The full title of W. Michael Farmer’s novel, The Iliad of Geronimo, A Song of Blood and Fire, tells us not only the subject but also the substance of the story. The poetic ring of the subtitle reflects the author’s premise that the events of Geronimo’s life in the ten years prior to his surrender to General Nelson Miles echo the themes of Homer’s Iliad.
They are both definitely stories of blood and of fire in the bones, as well as loyalty, betrayal, frustration, and triumph. My initial reaction to this premise is that the echoes didn’t run very deep. It seemed to me that the Trojans and Greeks of Homer’s epic were more culturally similar than were the Apaches and the Americans and Mexicans they fought. But as I reflected on the two tales, I began to realize that they actually are very alike. In both stories, the two sides cling to their deep antipathy toward the other and rarely acknowledge the pain their enemy has experienced. They also exhibit knee jerk suspicions of each others’ motivations and a deep unwillingness to see their opponents as individuals. In addition, in-fighting among their own subgroups weakens the group’s likelihood of success.
There are also differences between the two sagas. For example, unlike the Greeks and Trojans, the Apache way of life was based on raiding, a concept that looked remarkably like stealing to the Americans and Mexicans, regardless of the fact that they themselves had stolen the Apache homeland. The dissimilarity in perspective is perhaps best illustrated by an incident toward the end of The Iliad of Geronimo. When Geronimo and his band delay their final return from Mexico in order to “collect” a herd of cattle with which to begin their new life on the reservation, the Americans make them give the animals back. Geronimo is furious. It looks to him like the U.S. Army is once again setting the Apache up to live in poverty and subjection. He went to a lot of work to get that herd!
The way Farmer tells this and other events from the ten years covered by this book brings Geronimo vividly to life and helps us see him as a human being who grew up with one set of rules only to have them whipped out from beneath him and replaced with another before he had time to adjust.
I recommend this book. If you’ve already read W. Michael Farmer’sThe Odyssey of Geronimo, this novel will help you appreciate the events of that story more fully. If you haven’t read The Odyssey, I recommend you acquire both books and start with this one.The Iliad will show you Geronimo slowly coming to grips with the fact that new rules now apply, whether he wants them to or not. The Odyssey will show you how well he ended up adapting to and using them for his own purposes.
W. Michael Farmer’s The Odyssey of Geronimois one of those rare books, a true biographical fiction that doesn’t sugar-coat the less comfortable characteristics of its protagonist.
I find the title of this book, with its homage to the Odyssey of Homer, especially appealing. Like Homer’s hero, Farmer’s is also a wily man whose actions do not always seem admirable to us today. And yet he lingers in our consciousness. Even though we don’t quite know how to think about it, his story endures. Geronimo, an Apache warrior whose deeds of war made him feared across the American Southwest, continued in captivity and beyond to exert a powerful influence on the American psyche, as Odysseus’s has on the European imagination.
The Odyssey of Geronimo provides context for the old warrior’s actions before, during, and after his capture, and draws an illuminating portrait of a man who spent twenty-three years bridging the gap between his culture and the one he was thrust into by circumstances beyond his control.
This is a book about survival, with all its complexities. I highly recommend it.
The San Augustin: The Two Valleys Saga, Book Two by Mary Armstrong continues the journey of Jesús Messi, fictional nephew of real-life Colonel Albert J. Fountain, attorney in late 1800s Mesilla, New Mexico and nemesis of cattle rustlers throughout the region.
Jesús’s story began in The Mesilla, when he joined the Fountain family to read law with the Colonel. It continues in The San Augustin as Jesús learns about love and politics as well as law. He plays a growing role in Fountain’s burgeoning practice, meets the young but already ambitious Albert Bacon Fall, and experiences a growing sense of danger as Fall and other men who’ll be blamed for the 1896 disappearance of the Colonel and his young son become active in New Mexico’s Mesilla and Tularosa valleys.
The second of a projected five-book series, The San Augustinmoves the Fountain saga along while also allowing the reader to get to know Jesús and the Fountain family more thoroughly. If you’re interested in the history of southern New Mexico and/or the Fountain disappearances, I recommend this book!
For many Americans, the stagecoach symbolizes the 1800s in the West. And yet, stage mail and passenger service to Santa Fe lasted just thirty years, from 1850 to 1880. In that time, the route grew shorter and shorter, as the railroad crept toward New Mexico and finally ended the stagecoach era completely.
Morris F. Taylor’s book First Mail West: Stagecoach Lines on the Santa Fe Trailtells that story and much more. It begins with equine transport of military dispatches and goes on to describe when and how the first Post Office Department contracts were put in place and the many details connected with the mail stage system.
But this is not a dry fact-and-figures kind of book. It’s filled with the names of people associated with New Mexico history—the Bent brothers, David Waldo, Ceran St. Vrain, William W.H. Davis, Kit Carson, Governors Lane and Meriwether, and many more. It also identifies lesser-known individuals, including the stage conductors and drivers, and provides fascinating glimpses into life along the route to Santa Fe—descriptions of the stage stops, how they were operated, the people who ran them, and the dangers they encountered. In addition, because the stage had connections into Denver, there’s a good overview of the early Colorado mine fields and the towns that sprang up around them.
First Mail Westis a pleasure to read and full of information you never realized you wanted to know. I recommend it to anyone researching New Mexico and Colorado history in the 1846-1880 time frame and also to those who’d simply like another approach to Old West history.
If you recognize the name Albert Fountain, you’ll almost certainly associate him with his disappearance in the New Mexico desert in 1896 along with his eight-year-old son. And that’s probably almost everything you know about the man.
But Fountain’s disappearance happened as the result of events that took place well before that early February day. In fact, he’d been a polarizing figure in southern New Mexico for a number of years. He’d defended Billy the Kid in court and made other decisions that brought attention to himself—and not necessarily in a good way.
Mary Armstrong’s novel The Mesilla provides a fictional account of some of the events in Fountain’s career prior to his disappearance. This story, the first in Armstrong’s Two Valleys Saga series, centers around Fountain’s defense of Bronco Sue, a woman who was accused of killing her husband, one of a series of men she’d cohabitated with. The courtroom scenes alone are worth the price of this book.
Armstrong has clearly done her homework. The novel is packed with information and anecdotes about New Mexico’s Mesilla and Tularosa Valleys in the late 1800s, which she feeds seamlessly into the story line. If you’re interested in the history of these areas or are just looking for a well-written historical novel, I recommend The Mesilla.
What picture comes to your mind when you hear the words “Santa Fe Trail”? American merchants with wagons full of merchandise heading west and returning with money in their pockets, right? Well, there’s more to that story, and Susan Calafate Boyle’s book Los Capitalistashelps to provide that additional information.
So they did. By 1840, Hispanos were major participants in the trade along the Santa Fe Trail, with extensive trade and financing relationships as far east as New York, London, and Paris. Los Capitalistasexplains those relationships and the types of merchandise New Mexican merchants conveyed back and forth and, in the process, expands our understanding of New Mexico.
The ricos of New Mexico saw pretty early on that hauling merchandising over the Trail could work both ways. After all, they were already taking wool, woven goods, and other items to Chihuahua, Sonora, and other points south. Extending their freighting operations east was the next logical step.
Los Capitalistasis written in a clear, matter-of-face style that conveys a great deal of information and provides a glimpse of New Mexico that most of us haven’t seen before, and is an important book for understanding the history of the Southwest as well as an enjoyable read. I recommend it!
Those of you who’ve read more than one of my Old New Mexico books may have noticed that I have a special fondness for William Sherley Williams, better known as “Old Bill”.
My initial introduction to Old Bill was through Old Bill Williams, Mountain Man by Alpheus H. Favour. Although written in the 1930s and somewhat infected with the era’s attitudes towards America’s First Peoples, this book still manages to provide a glimpse into Old Bill’s more progressive attitudes.
The red-headed gawky Williams left his Missouri home in his teens to live with the Osage Indians. There he married, found work with the Baptist missionaries to the Osage, then broke with his employers when he decided that Osage spirituality was more meaningful and insightful than the missionaries’.
A skilled linguist, he developed the first Osage-English dictionary and is said to have spoken at least five different languages. After his wife’s death, Williams moved west, guiding the Santa Fe Trail Survey, trapping, hunting buffalo, and scouting. Querulous and opinionated, Old Bill preferred trapping alone in places he refused to divulge to anyone else. He would eventually die as the result of John C. Fremont’s ill-fated fourth expedition through the southern Rockies in the middle of winter.
There are various summaries of Williams’ life. I have yet to find anything as detailed and extensive as Favour’s Old Bill Williams, Mountain Man. I recommend it.
Do you know what an hourglass valley is? Or a long-lot field? These are just two of the many terms defined in one of my favorite books, Home Ground, Language for an American Landscape. Edited by Barry Lopez and Debra Gwartney, this book is a treasure trove of words that describe the outdoor spaces around us.
One of the things that makes Home Ground different from other dictionaries is that its definitions were provided by writers who live in or are deeply knowledgeable about the areas where the terms are used. For example, William deBuys writes about forms characteristic of New Mexico’s Sangre de Cristo mountains, while Robert Hass contributes definitions connected with the San Francisco area, and Luis Alberto Urrea focuses on the Rocky Mountain Front Range. As a result, the material in this book is a high step above the dry and impersonal explanations you might expect in this type of endeavor.
I bought Home Ground as a research tool. But I find myself dipping into it for the sheer pleasure of the writing and of discovering new terms. For example, just today I learned that the Navajo word for “slot canyon” is tseghiizi. And confirmed that the Moreno Valley, where so many of my Old New Mexico books are set, is an hourglass valley like Mosaic Canyon in Death Valley.
I also discovered a term for the long narrow fields that line up, short-end to the water, along so many of New Mexico’s streams and acequias. They’re long-lot fields. That certainly reduces the number of words I need to use to describe that particular geographical feature!
If you’re looking for a resource to describe and understand the landscape of the U.S., I recommend this book. If you’d simply like an enjoyable and very readable way to learn something new, I also recommend this book. Home Ground is a real treasure!
I already had a book about the Camino Real de Tierra Adentro—the highway from New Mexico to Mexico City that came into being in the late 1500s. I had no business buying Following the Royal Road by Hal Jackson.
But I’m certainly glad I did.
The book I already owned is a good overview of the road’s history, but Following the Royal Road gets into the details that make a historical researcher salivate. It answered questions I ran into while gathering information for No Secret Too Small and also provided details I didn’t know I needed. For example, both battles of New Mexico’s 1837/38 revolt happened on the Camino Real. And El Alamo—where Governor Perez and his officials spent the night of August 8, 1837, is on the route, south of Santa Fe and just north of Los Golondrinos.
One of the things I really like about Following the Royal Road is the detailed maps it provides for each section of the Camino. Also, it traces the road all the way to Taos, a connection most books don’t make. In fact, it lays out the alternate routes people took to get to Taos, depending on the weather, material I used in No Secret Too Small.
But Following the Royal Road isn’t just a map with words. Jackson sprinkles a liberal amount of historical and cultural information throughout the book, so you’ll learn about everything from hornos to the founding of El Paso del Norte and the silver mines of Zacatecas.
And you can actually follow Following the Royal Road. It provides driving instructions from Taos to Mexico City. Whether you want to explore pieces of the Camino Real de Tierra Adentro from your armchair or on the road, I heartily recommend this book as your guide.
In Spring 1835, the citizens of New Mexico met their new Governor, sent from Mexico City this time instead of being appointed from the men of the province.
Governor Albino Perez and the new laws he’d been ordered to enforce didn’t sit well with his constituents, especially those living in Rio Arriba, along the upper Rio Grande. After years of essentially self-rule, New Mexico’s elected town councils would now be appointed by the Governor. He would also be collecting taxes that had never been required before.
The governor also simply rubbed people the wrong way. He had an autocratic manner, he dressed flamboyantly, and he wasn’t from New Mexico. Perhaps most importantly, when people began to complain about the new laws, he didn’t listen.
The result was a rebellion that exploded in early August 1837. Janet Lecompte’s book Rebellion in Rio Arriba provides a clear narrative of what happened before, during, and after August 1837 and also includes translations of key documents. Lecompte does an excellent job of evaluating and sorting out the various accounts of the revolt. Although it’s concise, this book is a treasure trove of valuable material. I’ve used it extensively as a resource for my forthcoming novel, No Secret Too Small.
The 1837 revolt is an important episode in New Mexico’s history that I believe has lessons for us today. A little less heavy-handedness and a little more communication could very well have resulted in a workable solution for everyone, instead of death for so many. I highly recommend Rebellion in Rio Arriba.