First Horses: Stories of the New West by Robert Franklin Gish (review)

372 Western American Literature FirstHorses:StoriesoftheNew West. ByRobertFranklin Gish. Foreword byGordon A. Weaver. (Reno: University ofNevada Press, 1993. 134 pages, $19.95.) Mostwestern literature readers willrecognize the author from his scholarly works like Frontier’s End: The Life and Literature of Harvey Fergusson, or the reminiscences of Song ofMy HunterHeart: A Western Kinship, or the papers he’s presented at various academic meetings, including, of course, the Western Literature Association. Now, Bob Gish has tried his hand at fiction, remember­ ing his days growing up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, recreating the time, the place, the imagined-from-life characters—bringing the whole thing back in a successful collection ofshort stories. For the most part these are realistic stories that evoke images ofthe waythe city was in those days before it outgrew itself. The people, however, are more important than the settings, with human traits that remain recognizable from generation to generation. They come alive in these stories, as they go to an amateur audition at the old Kimo Theater, or hold hands as theywalkalong the irrigation ditch, or eat chili at a local restaurant and see love affairs play themselves out, orwatch a rodeo, or, asone mother does, promise her newborn daughter that she’ll never allow her to be blessed with the blessing that she came to fear and hate. In “Salvation” Gish uses a trite situation—the evangelical minister who seduces one of his parishioners—but with amazing effect because of the depth ofthe story. The minister, Brother Ron, isbaptizing the husband ofthe woman he has seduced (more accurately, they have seduced each other), and the narrator recalls a passage that suggests much about religious beliefs and the human condition, evoking even the image ofCain and Abel. The attention of the congregation—especially that of the baptized believers—was complete and intense. They felt again the waters of their own immersion and, mystically, knew again their own burstingforth out of the fluids, the blood and the salt, ofbirth. Lavola gasped more rapidly, more emphatically, for breath and felt her heart beat behind the constrictions of her too-hastily-snapped brassiere. Mildred [wife ofthe preacher] blewher nose and dabbed her eyesand reached over to try and subdue Beaumont in his attempts to stab his brother, Matt, with his black rubber dagger, which he had deviously smuggled out ofthe house and brought to church. There are plenty offine stories. The final story is,perhaps, sentimental, but it’sabout a teaching experience we’d all have loved to have had. DELBERT E. WYLDER Corrales, New Mexico ...