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This is an extremely challenging book to assign a star rating. James Michener was indeed an outstanding author, and each of his works was highly readable and captivating. This holds true even for this novel, which is his longest (comprising 1,096 pages in the hardcover edition). However, I have the sense that this book falls somewhat short in terms of its artistic effect. There are numerous aspects of Texas that I could discuss, and I took a great many notes while reading it, but I will attempt to keep this concise.
The most significant issue with "Texas" is that Texas (the state itself, which essentially serves as the protagonist of this novel) is presented in a rather unflattering light. The novel, "Texas," is generally sympathetic to the story of the state, but Michener either lacks the ability or the willingness to downplay or sugarcoat the more negative aspects of the state to a sufficient degree to make the story appealing to those who are not already emotionally attached to the state. Moreover, the parts where he does attempt to present things in a more favorable light for Texas often come across as uncomfortable and ineffective.
To begin with the latter point: the Spanish and then Mexican governments are depicted as uniformly corrupt and incapable of effectively governing Mexico, let alone Texas, in an effort to make the Texas Revolution and then the Mexican-American War seem more justifiable. Even worse, Native Americans are portrayed almost uniformly as violent and barbaric, and completely opposed to diplomacy or civilization. There are a few Mexican (and Hispanic Texan) characters, but they are curiously underdeveloped, despite the fact that several of them likely have stories that are more interesting than those of some of the protagonists in the book. There is only one Native character who receives any real development at all, and he is portrayed as cruel and exploitative, trapped in his futile attempt to preserve his barbarous way of life.
The successive protagonists of the book, spanning from 1540 until 1985, are not really much better. They are portrayed sympathetically, but it becomes a problem when even the most sympathetically depicted characters are violent individuals who murder strangers in cold blood, or are members of the KKK, or who murder countless innocent Mexican civilians, or are greedy real estate speculators. No matter how sympathetic the characters are shown to be, it is impossible, at least for me, to truly embrace and identify with the experiences of these people, given the profound ugliness of their souls. As in other Michener epics, the characters who are the best often die abruptly and ignominiously, while the wicked or unscrupulous thrive. However, it is a problem when my reaction to the sudden and shocking deaths of the "good" characters is one of relief, because they are not that much better than the "bad" ones.
Texas itself, as the real main character of the book, is deeply unappealing. Every state in the USA has sordid aspects to its history that cannot be honestly ignored, but reading this book gives one the inescapable feeling that Texas is the most sordid of all - that Texas is a vile edifice built on a foundation of, and lastingly shaped by, genocide, racism, slavery, injustice, and violence. Furthermore, Texans as a people are characterized as being dim, petty, hypocritical, short-sighted, reactionary, anti-intellectual, greedy, and parochial.
The latter is not (uniformly) true in real life, of course, but it is the impression one gets from this novel, given the repeated (three or four times over, depending on how you count) cycle that the novel depicts: well-meaning white people emigrate to Texas; they work hard and try to be decent; they are succeeded by their children, who become hateful monsters. One must conclude that Texas itself exerts a powerful and malign influence on those who grow up there, turning them into the worst possible versions of themselves.
Jubal and Mattie Quimper immigrate to Stephen Austin's colony from Tennessee and establish an honest business, a ferry and inn. They are succeeded by their son Yancey, who is a coward filled with genocidal hatred for natives, a chickenhawk who aggressively pushes for Texas to secede from the Union and then murders innocent Texan civilians who disagree, and a grasping conman who cheats a veteran out of his lucrative business and makes a fortune from it.
Finlay Macnab immigrates to Texas from Scotland, via Ireland and Baltimore. He (bigamously) marries a Mexican woman to secure land in Mexican Texas, then dies in the Revolution. His son Otto becomes a Texas Ranger consumed with race-hatred for Mexicans, and who extrajudicially murders dozens of Mexican civilians in the disputed Nueces Strip.
Earnshaw Rusk is a Quaker from Pennsylvania who attempts to make peace with the Indians. He is cruelly disillusioned by the natives' cruelty and lies, and marries a much-abused white woman who had been kidnapped, mutilated, and serially raped by the Indians he tried to pacify. They make an honest living ranching. Their son, Floyd, is another paranoid coward of a man, who as a teen murders two men in cold blood in a confused Oedipal rage. Later, he founds a chapter of the KKK and drives all black people, all Jewish people, and many Catholics out of the town his parents founded. Then he gets rich from oil and cons his neighbors to secure even more oil, and uses his oil wealth to sponsor massive cheating by the local high school football team, because having the winning high school football team is a cause that induces religious mania in Texans, I suppose.
After all this, there are a few small seeds of hope in the last chapter, showing, in the descendants of these family lines, awakening social consciences and appreciations of art and nature. But that is 1,000 pages in. The novel ends with the latest Rusk, with encouragement from the latest Quimper, appointing the latest Macnab (his son-in-law) as the director of a museum of sports art he is founding (after "comically" calling up Tom Landry to ensure Macnab is not gay). But that is after nearly 1,100 pages of the unrelenting awfulness of these characters and their ancestors, and it is far too little, far too late.
The most significant issue with "Texas" is that Texas (the state itself, which essentially serves as the protagonist of this novel) is presented in a rather unflattering light. The novel, "Texas," is generally sympathetic to the story of the state, but Michener either lacks the ability or the willingness to downplay or sugarcoat the more negative aspects of the state to a sufficient degree to make the story appealing to those who are not already emotionally attached to the state. Moreover, the parts where he does attempt to present things in a more favorable light for Texas often come across as uncomfortable and ineffective.
To begin with the latter point: the Spanish and then Mexican governments are depicted as uniformly corrupt and incapable of effectively governing Mexico, let alone Texas, in an effort to make the Texas Revolution and then the Mexican-American War seem more justifiable. Even worse, Native Americans are portrayed almost uniformly as violent and barbaric, and completely opposed to diplomacy or civilization. There are a few Mexican (and Hispanic Texan) characters, but they are curiously underdeveloped, despite the fact that several of them likely have stories that are more interesting than those of some of the protagonists in the book. There is only one Native character who receives any real development at all, and he is portrayed as cruel and exploitative, trapped in his futile attempt to preserve his barbarous way of life.
The successive protagonists of the book, spanning from 1540 until 1985, are not really much better. They are portrayed sympathetically, but it becomes a problem when even the most sympathetically depicted characters are violent individuals who murder strangers in cold blood, or are members of the KKK, or who murder countless innocent Mexican civilians, or are greedy real estate speculators. No matter how sympathetic the characters are shown to be, it is impossible, at least for me, to truly embrace and identify with the experiences of these people, given the profound ugliness of their souls. As in other Michener epics, the characters who are the best often die abruptly and ignominiously, while the wicked or unscrupulous thrive. However, it is a problem when my reaction to the sudden and shocking deaths of the "good" characters is one of relief, because they are not that much better than the "bad" ones.
Texas itself, as the real main character of the book, is deeply unappealing. Every state in the USA has sordid aspects to its history that cannot be honestly ignored, but reading this book gives one the inescapable feeling that Texas is the most sordid of all - that Texas is a vile edifice built on a foundation of, and lastingly shaped by, genocide, racism, slavery, injustice, and violence. Furthermore, Texans as a people are characterized as being dim, petty, hypocritical, short-sighted, reactionary, anti-intellectual, greedy, and parochial.
The latter is not (uniformly) true in real life, of course, but it is the impression one gets from this novel, given the repeated (three or four times over, depending on how you count) cycle that the novel depicts: well-meaning white people emigrate to Texas; they work hard and try to be decent; they are succeeded by their children, who become hateful monsters. One must conclude that Texas itself exerts a powerful and malign influence on those who grow up there, turning them into the worst possible versions of themselves.
Jubal and Mattie Quimper immigrate to Stephen Austin's colony from Tennessee and establish an honest business, a ferry and inn. They are succeeded by their son Yancey, who is a coward filled with genocidal hatred for natives, a chickenhawk who aggressively pushes for Texas to secede from the Union and then murders innocent Texan civilians who disagree, and a grasping conman who cheats a veteran out of his lucrative business and makes a fortune from it.
Finlay Macnab immigrates to Texas from Scotland, via Ireland and Baltimore. He (bigamously) marries a Mexican woman to secure land in Mexican Texas, then dies in the Revolution. His son Otto becomes a Texas Ranger consumed with race-hatred for Mexicans, and who extrajudicially murders dozens of Mexican civilians in the disputed Nueces Strip.
Earnshaw Rusk is a Quaker from Pennsylvania who attempts to make peace with the Indians. He is cruelly disillusioned by the natives' cruelty and lies, and marries a much-abused white woman who had been kidnapped, mutilated, and serially raped by the Indians he tried to pacify. They make an honest living ranching. Their son, Floyd, is another paranoid coward of a man, who as a teen murders two men in cold blood in a confused Oedipal rage. Later, he founds a chapter of the KKK and drives all black people, all Jewish people, and many Catholics out of the town his parents founded. Then he gets rich from oil and cons his neighbors to secure even more oil, and uses his oil wealth to sponsor massive cheating by the local high school football team, because having the winning high school football team is a cause that induces religious mania in Texans, I suppose.
After all this, there are a few small seeds of hope in the last chapter, showing, in the descendants of these family lines, awakening social consciences and appreciations of art and nature. But that is 1,000 pages in. The novel ends with the latest Rusk, with encouragement from the latest Quimper, appointing the latest Macnab (his son-in-law) as the director of a museum of sports art he is founding (after "comically" calling up Tom Landry to ensure Macnab is not gay). But that is after nearly 1,100 pages of the unrelenting awfulness of these characters and their ancestors, and it is far too little, far too late.