I just finished a long (843-page) novel in my two-person book club with my friend Wendy. (We alternate choosing propitious books, read them at the same time, and discuss them online.) This one, Lonesome Dove (1985) by Larry McMurtry, turned out to be not only a page-turner, but also one of the finest modern novels I’ve read (it won a Pulitzer for fiction). In fact, I’ve put it in consideration with a few others as The Great American Novel.
What, you ask, are the characteristics of a candidate for the Great American Novel? This is purely subjective, but I’ll give my criteria. It has to be set in America, of course, and display diverse aspects of America and Americans themselves. It has to be epic (i.e., longish and involved), not hew too closely to a heavy-handed theme, contain tragedy and sorrow as well as joy, along with a soupçon of humor. It has to be so American that it could not be set in any other country. And when you finish it, you will have not only a sense of what America was like at a given time, but also a need for your own time to process what you’ve read.
Another novel that I’ve considered as a possible Great American Novel is The Great Gatsby, which we’ve all read in high school. (It’s short, has well-delineated themes, and portrays American ambition.) But it’s not a good candidate as it portrays only a small slice of American life (rich people and obsessive love) and is not an epic, having as it does only a few characters. Another, also by Larry McMurtry, is The Last Picture Show (1971), a fantastic book and an equally fantastic movie—in fact, I think the eponymous movie is the best American or English-language movie ever made. Below is one scene from the movie, which I see as not only archetypically American but full of low-key but intense emotion. (McMurtry co-wrote the screenplay with director Peter Bogdanovich.)
Here Sam the Lion (played by Ben Johnson), who runs the picture show, restaurant, and movie theater in the tiny oil town of Anarene, Texas (modeled on Archer City, pop 1070, where McMurtry lived), takes young Sonny (played by Timothy Bottoms) fishing along with Sam’s mentally disabled son Billy. Sam reminisces about his love for Lois Farrow (played by Ellen Burstyn), who was married when they had an affair.
I think this is the modern and American equivalent of Shakespeare. No, the language isn’t fancy, but the emotions are real and deep. I can’t imagine any non-American equivalent. Johnson won the Oscar that year for Best Supporting Actor:
But I digress, except to say that one of the themes of this movie is similar to that in the novel Lonesome Dove: the attempt of people to stave off loneliness by trying to connect with others, and their inevitable failure to do so.
The plot of Lonesome Dove (which was also made into a 6-part t.v. miniseries) can be seen in extenso at the Wikipedia page. In short, it’s about a group of cowboys who run a livery stable and a horse- and cow-selling operation in the eponymous Texas town. (Time: mid-nineteenth century.) The leaders of the group are a pair of retired Texas Rangers, Captain Woodrow F. Call and Captain Augustus “Gus” McCrae, played respectively in the miniseries by and Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones (great casting!). There’s a shortage of women in Lonesome Dove, and the men patronize :Lorena, the town’s only prostitute—the word in the book is always “whore”—when they need a “poke.”
There are a number of adventures, including a cattle-stealing jaunt to Mexico, but the meat of the plot comprises delineation of the characters, which include a black cowboy, Deets, the moral center of the book and the only man who is wholly admirable. Gus and Call decide to take a big herd of cattle to the distant but lusher plains of Montana, where they envision building a ranch. They take with them all the Hat Creek outfit men, as well as Lorena, who eventually falls in love with Gus. Along the way several other women appear, all having, like the men, frustrated relationships. One woman, Clara, who lives in Nebraska, is the female equivalent of Deets: a moral center, though she’s immensely unhappy.
At any rate, tons of adventures ensue: there are fights with bears and Indians, murders, hangings of horse thieves, duststorms, locust plagues, and moments of happiness. If nothing else, McMurtry shows us that the life of a cowboy was far from romantic. It was hard, dirty, and exhausting.
There are also tragedies and some very sad deaths. The ending just sort of tapers off. . there is no satisfying denouement, and that is good. (McMurtry wrote three other books in the series with prequels and sequels to this book, but I’m not interested in reading them.)
It’s a good candidate for the Great American Novel because, first, you can’t get more American than cowboys depicted at the height of Cowboydom in the mid- to late nineteenth century. But much more than that is the diversity of emotions and characters that make the book as rich as a novel by Dickens—if he wrote a novel with Americans rather than Brits. As my friend Wendy wrote about Gus and Call, “They all were so human, deeply flawed, stubborn, and yet had their own standards and principles. And they kept going, which I think is the American bit of it.”
All I can do is recommend that you read this book, pronto. Its length may overwhelm those who can’t read even short books, but it’s involved, engaging, and wonderful, right up there with All the Light We Cannot See (another Pulitzer winner) as the best piece of modern fiction in English I’ve read in years.
Are there other candidates for the Great American Novel? Yes, Huckleberry Finn is a good one, embodying the characteristics of the genre shown above. I have heard that East of Eden, by Steinbeck, another wholly American epic, is another one, and I plan to read it soon.
Here’s the book that you must read:
Here is McMurtry talking about the book. Note that the cowboys in Lonesome Dove were older than McMurtry describes as typical of the era, with Gus and Call being seniors.
If you click on the screenshot below, you’ll go to a short video showing Robert Duvall claiming that the role of Gus was his favorite—and he had many great roles. Note that he compares Gus to a Shakespearian character. There’s also a scene from the miniseries showing Gus and Call, in which, curiously, Gus reminisces about his lost love Clara. (I haven’t seen the miniseries.) There are parallels with the Sam the Lion scene above.
Now I’ve made my recommendation, but I’m sure I’m missing candidates for the Great American Novel. What would you recommend as the book who takes the title?
William Gaddis wrote TWO of ’em! “The Recognitions” published in 1955, and then “J.R.” after 20 years of almost silence.
John Updike’s 1,500-page “Rabbit Angstrom”. To be sure, the volume consists of four novels, but read as a whole I would put it up as a strong contender.
And for a more recent work, “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay” by Michael Chabon.
“The Amazing Adventures…” has long been on my list.
Is it ok to not like a contender for Great American Novel? I could not finish “Run Rabbit Run”. It’s important for a novel to get a reaction out of the reader, but my main reaction was wanting to smack Rabbit for being a complete and utter dick.
Also it’s useful to think of “Great American Novel” as something like a genre label. And therefore taking an indefinite article “a” (or numerical determiner as in my claim that “Gaddis wrote two Great American Novels”) rather than competing to be “the”.
But not a label to be arbitrarily applied, without regard to meaning of its terms. We still expect to see scope, ambition, and … American-ness.
Sorry to run on, but let me take one more try. I think this point of view is more conducive to asking readers for additional titles.
I took this idea of Great American Novel (GAN) as more like a genre label than a singular award from some online articles I ran across a few years back. I asked Google’s help in trying to locate them, but instead it found a complete book and summarized one of its points (a set of sub-categories for GAN). Here’s that response:
-—–
Treating the “Great American Novel” (GAN) as a persistent narrative type or recurring genre template rather than a single gold-medal title, scholar Lawrence Buell outlines The Dream of the Great American Novel through four structural “scripts”.
The Four GAN Scripts as Genre Conventions
The Master-Text Adaptation: Books like Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (1850) function as a template that later generations constantly rewrite, parody, and react against.
The American Dream Arc: Aspirants like F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925) and Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man (1952) trace an individual’s struggle for transformation from humble origins to social prominence.
The Divided Social Saga: Works like Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) and Toni Morrison’s Beloved (1987) use the multi-generational family framework to confront racial and national fractures.
The Democratic Microcosm: Sprawling mega-novels like Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick (1851) and Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow (1973) pack diverse casts together to mirror the chaos and promise of democracy.
-—–
Probably my suggestions, Gaddis’s first two books, would fall in subcategory 4 — they’re long and have a large cast of characters, and though centered on NYC and one of its Long Island suburbs (respectively) still takes on other scenes in America. One of your mentions, “The Great Gatsby”, is listed in this summary,, in the 2nd subcategory.
My nominee: Shadow Country, author Peter Matthiesson.
“Right up there with All the Light We Cannot See” is high praise – I have put Lonesome Dove on my list.
You won’t be sorry. If you’re daunted by its length, give it a full 100 pages before you decide whether to continue.
I liked The Grapes of Wrath better than East of Eden. I will say, however, that I read East of Eden when I was very young, and I might very well feel differently today if I read it again.
I have read neither Lonesome Dove nor All the Light We Cannot See. Both are now on my list.
While I loved Lonesome Dove, read decades ago, I’ll propose Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian as the great American novel. Themes are cruelty of life and persons, and the land, which McCarthy describes amazingly. Set similarly in the Midwest.
That is a great book, and I always forget it when listing my favorite modern novels. McCarthy had a unique prose style that I loved.
Blood Meridian
I shed a few tears when I finished reading Lonesome Dove, already missing the characters, and the adventure, and the sense of the times. One of the most pleasurable reads of my life.
There is a lot to appreciate about the Frontier, the Code of the West, and the American ethos and spirit of 75 years ago, especially as a man. Easy to see how a good portion of America refuses to say goodbye to The Cowboy.
I read Lonesome Dove in the late 80s and remember trying (and failing) to slow myself down towards the end, hating to part with the characters and the whole backdrop. Maybe I’ll read it again now! The other book in that genre that I recommend highly is All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy. Unforgettable.
I’ll go with Huck Finn, which explores slavery, feuding, and con men: those are pretty darn American!
And it makes Shakespeare funny.
I also have one other candidate, the book Thomas Pynchon called “one of the great American novels”: On the Road.
Hi. First, there is a podcast called The Great American Novel on which a couple of English professors discuss books that might qualify. And like mitch4, they describe it as a genre and have criteria by which to judge the books that are the topic of a given episode.
About two months ago I finished reading Light in August by Faulkner for the fifth (?) time in 50 years. I was amazed by the quality of writing and the characterizations. It loses some dramatic tension in the last two chapters, but I think it is more of a tapering down, as the novel opens with an up-taper. It qualifies. Race is the pivotal theme among others. It’s the exemplar of ‘the past is never dead. It isn’t even past.’
After I read it for the first time I sent my brother-in-law, a copy of Lonesome Dove. He is ranch-raised and had been a at least part time cowboy for much of his early life. He loved it and has seen the TV series several times besides reading the book every few years. I think that this helped the evolution of our relationship from relatives to pretty good friends.
Glad you finally read this one! Been a favorite of mine for 20 or so years. So many great characters throughout. The mini-series is a little dated, but Tommy Lee Jones and Duvall are maybe the most perfectly cast characters I’ve ever seen.
I was unaware of any related books until a few months ago and saw the prequel Comanche Moon in the book store. Don’t bother with that–your instincts are correct. It’s ‘fine,’ but flat compared to Lonesome Dove.
I’m also a big fan of East of Eden; it’s time for a re-read of that. To add to the Cormac McCarthy love fest, No Country for Old Men is also great.
I have too many candidates to list, and Jerry’s suggestions are right up there.. love ‘em all.
Except one. Lonesome Dove is such an exceptional book that it outshines all the others, IMO. And I have to say that the miniseries was well done, contrary to my expectations. Every time I read that book, I am re-astonished at the plot, the quality of the writing, the dialogue. Especially the dialogue. Anyone who has worked on a cattle ranch knows that McMurtry got it exactly right, even though it took place in the later 1860s-early 1870s. (There are references in the dialog to historical events and characters.)
The plot of the novel, by the way, is (very) loosely based on a true story.
I agree 100% on Lonesome Dove. You ought to watch the mini-series, too. It was very faithful to the book and just superb.
As for my nominee for the GAN, it’s The Emigrants Series, by Vilhelm Moberg.
Some people might object to including this book on a list of the GAN. First of all, it isn’t actually a book, but a series of four novels. But since they are in temporal sequence and follow the same characters, that objection can be dismissed.
Second, the author is Swedish, not American, and didn’t even write the books in English. Again, that shouldn’t be disqualifying. What makes it an American novel is the subject matter – immigration to America. Not even cowboys are as quintessentially American as immigrants.
Finally, the Swedes might resent it if Americans claimed The Emigrants as a great American novel, since they repeatedly rank The Emigrants as the greatest Swedish novel ever written. But they’re just a pipsqueak country next to our GREAT nation, so we can ignore them. That’s quintessentially American, too. At least as of late.
Anyway, to cut to the chase: Everything you wrote about LD can be said about The Emigrants, too: it has a rich cast of fully-fleshed out characters, all of whom are very human, but who have no choice but to persist in the struggle to overcome enormous difficulties and tragedies. As your friend, said, that’s “the American bit of it.” Also, Moberg relied extensively on first-person accounts by Swedish immigrants in his writing, so the experiences of the characters in the book are very true to life. Overall, an enthralling read.
As for East of Eden… I’m not at all sure. I just read it recently, and there were things I found off-putting about the book. Some of the characters seemed more mythic than real. But I’m in a minority.
Villhelm Moberg himself lived in the US (in Cal.) for a decade, and like almost every Swede, he had relatives who had immigrated to Minnesota. One aspect of the Swedish immigration that is little remarked is that about one sixth of them returned to Sweden eventually.
I finished East of Eden a few months ago. Love Steinbeck, wasn’t impressed with EoE. The characters’ actions were unbelievable, I reckon Adam and Eve and the “first” family is unbelievable too, but Steinbeck wants readers to believe in his characters, right? The psychotic love sick attributes of Adam were ridiculous. No spoilers, but c’mon, man. Too many characters were either shallow caricatures or exagerated heroes/villains that lasted for a few chapters. Only Lee and Sam were in the realm of Steinbeck’s realized characters, but they seemed forced. Thou mayest! Perhaps you have to believe in the Abrahamic God to have any love for the book or at least respect the traditions Steinbeck seems to think important.
I will say it is a much better read than the book Genesis.
I will add it is the first time I’ve encountered “clitoris” in a classic novel, and it was not used clinically.
One sentence review: It started with an invigorating energy, but didn’t sustain; by the end, I felt stuck in the mud.
Shorter review: Bad sex…or Sex bad…can’t decide
Read and loved “Lonesome Dove” but also enjoyed the prequel “Dead Man’s Walk” which gave the backstory.
Did not know there were two other, “Comanche Moon” which also appears to be a prequel as well as, “Streets of Laredo” which seems to be written before “Lonesome Dove” but after the events in that book (a postquel? Not sure the term here).
Enjoyed LD and DMW so thank for prompting my search. I look forward to more from the story.
My three choices:
Moby Dick, which may not meet Jerry’s criteria as most of the action takes place at sea.
Blood Meridian (mentioned by others.)
Huckleberry Finn
Just started reading William Faulkner, often lauded as one of the greatest American novelists.
So far (I’m almost through “Soldiers’ Pay”), I’m not a huge fan. He seems to take 8 run-on sentences to describe something that Hemingway would have conveyed in one…in fact he seems to be the Anti-Hemingway. Some see a virtuoso on paper; I see someone writing to show off rather than crafting a great novel.
But…Soldiers’ Pay is I believe his first book, and he was quite young when he wrote it. Any recommendations for Faulkner…I’m willing to give him another go.
A Light in August…Joe Christmas…can’t go wrong there. The church scene is unforgetable and as an atheist, always makes me guffah. Could I do that? no way. It’s a tragic tale…Southern gothic at its finest.
Listened to the unabridged audiobook of Lonesome Dove and it kept me sitting in my car in the driveway many an evening because I couldn’t bear to turn it off after listening to it on my way home from work. Like others it made me cry buckets in parts and buy the prequel and sequel which were as mediocre as others described.
Parenthetically, Chip and Joanna Gaines of Fixer Upper fame bought all the books (remaining books?) in Larry McMurtry’s bookstore with the intention of using them in a boutique hotel they restored in Waco, Texas.
Has anyone read the novel “A Confederacy of Dunces” by John Kennedy Toole? Highly entertaining, and it captures New Orleans characters and diction perfectly.
I did read “A Confederacy of Dunces” quite some time ago. I also remember it being quite entertaining.
I started it several years ago, but (I don’t remember why) emphatically gave up on it.
I love this novel and have read it, even taught it, several times over. The dialogue, the characters, the setting are uniquely American. And it has an appalling antihero. What could define the genre more than that?
I’m glad someone brought up Faulkner, who clearly influenced any number of contemporary writers, including Toni Morrison. As I Lay Dying and The Sound and the Fury are among the best novels of the 20th century, surely.
I love this novel and have read it, even taught it, several times over. The dialogue, the characters, the setting are uniquely American. And it has an appalling antihero. What could define the genre more than that?
I’m glad someone brought up Faulkner, who clearly influenced any number of contemporary writers, including Toni Morrison. As I Lay Dying and The Sound and the Fury are among the best novels of the 20th century, surely.
Ignatius J. Reilly is certainly an antihero, but I don’t find him appalling! Just altogether human.
Whatever he is, he’s unforgettable.
Oh, yes! A Confederacy of Dunces is a thoroughly wonderful book.
Lonesome Dove is a masterpiece. McMurtry was often like a factory churning out trivial entertainment novels. (The sequels and prequels to Lonesome Dove are examples of this.) But when he wanted to, he achieved greatness. I’d like to draw particular attention to his depiction of violence: when it happens, it’s swift and horrific. In this respect, he’s like Cormac McCarthy or Sam Peckinpah.
The original TV miniseries is also excellent. Although the TV production is a bit cheap and choppy in places, the majesty of the story, along with Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones, more than make up for any shortcomings.
One more plug for Huck Finn, from the pen of Ernest Hemingway in Green Hills of Africa: “All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. American writing comes from that. There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since.”