University of Nevada Books

Michael Allen is a folklorist and a rodeo fan. He's a Westerner, born and raised in Ellensburg in central Washington. When this book was published, he was on the faculty of the University of Washington -- probably still is. I say all this because his book is first of all an academic discussion of his subject. It's based on extensive reading and field research, and the analysis tackles a broad range of topics that comprise the discourse among a couple generations of folklorists who've focused on the culture of western Americana. In other words, while Allen clearly enjoys his subject, he's making arguments directed at fellow professionals who represent different points of view. Because of this, there's a steady flow of documentation, with plenty of footnotes. For the casual reader, all this may get a little heavy-going at times.

Allen covers many facets of his subject -- starting with the history of rodeo and looking at the rodeo cowboy as portrayed in movies and TV, folklore, literature, art, and country music. He also has a chapter on what he calls "rainbow rodeo riders" -- that is, minorities, such as Native Americans, African-Americans, women, gays and lesbians. There's also a glossary of rodeo cowboy lingo and a long annotated bibliography in the form of an essay.

Allen's argument rests on a couple of ideas that he acknowledges are debatable. The first is that "real cowboys" (as they existed over 100 years ago out on the unfenced Plains) are for the most part a thing of the past. Today, the role of the "real cowboy" is left to the rodeo cowboy, and (this is where I'd take exception) Allen pretty much ignores the host of working cowboys who still make a living on ranches in a dozen or more western states. But I'm not a folklorist, so that's just my nonprofessional opinion.

The other idea is that the rodeo cowboy represents a "contemporary ancestor" for modern-day Americans. He harks back to the American frontier of our imagination. In his risk-defiant, untamed, wandering, individualistic behavior, he represents what fans regard as essentially American in themselves. In other words, he's mythic -- he represents our deepest values and connects us with our past. These values are embraced by the Cowboy Code, which is an unwritten set of behavioral guidelines all men must aspire to if they are to be accepted into the elite fraternity of "real cowboys." Dating from cowboy culture as it took form in the 19th century, the Code survives today, apparently stronger than ever among the men who rodeo.

The irony is that Allen also reveals the dark side of the myth and the Code, for both thrive on a kind of extreme libertarianism that can be anti-social, intolerant, and misogynistic. While the cowboy with his six-gun "tamed" the West (in popular fiction and movies, at least), the archetypal cowboy is untamable himself. While that's part of his appeal (and there are popular outlaw cowboys aplenty, e.g., Billy the Kid), it also exposes the rodeo cowboy's unsavory side. Allen may not intend this, but this casts a shadow over his argument.

For all my reservations, I recommend this book. It's so full of ideas and ranges across more rodeo cowboy literature than I ever imagined existed. He's added several titles to my reading list. As companion volumes, I'd recommend Baxter Black's hilarious rodeo novel, "Hey, Cowboy, Wanna Get Lucky?" A great book of essays and rodeo photography can be found in Bob St. John's "On Down the Road," full of interviews with rodeo stars circa 1975. For a good recent rodeo movie, there's "Cowboy Up!" about bullriders. Let 'er buck!

I bought this book for a mandatory class at college on Nevada Constitution. Although I wouldn't have chosen to read this book on my own, it is not as boring as one would have thought. It is well written and even intriguing at times.

"Shrubs of the Great Basin" is a wonderful, extensively informative textbook for individuals interested in identifying shrubs throughout the southwestern United States. Organized by family, this is a wonderful textbook for botanists and flora enthusiasts. Fleischmann incorporates historical and detailed information not typically unearthed in field guides. In addition to illustrations of each species, the author includes 24 pages of wonderful photographs of numerous shrubs detailed throughout the text. Overall, an excellent and informational book.

In a beautifully illustrated book Carmelo Urza finely analyses the discussions about this avant-garde sculpture made to celebrate the Basque shepherds of America. He shows and comments the different points of view of those implied: the Basque-american community to whom the monument was dedicated, the Basque government in Spain and, of course, the artist himself. He also provides us with detailed information of the negotiations which finally led to the placing of the monument where it is now. It is a book worth reading in order to know about the aspirations and self-image of the Basques living in America, but also of those living in Spain.

This is an interesting book about the buildings in the Sagebrush state. It does include the history of the profession of architecture but is missing some of the important definitions of the times, such as "carpenter." It gives credit to the buildings, but misquotes the names of the architects in some cases (no "John M." or "Morrill John" Curtis exists as an architect in Nevada, for example). Even a few mistakes such as this cause the reader to question the validity of other information. (My advice to authors: if you do not know, then don't guess and certainly don't put it in writing! Check primary sources!).
Overall, the book is worthwhile and a boon to historians with its pictures of old buildings inside and outside.

This book is a must-read for anyone interested in the English language. The writing is amusing and flows well. It is informative and entertaining. If you don't buy it at least check it out at the library.

Here are a few sentences from a short article that appeared Nov 21, 2004 in the Washington (DC) Post BOOKWORLD. It was this article that made me interested in this book.

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In the 1950s Walter Van Tilburg Clark seemed on his way to becoming a major American writer, both a popular and a critical success. His first and third novels, "The Ox-Bow Incident" and "The Track of the Cat", were made into movies. And one of his short stories, "The Wind and the Snow of Winter," an elegy for freewheeling days on the Western frontier that still has few equals, was an immediate classic. ... Today Clark, who died in 1971, is at least in print: all three novels, along with "The Watchful Gods and Other Stories", the collection in which "The Wind and the Snow of Winter" appears. But he has become an in-crowd kind of writer, championed by a Stendhalian happy few, such as Wallace Stegner, and otherwise getting little attention.

Henningsen's work is an intriguing study of this overlooked era in Spanish history. He walks the reader from the beginnings of the witch trials (very similar in formation to the more popularly studied Salem witch trials) through the intercession by the Spanish Inquisition and to Antonio Salzar de Frias' posting of the Edicts of Grace. This is a book of political and theological intrigue and a mystery thrown in for good measure. While reading it, I kept wondering what was going to happen next even though this is a history text and not a novel, though there is more than enough information and a strong enough plot within the history to fashion a novel. If you are a lover of history (especially historical texts), this is one book that is difficult to put down. Even if you are not a lover of history texts, the "plot" of this study is one that will probably keep you hooked until then end.

This book is a fast read, probably even if the reader does not have a background in the history of the Apaches versus the US Military. Stockel's empathy for the plight of the Chiricahua Apache tribe rings true to me, especially in the last chapters that describe her participation in a puberty ceremonial on the Mescalero reservation in New Mexico and a celebration marking the 75th year of the end of captivity for the Ft Sill, Ok, Apache tribe. The author begins with an historical overview of the hostilities between the Apache tribes and the US government, focusing on what is known of women's role in the tribe and retelling the stories of Lozen, sister of Victorio and famous warrior and shaman in her own right, among others. She outlines Apache creation myths and how their belief system manifested itself in tribal customs and daily life.

The most compelling part of the book contains her interviews with four Apache women that took place around 1989. One of the women, Mildren Imach Cleghorn, was a Chiricahua Apache woman born into captivity at Ft Sill for the first four years of her life and whose family elected to stay in Oklahoma rather than be sent to the Mescalero reservation in New Mexico. The other three are no less compelling, but perhaps more revealing of the struggle of these women of Apache blood to live in the mainstream world and on the reservation, raise their children to survive in it, and still maintain and honor their ancient traditions.

After reading this book, which quotes extensively from Eve Ball, Dan Thrapp, Opler, Debo, and other chroniclers of Apache primary history, I think readers will be excited to learn more about the Apache people. Ms. Stockel is not complimentary toward certain New Mexican politicians and the US government's handling of this conquered people, which she readily admits in her preface. What shines through this book is the honoring of these women whose struggles in the face of near annihilation can inspire all of us.