Black Hills by Dan Simmons (unabridged audio book read by Erik Davies and Michael McConnohie)

Sometimes a book is simply so good that it exceeds my ability to write about it. Everything I write sounds dumb because it's just superlative, superlative, superlative, and it all gets redundant after a while. And often the best books are hard to summarize because so much happens in them that trying to outline it with any semblance of thoroughness is likely to give away surprises.

As you've probably guessed by now, Black Hills is one of those books. Dan Simmons is one of the most interesting authors writing today. You just never know what to expect from him, and his three most recent novels show this most admirably. They display the potentials of historical fiction in a way usually unseen in the work of a single author.

The Terror was pure horror about a stranded ship and the mysterious creature that stalks it, and Drood was a thriller concerning Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens. Both were distinctly British.

Then came the last thing I expected: a Western. But Black Hills is really only part Western, with a twist. The opening is instantly engaging. As Paha Sapa, an 11-year-old Lakota whose name means "Black Hills" (a rare event as Lakota are almost never named after sacred locations), "counts coup" on the dying George Armstrong Custer at the Battle of Little Bighorn in the summer of 1876, the ghost of the infamous commander invades the young Sioux.

Almost instantly, his head is soon filled by Custer's remembrances of his sexual dalliances with his beloved wife Libby. Custer's spirit fills Paha Sapa's nights with recitations (in the unfamiliar language of the whites) of all his memories. (If you ever wanted to hear a poetic play-by-play of Custer's dalliances with his wife, this is the book for you.) Paha Sapa will hear Custer's voice in his head for most of the rest of his life.

Black Hills jumps around in Paha Sapa's life, covering his name-change to Billy Slow Horse and Billy Slovak, his courtship with the beautiful Rain, his strife to solely destroy the three faces on Mount Rushmore before the fourth can be placed, his time in Buffalo Bill Cody's Wild West Show, and so many other events that they begin to run together.

Simmons is so interested in giving the listener the full scope of Paha Sapa's life that his writing sometimes gets in the way of his storytelling — much as his need to present all the facts often supersedes the development of his fiction. But in combining the two — in creating a wholly believable world wherein the grounded, the spiritual, and the made-up coexist seamlessly — Simmons produces in Black Hills a shining example of what historical fiction can achieve when approached with verisimilitude.

Merkabah Rider: The Mensch with No Name by Edward M. Erdelac (weird Western novella collection)

This review is going to be pretty lame, but it has nothing to do with the quality of the book being reviewed (if such a word can be used here). It is purely due to my lack of organization. As an old-fashioned sort of fellow, I write out my reviews in longhand on a notepad, taking notes and fashioning opinions in the midst of reading the book.

Unfortunately, however, in the case of Merkabah Rider: The Mensch with No Name by author Edward M. Erdelac, after my review was written — but before I had the opportunity to transcribe it here — I lost it.

I was keeping it inside the book, as usual, and when I went to get the book and bring it to the computer, the paper wasn't there. Couldn't find it anywhere. I looked up and down for days. And, almost worse, when I attempted to recreate what I had written, I was unable.

But The Mensch with No Name deserves a review of some kind because it's quite a good read. If you enjoyed the first book in the series, the fantastic Tales of a High Planes Drifter (which made my Best of 2010 list) — and if you haven't read it, you definitely should before tackling this sequel — then you will enjoy this one.

If you're completely unfamiliar with the concept, read the review of that book for the basics, and transpose those superlatives to this one. With Merkabah Rider: The Mensch with No Name, Erdelac confirms my original impression that he has joined the ranks of Robert E. Howard (whose creation Nameless Cults is referenced, much like his "Kelly the Conjure-Man" inspired a tale in the first collection) and Joe R. Lansdale, two of my favorite authors and the kings of the weird Western. I look eagerly forward to further Rider adventures, and hopefully I'll be a little more careful with my notes next time.

Deadman's Road by Joe R. Lansdale (Reverend Jedidiah Mercer collection)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2010. Reprinted with permission.

This collection from "champion mojo storyteller" Joe R. Lansdale gathers all his stories to date featuring his cult-favorite character Reverend Jedidiah Mercer, including the complete novel featuring his debut appearance, Dead in the West. This limited edition hardcover from Subterranean Press also offers evocative cover art from Timothy Truman and over 20 interior illustrations by Glenn Chadbourne.

Dead in the West was, to my knowledge, the first zombie Western. Lansdale wrote it back in 1986 as a tribute to the kind of entertainment he grew up enjoying, like EC Comics and cross-genre B-movies like Billy the Kid Versus Dracula and Jesse James Meets Frankenstein's Daughter (both real movies, I assure you).

Reverend Jedidiah Mercer is a man of God ... sort of. He hasn't exactly been following the straight and narrow path lately, spending a good portion of his collection on whiskey. But arriving in Mud Creek changes things a bit. After an unmistakable sign from above, in addition to some soul searching of his own, the Reverend decides to get back on the right track the next Saturday, when he'll be hosting a tent revival -- if he can resist the temptations coming his way.

But what's a man supposed to do when that's the week the dead start rising from their graves? Kick some undead hind-tail, that's what! Dead in the West takes no time in getting started: the first death occurs on the fourth page. From there on, we are treated to a thorough character study combined with a thrill ride. Why the dead chose this week to resurrect themselves, and what kind of unsavory temptations may get in the way of the Reverend's redemption, are just two of the questions answered in this exciting short novel with more than its fair share of cowboys smashing brains.

This cross of horror and Western does justice to both. And yet, Dead in the West remains purely a Lansdalean effort, with the same level of horror, humor, and down-home realism that has made him so popular among other writers as well as his rabid cult of fans (in particular, his ability to frighten and amuse simultaneously while delivering folksy homilies).

Also included in Deadman's Road are two stories, the titular "Deadman's Road" and "The Gentlemen's Hotel," previously collected in The Shadows, Kith & Kin), the previously uncollected "The Crawling Sky" (from the terrific anthology Son of Retro Pulp Tales), and a brand-new short, "The Dark Down There."

"Deadman's Road" has Reverend Mercer confronting a ghoul, and "The Gentleman's Hotel" involves werewolves. "The Crawling Sky" concerns a caged lunatic, a house with "haints," a magic book, and a man-eating Shmoo. "The Dark Down There" finds the Reverend meeting up with an obese woman named Flower and a mine that is loaded with silver and populated by kobolds (goblins). Jedidiah and Flower form a partnership since fear is unlikely to overtake both of them at the same time, and go up to the mine to see what they can see. The story ends on a high point, an unexpected result in these stories.

Mercer is a wholly original character with his own set of rules. He's not always nice, but he doesn't put up with nonsense (threaten to kill him and he'll not wait for you to follow through before acting in self-defense), and he often makes a lot of sense. These stories are some of the best work the weird Western genre has to offer, and it's good to see them all collected in a single volume with Deadman's Road.

Merkabah Rider: Tales of a High Planes Drifter by Edward M. Erdelac (weird Western novella collection)

I've recently developed an appreciation for the "weird Western," defined generally as a Western with supernatural elements. The first one I remember reading was Joe R. Lansdale's early novel Dead in the West, which features a zombie attack on a small settlement. Lansdale later wrote for the legendary comic Jonah Hex and is known as one of the main progenitors of the subgenre, along with the astonishingly prolific and influential Robert E. Howard.

Recently, I reviewed Paul Green's Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns, and it really opened my eyes to all that has been and can be called a weird Western, from Star Wars, Avatar, and Firefly to Edgar Rice Burroughs's John Carter series, Lynne Reid Banks's Indian in the Cupboard books, and TV's The Wild, Wild West. I have since spent a good deal of time pursuing new reading.

Merkabah Rider: Tales of a High Planes Drifter is a quartet of connected novellas set in 1879 by author Edward M. Erdelac. When the Merkabah Rider comes into town, he is unmistakable as a Jew with his black clothing, long beard, flat-brimmed hat, and curly payos (forelocks). But this Hasidic gunslinger is a mystic who can leave his body and kick ass with his Volcanic pistol on the astral plane — actually better than he does on the terrestrial plane. (Merkabah refers to the prophet Ezekiel's vision of an angel-driven chariot.)

Erdelac does a fantastic job threading Jewish mysticism and otherworldliness into what is otherwise a very authentic traditional Western. Merkabah Rider contains four "tales of a high planes drifter," each of which stands on its own yet tells a continuing story that builds as it progresses.

Obviously inspired by the television series Kung Fu, Merkabah Rider showcases a lone figure — the last of his order — traveling with his onager (as unshorn as The Rider's own payos) on the search for his teacher. He stops in various locales in the Arizona Territory and, like a Hasidic Mike Hammer, helping people by taking on responsibilities that aren't his because of a powerful sense of right and wrong. Then he stoically continues on his way. This conceit leaves a lot of room for varying kinds of stories, and Erdelac takes advantage of the flexibility.

The first "episode," "The Blood Libel," sees The Rider entering the town of Delirium Tremens (I said it was good; I didn't say it was subtle) in the midst of a rash of child kidnappings supposedly perpetrated by the residents of the nearby Jewish settlement. The Rider learns of idol worshipers and must confront the leader in the way only he can. Erdelac keeps the suspense high, especially after the Rider transcends his physical form and must finish his task and get back before some pissed-off locals lynch his unresponsive body.

In "The Dust Devils," a dust storm sends the Rider and his onager seeking shelter in nearby Polvo Arido ("dry dust"), where a bandito jefe and a brujo negro rule with evil intent. The magic man's demonic dust storm was supposed to keep people out, so the pair knows they need to get rid of this powerful intruder before he discovers their secret. But The Rider has help, too, and he's ready for a supernatural showdown.

"Hell's Hired Gun" finds The Rider stopping at a mission for water and instead finding all the residents brutally murdered -- the handiwork of one Medgar Tooms, whom the cerdos malos follow. An old priest with a heavy sin on his head is on hand to help. And "The Nightjar Women" sees The Rider in Tip Top, where demon babies are born dead and no children survive. It is a place where a lovely lady can be both a joy and a horror.

Merkabah Rider manages a wonderful balance of physical, intellectual, and spiritual conflicts, providing plenty of action on multiple planes. Visits from the demon Molech, legendary first woman Lilith, a future Mrs. Wyatt Earp, and even Robert E. Howard's "Kelly the Conjure-Man" heighten the experience.

In each episode, the reader learns more details about the history of The Rider and his master, who is difficult to locate because even The Rider only knew him as Adon ("Lord"). Knowing one's real name gives someone power over you, so when The Rider meets an entity who knows his, he knows he's in trouble. We also learn why the Rider is looking for Adon and what the master did that was so bad along with our hero's real name.

The stories contained in Merkabah Rider: Tales of a High Planes Drifter are intelligent and gripping, with enough action to escape and enough history and mysticism to educate. The four novellas combine to create a fully engrossing cycle that combines research and fiction skillfully; the facts never feel "pasted in." Erdelac show himself to be a potential new addition to the ranks of Howard and Lansdale, and I look eagerly forward to further adventures of this last Son of the Essenes so I can follow this thoroughly engaging and original character on even more astral adventures.

Wilderness by David Robbins writing as David Thompson (mountain man series of Western novels)

The first of David Robbins's Wilderness novels (published under the pseudonym David Thompson) that I read was number one: King of the Mountain, which tells of Nate King's journey west (accompanied by his uncle Zeke) away from his old life to begin a new one in the mountains in 1828. The next one I read was a lot more recent. And I've got to tell you: skipping around in a series is asking for confusion.

Fifty-nine books later, a lot has happened. At first, I was confused and thought that the character of Zach that plays the main role in The Outcast (#60 in the series) was the uncle from King of the Mountain — Zach, Zeke: you see the problem — but it turns out he is Nate's grown son by his wife Winona. (In fact, Nate is not even in this book, except by mention.)

Since Winona is full-blooded Shoshone, Zach's half-breed status lends him a notoriously hot temper. So, when his own (pregnant) wife, Louisa, is kidnapped by a Blood Indian cast out from his tribe for an "unthinkable" act, somebody's going to die! Meanwhile, a small band of Tun-kua (Heart Eaters) are on the hunt for vengeance, and Shakespeare McNair nurses his Flathead wife, Blue Water Woman, back to health after she is injured trying to rescue Louisa.

Author David Robbins's Westerns have a devoted following of both male and female readers, which is surprising for a genre believed to have a primarily male fan base (older-male judging by the sheer number of large-print titles available). Some suggest Robbins's more balanced readership is because of the genuine emotion his characters show for one another, and this may be true, but a good story also simply transcends gender.

The Outcast has characters that are devoted to one another, and this speaks to the traditional (some would say "old-fashioned") expectations of couples: the man wants to protect, and the woman wants the security of protection. At the same time, the action rarely lets up, with another conflict arising as soon as the last one has been surmounted.

The saga of the King family (plus McNair) is now almost 20 years old, and Robbins / Thompson shows no signs of slowing down. (In addition to his Wilderness books, he is also the primary writer for the Trailsman series of action Westerns published under the house name Jon Sharpe, as well as others under his own name.)

I was already looking forward to reading my next Wilderness, wherever in the series it took place, when I learned that #62, The Tears of God, was inspired by one of Robbins's favorite writers, Robert E. Howard. As Howard is also one of my favorites, I instantly knew that one had to be next. Interestingly, the cover of Tears of God was previously used on a Trailsman novel, Colorado Carnage, which was also written by Robbins.)

On a search for his daughter Evelyn, Nate King and his friend Shakespeare McNair (so nicknamed for his predilection of quoting the Bard at opportune moments, and otherwise) find she's been escorted by Jeremiah Blunt, who is taking supplies to a group of Shakers in the Valley of Skulls — a "no man's land" so desolate, dangerous, and "evil" that even the Indians avoid it.

Nate sends Evelyn home with Shakespeare and offers to guide Blunt to the Valley since he knows the area and its dangers. But it's Nate's presence that endangers them first because they run into Kuruk, a Pawnee whose uncle Nate killed in self-defense, and Kuruk and some of his friends want revenge. The Shakers don't know what they're in for, though they believe everything is "God's will" even as one of their number is eaten by a grizzly. And Nate tries to encourage them to stay safe, even as he continues to defend himself from Kuruk's attacks.

I definitely see the Robert E. Howard influence in the Valley of Skulls, and though everything can be given a natural explanation, there is a definite air of the supernatural throughout The Tears of God, which would also put it firmly in "weird Western" territory. (Paul Green, author of the Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns, would no doubt file it under the "weird menace Western.")

The Tears of God takes up the story after #61, The Scalp Hunters, but my enjoyment of it did not diminish from not having read that book. One of the main draws of the series is how Robbins/Thompson captures both the adventure and danger of life in the wilderness. He does not shy away from the realities. When the hungry grizzly attacks a Shaker woman, we see the aftermath fully. It's a shocking, even horrific, scene and one that does not judge the bear or the woman. That kind of even-handed writing is rare, and is one reason I'll continue to seek out these books.

Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns by Paul Green (reference/analysis)

This review originally appeared in somewhat different form on The Green Man Review. Copyright 2010. Reprinted with permission.

Traditional Westerns offer some of the best reading around, but an enthusiast also appreciates a blending of genres now and then. Westerns with crime-fiction tropes are fairly easy to find; that's just your average historical mystery with a different setting — and what Western doesn't include some sort of crime? But what about tales of the Old West that have horrific or supernatural elements? For that, you have to go to the "Weird Western."

But once you have decided to pursue more of this relatively obscure subgenre, where do you find more? Apart from coming across one accidentally, or finding the rare like-minded individuals to offer recommendations, it is hard to know where to look. Luckily, author Paul Green has solved that problem for the time being with his Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns.

From the beginning, it is clear that Green has an affection for his work. In the preface, he states that the Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns "covers the history of [the genre, dating] back over 150 years." But he also warns that the reader will not find only classics within, that the quality "ranges from top-class and innovative to repetitive and formulaic," and that he has not left out works that "might be considered in bad taste or offensive. The weird by definition attracts the weird."

Green has compiled hundreds of titles and authors of (and characters from) Weird Western stories, novels, movies, TV shows, comics, video games, and more. He covers the gamut from the only slightly weird to the truly odd, from early dime novels to current role-playing games, dividing them all into six basic categories: the Weird Western (with horror and fantasy elements), the Weird Menace Western (supernatural events with a rational explanation), the Space Western ("cowboy with a ray gun" — probably the most popular with the mainstream, it includes such favorites as Edgar Rice Burroughs's John Carter series, Star Wars, Firefly, and the recent Avatar), the Science Fiction Western (future technology, aliens, or post-apocalyptic themes — Green includes a very thorough rundown of The Wild, Wild West), the Steampunk Western (incorporating Victorian technology), and the inevitable Weird Western Romance (which is fairly self-explanatory; it seems like every genre has its "romance" offshoot).

Most surprising to this reader, all ages are represented, from the Indian in the Cupboard books and Four Feather Falls TV series for children, to the Djustine comic books for adults — a combination of the Marquis de Sade and the spaghetti Western that details the "sexually graphic adventures of the large-breasted female gunslinger and her fight with the supernatural including zombies, vampires, and Diabla, daughter of Satan." (I can hear the keyboards tapping into search engines already. That's one sure thing about Weird Western enthusiasts: the more outlandish it is, the better we like it.)

Given Green's experience as a comics artist (Marvel UK, DC Egmont, Golden Books USA) and a TV historian (A History of Television's The Virginian, 1962–1971), it's not surprising that the Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns focuses more on visual media than on more traditional stories and novels — though it could simply be a case of "weirdness" being more acceptable in visual form. Green even makes sure to include Western-centered episodes of otherwise non-Western TV shows, like Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, Highlander, and Star Trek: The Next Generation (you've got to love that holodeck!).

It is very easy to get lost in the Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns, so make sure to set aside a good deal of time when you pick it up to "just look something up." There are plenty of discoveries awaiting, and some old favorites to revisit. I'm sure some favorites have been inevitably omitted (the one I noticed was Steve Vernon's zombie buffalo novella Long Horn, Big Shaggy), but even Green is aware of this. As a supplement, he has created a weblog, called Weird Westerns, where he posts news and reviews of more recent titles. Jump on the robotic-horse-drawn stagecoach and ride into the world of the Weird Western.

A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs (first of the Barsoom / John Carter series)

Former Confederate captain John Carter, left with no means of income after the war, heads to Arizona and strikes a quartz mine. Trying to rescue his partner from Apaches, Carter takes a wrong turn and comes to a cave, in which he finds a large room, where he is overthrown by a paralytic gas. With a supreme effort, he attempts to move his muscles, but instead his spirit/soul/whatever leaves his body, and he thus exits the cave completely naked. Staring out at the night sky, Carter sees the planet Mars and feels called to by the god of war. He reaches out his arms, senses cold and darkness, and opens his eyes "upon a strange and weird landscape. I knew that I was on Mars."

If you can get past that extreme leap of faith, the rest of A Princess of Mars is pretty easy to stomach. Author Edgar Rice Burroughs (author also of the numerous Tarzan stories) peoples his debut novel (expanded from the short story "Under the Moons of Mars" and serialized in All-Story before being published as a novel in 1919) with characters that are easy to identify with, though they happen to be green-skinned Martians. Though I had long heard of the stories, I was first intrigued to try this one due to its being listed in the Encyclopedia of Weird Westerns, which stated that it falls firmly into the subcategory of Space Western (the same category under which Star Wars falls).

It was primarily this, but also the fact that I had enjoyed Tarzan when I read it so long ago, that led me to seek it out — preferably in audio, through which I do most of my literary experimentation. I found the Books In Motion audio at the library. Jack Sondericker reads A Princess of Mars from the perspective of time, much as the early part of the novel suggests. His voice is that of an man much older than the protagonist, leading a semblance of retrospective realism to this fantastic tale. (The Librivox audio is also a solid interpretation, with Mark Nelson offering a professional-quality reading that can be downloaded for free.)

Because of the lighter gravity of Mars ("Barsoom" to the locals), Carter finds himself a superman among his new neighbors, able to leap 30 feet in the air and 100 feet away when threatened. The early chapters of A Princess of Mars are mostly given to writing of the expository sort, involving Carter's observations of the strange details of Martian life, peppered throughout with feats of his prowess, which impresses the seemingly unemotional Martians in the only way important to them. Carter even becomes a chieftain of the Tharks after defeating one of them.

I don't usually get into books filled with made-up names and long descriptions of the differences between Earth and whatever planet the story happens to be set on, but Burroughs manages to make it interesting through sheer imagination, with just enough things not so different to balance the very different. A Princess of Mars is such a mythic success at this, it is impossible not to get involved in the exploits of John Carter and the female prisoner he comes across, who looks very different from the green-skinned Martians and who turns out to be Dejah Thoris, red-skinned princess of Helium.

The rest of the book involves the duo's escape from Thark, as they fall for each other, get separated, then reunited, and eventually make a go of it. The ending would be a downer if I didn't know that there are numerous sequels, the first of which is The Gods of Mars. But if you're looking for a full reading experience, with plenty of action, adventure, and even romance, you'd do well to pick up a copy of A Princess of Mars.