What secret asian girl is Reading

House of the Rising Sun by James Lee Burke

  First, a confession. I had trouble reading this book. I've 

  never read anything by this author and I really didn't 

  know what to expect but the premise sounding promising so

  in I plunged. As you might have surmised from previous

  postings, I don't have a lot of patience for novels that 

  appear misogynistic, macho, demeaning or condescending. I 

  realize (increasingly more so) that some people enjoy this 

  type of story. I make no apologies that I do not.

   So apparently, James Lee Burke is one of those writers. 

   From the very beginning, there are racially-inspired murders, a whorehouse,  complete with an iconic madam with a heart of gold, alcohol-fueled violence, LOTS of detailed descriptions of firearms told with a reverence usually reserved for saints, and crude language focused on sexual exploits toward women who are usually described based on how her skirt clings to her thighs. Oh...and the Holy Grail. The legendary Cup of Christ in this story was the main reason I was interested since I read a lot of historical novels, some with religious lore as the subject. This book does not in any way fall into that category.

I found myself skimming through most of the book, although there were a few passages with beautiful descriptions of life in the early 20th century West and Trinidad. "The peaks of the mountains disappeared into the clouds, their slopes so immense that the forests in the ravines resembled clusters of emerald-green lichen on gray stone." Unfortunately, these brief, colorful respites were interrupted by tired, clichéd lines like, "I've been rode hard and put away wet, Padré." Ack. 

The protagonist, Hackberry Holland (wow), is an alcoholic, sometime-Texas Ranger with a propensity towards violent solutions, a combination that seems to be almost shrugged off by the author. There's lots of holes put in heads, and bullying or killing but all of that is okay, I supposed, because it's the old west where Man is Man and that's what they do. He's married to Maggie but has a child named Ishmael with a prostitute named Ruby. He spends a lot of time figuring out which one he wants, and of course, both want him. When he gets upset, he rides his horse, which he likes, so hard that the horse collapses. Hack gets off, steps over the animal and looks out over the mesa, contemplating who he will kill next.

There's more where Hackberry chases down his son and there is forgiveness and redemption but I had long lost empathy for the characters so I was pretty much skimming at this point. I never got the part where the Holy Grail came into play although I'm pretty sure that Hackberry shot it in an alcoholic rage.

I've seen this book described as a "classic novel of the West." I don't think so, because I've read some really good western novels that depict life in that era as more than just whiskey and women, although I'll admit, the main female characters here were fairly independent, given the time. Not all books should have modern viewpoints thrust upon them; historical accuracy should take precedence. But just as flagrant use of the "N" word doesn't seem fitting in works written today (another criticism I have of this book) neither does outdated stereotypes of any kind fit into the description of "classic" any more. Perhaps new definitions are needed for all modern genres that no longer fit the tiresome mold.

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