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 | Executive Times | |||
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|  | 2008 Book Reviews | |||
| Fine Just
  the Way It Is: Wyoming Stories 3 by Annie Proulx | ||||
| Rating: | *** | |||
|  | (Recommended) | |||
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|  | Click
  on title or picture to buy from amazon.com | |||
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|  | Devilish The
  nine short stories in Annie Proulx’ latest collection, Fine Just
  the Way It Is: Wyoming Stories 3, are packed with characters and
  descriptions and solid prose that will delight most readers. Even the devil
  makes an appearance. These stories, like the title of one, are fine just the
  way they are. Here’s an excerpt, from the story titled, “Them Old Cowboy
  Songs,” pp. 49-50: A parade of saddle bums drifted
  through the Peck bunkhouse and from an early age Archie listened to the songs
  they sang. He was a quick study for a tune, had a memory for rhymes, verses
  and intonations. When Mrs. Peck went to the land of no breakfast forever,
  caught in a grass conflagration she started while singeing slaughtered
  chickens, Archie was fourteen and Bunk in his early twenties. Without Mrs.
  Peck as buffer, the relationship became one of hired hand and boss. There had
  never been any sense of kinship, fictive or otherwise, between them.
  Especially did Bunk Peck burn over the hundred dollars his mother left Archie
  in her will. Everyone
  in the sparsely settled country was noted for some salty dog quirk or talent.
  Chay Sump had a way with the Utes, and it was to him people went when they
  needed fine tanned hides. Lightning Willy, after incessant practice, shot
  both pistol and carbine accurately from the waist, seemingly without aiming.
  Bible Bob possessed a nose for gold on the strength of his discovery of
  promising color high on the slope of Singlebit Peak. And Archie McLaverty had
  a singing voice that once heard was never forgotten. It was a straight, hard
  voice, the words falling out halfway between a shout and a song. Sad and flat
  and without ornamentation, it expressed things felt but unsayable. He sang
  plain and square-cut, "Brandy's brandy, any way you mix it, a Texian's a
  Texian any way you fix it," and the listeners laughed at the droll way
  he rolled out "fix it," the words surely meaning castration. And
  when he moved into "The Old North Trail," laconic and a little
  hoarse, people got set for half an hour of the true history they all knew as
  he made his way through countless verses. He could sing every song "Go
  Long Blue Dog," and "When the Green Grass Comes," "Don't
  Pull off My Boots," and "Two Quarts of Whiskey," and at all-male
  roundup nights he had endless verses of "The Stinkin
  Cow," "The Buckskin Shirt" and "Cousin Harry." He
  courted Rose singing "never marry no goodfor-nothin boy," the boy
  understood to be himself, the "good-fornothin" a disclaimer.
  Later, with winks and innuendo, he sang, "Little girl, for safety you
  better get branded . . ." Archie, advised by an
  ex-homesteader working for Bunk Peck, used his inheritance from Mrs. Peck to
  buy eighty acres of private land. It would have cost nothing if they had
  filed for a homestead twice that size on public land, or eight times larger
  on desert land, but Archie feared the government would discover he was a
  minor, nor did he want a five-year burden of obligatory cultivation and
  irrigation. Since he had never expected anything from Mrs. Peck, buying the
  land with the surprise legacy seemed like getting it for free. And it was
  immediately theirs with no strings attached. Archie, thrilled to be a
  landowner, told Rose he had to sing the metes and bounds. He started on the
  southwest corner and headed east. It was something he reckoned had to be
  done. Rose walked along with him at the beginning and even tried to sing with
  him but got out of breath from walking so fast and singing at the same time.
  Nor did she know the words to many of his songs. Archie kept going. It took
  him hours. Late in the afternoon he was on the west line, drawing near and
  still singing though his voice was raspy, "an we'll go downtown, an
  we'll buy some shirts . . .," and slouching down the slope the last
  hundred feet in the evening dusk so worn of voice she could hardly hear him
  breathily half-chant "never had a nickel and I don't give a shit." Life
  is hard and Proulx captures life at its best in her stories. Enjoy Fine Just
  the Way It Is. Steve
  Hopkins, October 20, 2008 | |||
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 The recommendation rating for
  this book appeared  in the November 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Fine Just the Way It Is.htm For Reprint Permission,
  Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC •  E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com | |||
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