Showing Posts From
Dodge city
Author: Patrick deWittPage Count: UnknownPublication Date: Expected publication 2026-09-29 APL The soil out by the south pasture is holding onto too much water this spring, smelling wonderfully of damp clay and decaying root systems as the earth finally warms up under my old boots. Speaking of things stuck in the mud, Patrick deWitt is back with Dodge City, a novel that sounds suspiciously like every single movie plot forced upon us during the nineteen-nineties indie cinema boom where young men drove fast cars and made poor life choices while avoiding responsibility. Does the world truly need another pill-popping protagonist fleeing the Vietnam draft in a showroom-new Jaguar? Probably not. We already endured hundreds of pages of tedious masculine angst back when Denis Johnson published Jesus' Son, and quite frankly, the amphetamine-fueled road trip trope smells about as fresh as three-week-old compost sitting in a bucket by the kitchen sink. The Geography of Avoidance Our apolitical hero Lee Clarke decides to dodge the draft by driving eastward away from Canada—wait, the synopsis says he is heading for the border, yet he picks up a car bound for the East Coast. Geography clearly abandoned this boy before his UCLA expulsion did. He stops along the northern United States to visit a gallery of grotesque relatives, including a degraded veteran father and a manic mother. It is a portrait of a country in flux, or so the jacket copy desperately insists. Why must every novel about the sixties rely on the exact same checklist of familial dysfunction? Give me a good, hardy perennial weed over this tired literary landscape any day of the week. Dandelions have more backbone than these paper-thin relatives strung out across the northern states. DeWitt writes with a certain comic crispness, sure, but this premise feels recycled from a cynical screenwriter's discarded pitch book. My goats have managed to escape their pen yet again and are currently headbutting the compost bins with alarming enthusiasm. That behavior makes infinitely more sense than driving a stolen Jaguar across a continent with a bag of speed just because you got into a fistfight over a library book or whatever happened at UCLA. At least the goats understand the basic concept of boundaries, unlike Lee Clarke. I predict this book will win awards simply because literary critics possess the attention spans of distracted hummingbirds and adore anything involving vintage cars and historical trauma. It will sit on the bestseller lists alongside endless memoirs about growing vegetables in gravel. Wait. The teenager just handed me a loose-leaf paper covered in trigonometric identities and limits, demanding immediate assistance with a calculus homework problem involving logarithmic decay. I have no earthly idea what a derivative is supposed to represent when the only thing decaying around here is last autumn's leaf mulch. #DodgeCity #PatrickDeWitt #LiteraryGrumpiness