Crossing Purgatory

I love books about the Old West, but sometimes they just don't seem authentic to me. However, Crossing Purgatory, by Gary Schanbacher, is thrillingly authentic, as it chronicles a man who leaves his life behind in Indiana in the 1850s and heads west.

Thompson Grey is our hero. He had gone east to ask for a loan from his father, as he had big ideas for his farm. Refused, he goes back home to find his wife and sons in the grip of a disease. They all die, so he buries them and just starts walking west.

He is all the way in Missouri before joining a wagon train. The captain, named Upperdine, likes Grey's work ethic, and hires him to continue on across Kansas. There have been a lot of books and films about the westward migration, but this one really was effective, capturing the fear and the boredom: "Much of the walking was spent in silence, the creaking of wheels, the squeal of the brake lever on steeper downgrades, an occasional shouted command. They made good time, twelve, fourteen miles a day, dust always with them, coating their clothes, hair,"

Grey becomes friendly with a family from Ohio, the Lights. Tragedy strikes, though, and he is left feeling responsible for the surviving family members. He and the Lights head to Upperdine's spread near the Purgatoire River (I did some figuring and this appears to be southeastern Colorado). Grey works the land, and then they are joined by Upperdine's partner, Benito, who has left behind his placita in New Mexico with his family to try to make it on this new land.

There have also been a lot of books about new land, and the attraction to it. This book is also exceptional in expressing that concept. The oddly configured family deals with various obstacles--locusts, freak snow storms, bandits, and a badly timed broken leg, but they endure. Grey, still haunted by what he left behind, can't decide if he wants to push on or stay and realize his dream. "He felt as ease in his labor, a liberation to be lost in motion unforced and effortless and so closely part of his nature. But, occasionally, that same movement triggered memory, and his mind would wander back to other reaping, other fields, and his rhythm would break, the scythe moving with an uneconomical jerkiness, and he'd find himself hacking at the ground. He'd stop, drop the tool, move his hands to the small of his back, stretch, knead flesh on muscle, attempt to return to the here-and-now, his breath, taking in this air in this place at this time, and after a while, he'd take up the scythe and continue on."

Crossing Purgatory is beautifully written, and I appreciated that while Schanbacher can certainly be lyrical, he exercises restraint and doesn't go overboard. This is especially true of the dialogue--these people are not verbose, and say exactly what they mean and no more. I find some Westerns (I'm looking at you, Deadwood) have their characters sound like they swallowed dictionaries. This book is a refreshing change.

I would actually like to know more about the fate of these characters, so perhaps a sequel or two is in order. I was particularly fascinated by Upperdine, who can't stay still long, and repeatedly returns to the trail, where he likes to make deals, but isn't hesitant about using a gun.