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Warlock, November 2005
Trade Size (reprint)
Oakley Hall's legendary Warlock revisits and reworks the traditional conventions of the Western to present a raw, funny, hypnotic, ultimately devastating picture of American unreality.
New York Review Books
November 2005
480 pages ISBN: 1590171616 Trade Size (reprint)
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Fiction
First published in the 1950s, at the height of the McCarthy
era, Warlock is not only one of the most original and
entertaining of modern American novels but a lasting
contribution to American fiction. "Tombstone, Arizona, during the 1880's is, in ways, our
national Camelot: a never-never land where American virtues
are embodied in the Earps, and the opposite evils in the
Clanton gang; where the confrontation at the OK Corral takes
on some of the dry purity of the Arthurian joust. Oakley
Hall, in his very fine novel Warlock has restored to the
myth of Tombstone its full, mortal, blooded humanity. Wyatt
Earp is transmogrified into a gunfighter named Blaisdell who
. . . is summoned to the embattled town of Warlock by a
committee of nervous citizens expressly to be a hero, but
finds that he cannot, at last, live up to his image; that
there is a flaw not only in him, but also, we feel, in the
entire set of assumptions that have allowed the image to
exist. . . . Before the agonized epic of Warlock is over
with--the rebellion of the proto-Wobblies working in the
mines, the struggling for political control of the area, the
gunfighting, mob violence, the personal crises of those in
power--the collective awareness that is Warlock must face
its own inescapable Horror: that what is called society,
with its law and order, is as frail, as precarious, as flesh
and can be snuffed out and assimilated back into the desert
as easily as a corpse can. It is the deep sensitivity to
abysses that makes Warlock one of our best American novels.
For we are a nation that can, many of us, toss with all
aplomb our candy wrapper into the Grand Canyon itself, snap
a color shot and drive away; and we need voices like Oakley
Hall's to remind us how far that piece of paper, still
fluttering brightly behind us, has to fall." --Thomas Pynchon
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