"Each of us must find wisdom in his own way. Mine is one way, yours another. Perhaps we each need more of what the other knows."

. . . The Lonely Men

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Conferences Louis L'Amour Discussion Forum Topic #7525
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Member since 9-17-23
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09-23-23, 10:41 AM (Pacific Time)
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   Callaghen Survival in the unforgiving desert.' A novel.
A tale of outlasting the bitter elements of the desert, Indians, bad men who will kill relentlessly, unforgiving without a shred of mercy. Great tale of survival in the desert with bad guys following that killed his wife and burned his house down...
I don't think any other writer could describe the desert like L'Amour, the landscapes, the mountain ridges and canyons, the plant life that has its own way of continuing to live in such harsh conditions,
and the lack of water that has a way of life in its own source. It's amazing to me, the wonderment that he brings to us readers in his own experiences as he explores the land, the environment of his stories that captivate us, to make us feel the landscape as he may have walked upon it.
L'Amour is in his element when he talks of the desert, it must have been his favorite place, and his invisible footsteps are most likely everywhere there is a foothold...
To hear him talk about the Government Road to Rock Springs, towards Fort Mohave and Cedar canyon. Providence Mountain looms, as Wild Horse Canyon folds against rock formations made by wind, water, time and glaciers...
I walked in the desert in Moab, Utah, the far-reaching plains in front of my eyes, greasewood bush's and Joshua trees and a occasionally high up in the mountain desert, a Bristlecone pine, its twisting, gnarled form looking almost human in its hideous form, thriving only in the highest elevations and quite possibly walked on the very ground Louis walked as he memorized the mountains, the ground beneath him and the landscape...
There is times when L'Amour wanted to delve into the supernatural, science fiction, horror and throughout his novels, you can catch some of this, but his publishers wouldn't sign off on it, his money was in westerns. Here is a paragraph from this novel, where he lets himself go...

Before them lay a valley, a narrow corridor of green, deep in shadow now, a corridor between two rows of gargoyles, weird monsters shaped by wind, rain, and blown sand, carved from the native rock into these fantastic creatures of stone (edited for shortness of time)
He felt drawn, impelled to go on into that darkening corridor.
But the land spoke to him, whispering a song to his ears, when it was silent, the wind, softly, plaintively, he knew then what was the song Ulysses heard when bound to the mast as he sailed past the siren islands. Louis L'Amour
I could go on, but then I'd play spoiler. Read the book.


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Callaghen [View All], Sackettter8, 10:41 AM, 09-23-23, (0)  

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