
186 Western American Literature an old man, still embittered against the fanatics who permitted mob rule to kill forty-four of the citizens of Milcourt, the fictionalized setting. His sentimental and emotionally laden account details much of what happened in historical Gainesville, although Clark bends history and factual detail to fit the fictional circumstances, sometimes leaving his story at sea with regard to probability. The centerpiece of the story, for example, is Todd’s quick, sexy, and improbable love affair with the head Rebel’s niece. The elder Todd describes every detail of his emotional trauma, sometimes giving a second-by-second account of what he felt, why he felt it, what he might have felt otherwise, etc. Clark’s attempt to approximate period vernacular renders many figures as caricatures in both their villainy and tender nostalgic remembrance. Todd’s inexorable analysis of every detail is often tedious, as is his self-recrimination, agitation, and passion. He witnesses horrendous catastro phe with calm acceptance compared to his anguish over social faux pas and verbal missteps. Further, Todd’s incessant and vicious attacks on the Confederacy, although possibly accurate in reflection of the anti-secessionist’s position, is unrelieved by any nobility of purpose on the part of the Rebels, nor any tragic sense of misguided and overzealous prosecution of law in a confused and terrible time. In Todd’s opinion, Confederates are only slightly better than bushwhackers, who are Unionists. Clark also plays fast and loose with historical detail, endowing Todd with a Spencer repeater, for example. Unaccountably, he increases the number of executed men from forty-two to forty-four, and his Milcourt has many more civilized appointments than existed in frontier-post Gainesville, which didn’t erect a courthouse until the 1870s. Although from time to time Todd rises to eloquence in his account, such poetic passages as appear here and there are routed by such observations as “At long last, it turned late in the day,” reinforced by more numerous descriptions of weeping than have been seen in any book not labelled “Romance.” In all, then, this fictional account of tragedy is more melodrama than tragedy. It’s far less interesting than the factual account published in 1963 by the Southwest Historical Quarterly. One wishes that Clark had forsaken the recol lected emotional trauma of a beardless youth and given a more exacting fictional twist to this horrible affair. CLAY REYNOLDS Denton, Texas &host Woman: A Novel. By Lawrence Thornton. (New York: Ticknor and Fields, 1992. 302 pages, $19.95.) Ghost Woman begins with an actual historical incident: an Indian woman Reviews 187 who has been living alone for years on San Nicholas Island is discovered and brought to Santa Barbara. From this point on, the novel travels to Never-Never Land. Thornton has an American town, a mission with Indians, and ranchos all functioning simultaneously in a historical time warp that is utterly absurd. The historical backdrop of this novel is so distorted and such a mishmash of misin formation that one wonders why it was not subjected to more rigorous editorial review. Stereotypes abound in the novel. O ’Reilly is the local Irish drunk. The American doctor is corrupt, ready to perform abortions at the drop of a hat. The Hispanic soldiers are all “unhappy conscripts,” whose “wives and lovers were back in desert villages,”which is a patent falsehood; the Spanish/Mexican soldiers in Santa Barbara almost to a man came with their spouses. Anything seems to go in this novel, the point of which seems to be to tell us that Spanish and American civilizations were immoral and disgusting macho cultures, while the Indians had a wonderful religion and lived wonderful lives. I can’t imagine a world more simplistic than portrayed in this morality play. Author Thornton, in an interview in Coastlines (Summer 1992), mentions the background research he did while working on Ghost Woman: “While the historical documents were useful in providing details about the Chumash and the Franciscans, my major source was photographs and drawings. I find that images open up my imagination, whereas documents tend to close it down.” One wishes he would have spent a little more time with...
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