Didn't make my day

Elmore Leonard, Hombre (1961: New York; HarperCollins, 2002).

I read this because I wanted to read some manly pulp; years ago I was lent Charles Willeford's The Cockfighter, and it entranced me. Leonard is revered in western and crime fiction circles, and several of his works have been adapted for the screen. (I very much enjoyed the 2007 adaptation of his short story, "3:10 to Yuma," starring Russell Crowe and Christian Bale.) But I found Hombre, considered one of Leonard's best, to be unremarkable.

In short, Leonard's picture of rugged masculine virtue seems trite. But it is certainly possible that he invented the western hero we know so well - that, in 1961, his vision was original. If so, Leonard's reputation is understandable. But from my 2009 perspective, the protagonist is cut from cardboard. In this story, John Russell is the true man of action and few words, a man who looks out for himself and minds his own business, but who, in a pinch, remains unruffled and incorruptible:

"He let people do or think what they wanted while he smoked a cigarette and thought it out calmly, without his feelings getting mixed up in it. Russell never changed the whole time, though I think everyone else did in some way. He did what he felt had to be done. Even if it meant dying. So maybe you don't have to understand him. You just know him."

Ho-hum. These kinds of characters do much better on screen, without the voice-over. That said, our narrator, a young man who spends three days in Russell's company while their stagecoach gets held up by no-good bandits, has an endearing everyman quality that meshes with Leonard's plain-talking literary approach. His remark on an improper exchange between two of the coach passengers made me smile:

"Frank Braden had eased lower in the seat and his head was very close to Mrs. Favor's. He said something to her, a low murmur. She laughed, not out loud, almost to herself, but you could hear it. Her head moved to his and she said one word or maybe a couple. Their faces were close together for a long time, maybe even touching, and yet her husband was right there. Figure that one out."

The book is not without its charms, therefore, but they have faded over the years. I didn't like Hombre enough to further investigate why Leonard is hailed as a master of his craft.