Hello peeps. Final review of the week and then back to original content until I finish another book. Today’s review is for Shane, by Jack Schaefer.
Shane was my father’s favorite movie. I remember watching it with him on many occasions. The film remains one of the only positive memories I have of my old man. I was never a fan of westerns, but as a kid who desperately wanted his father’s approval (approval that, I might add, would never come; he’s been dead since 2011), I’d force myself to consume the things he liked in the hopes that I might become one of those things.
And then I grew up and realized my father wasn’t someone whose approval I should be concerned with. Still, the film adaptation of this book remains one of my favorite movies, if for no other reason than that it was something I shared with my father. The book itself is terrific and gets my highest recommendation.
One final note, an inside look, if you will… People assume that when I say negative reviews don’t bother me that my words are nothing but posturing. “Of course he cares about reviews. What author doesn’t?” But I mean what I say. And I can thank my father for that. If you hate me and/or my work, that doesn’t affect me in the slightest. I find some reasoning silly and others thought-provoking, but I never take reviews to heart because they are opinion not truth. I had to teach myself at an early age that truth and opinion are two different things. I had to for my own mental survival. There I was, winning writing contests and spelling bees and science fairs, and my father took every one of my successes as a slight against him. “Oh, you think you’re hot shit because you can read? Well you ain’t ever gonna be shit beyond that, so enjoy your fifteen minutes.” That’s a direct quote from Dad. Classy motherfucker, huh? So what the fuck do I care if you hate me? My own father didn’t like me and I turned out just fine. But keep on giving up that free real estate to me in your mind. I’ll be over here paying the bills.
In summation: This was my first time reading this novella and it certainly will not be my last. It’s just long enough. Any more of it would have been to overstay its welcome. I might be a bit biased, though, seeing as how the book speaks to me on a personal level, but I dug it. The writing is fantastic, as well. This is so much more than a dime-store western and it deserves your attention.
See you and Herman Sheckle tomorrow,
Pic of the Day
Final Judgment: Required reading.