By W.K. STRATTON
Around the time of Sputnik and the advent of color TV, a new kind of Western novel began to appear. Here, pickups challenged the horse as cowboys and ranchers, shaped by a set of values from a different age, confronted a technology-driven upheaval of their way of life.
William Eastlake (Checkerboard Trilogy), Edward Abbey (The Brave Cowboy, which became the movie Lonely Are the Brave), and a young Larry McMurtry (Horseman, Pass By, later made into the film Hud) stood out among the innovators.
Max Evans burned his own distinctive brand on the genre in 1960 with his breakthrough novel, the best-selling comedy The Rounders. It was adapted into a popular mid-1960s film starring Henry Fonda and Glenn Ford. Evans continued to turn out book after book after The Rounders, hitting artistic peaks with Hi-Lo Country and the two-volume Bluefeather Fellini saga.
The success of The Rounders film opened the door for Evans to have a Hollywood career as well. For decades, he waded up to his trophy buckle in the movie business. It turned out to be his primary source of income. “Max exemplifies how to exploit the derivative work aspects of copyrights,” said his attorney friend, Sherri Burr. “He created one work and turned it into others, making money in the process.”
Not bad for a cowboy born in Ropes, Texas, with almost nothing in the way of a formal education. His interest in literature began with reading a collection of Balzac’s complete works, which he discovered in a bunkhouse while he was employed as a New Mexico ranch hand.
Five years ago, he published War & Music, which he announced as his final novel. Now 90, Ol’ Max (as he calls himself) has released what he says will be his last book, Goin’ Crazy With Sam Peckinpah and All Our Friends, written with the aid of journalist Robert Nott.
Sam Peckinpah, one of the great film directors of the 20th century (The Wild Bunch, Straw Dogs, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia), stands at the center of Evans’ recollections. He and Evans were friends and collaborators for two decades, boozing and fist-fighting their way through adventures that would seem fetched from the farthest side had there not been witnesses. They were also sensitive artists, and, in Evans’ description, mystics.
No comments:
Post a Comment