It's Over! And I can't believe that I liked it.

Alright, alright, I'll say it. I liked the story. Notice that I didn't say book, I had some problems there. I felt like the entire story could have been told in one hundred less pages. I swear, Bob was just puttering around Woolybucket for ages. Also, there was a huge chunk of the book devoted to stories of old about Woolybucket and those who lived there. Don't get me wrong, I liked reading about the people, but sometimes it seemed like Proulx got a little carried away. There were pages of her describing things that I couldn't relate to- old plows or barbed wire. I understand the importance of those seemingly minute things, they build up the image of the Old West, but to me they were very boring.

So here's what happened in the ending: Bob, after sufficiently screwing up his job at trying to find future hog farms by inciting a deadly shoot out by a crazed widower (no, not LaVon) in Global Pork Rinds' office building and stirring things up in general in the stubborn town of Woolybucket, quits. He does this because of both outside events and self realization, but the important part is this: there is some part of him that, through his experience, has made him fall in love with the people (no women, though, my prediction was wrong) and town of Woolybucket. I think that it is this major change within him that allows for the ULTIMATE ending.

So, Bob gives up his hopes of climbing the ladder of success through International Pork Rinds, and to his amazement, Ace Crouch, a man whom he was trying to buy land from, and the young, gangly assistant to Habakuk van Melkebeek back in the 1930's, has begun to buy up the panhandle, just as Bob had tried to do. Even more ironic is what he plans on doing with the land; he wants to create a giant reserve, a large plot of land dedicated to bringing back the Old West landscape and wildlife. But how could he possibly pay for this? Buckle your seat belts, it's about to get even more ironic. Ace Crouch received billions of dollars from his old friend, van Melkebeek, after he died. Ace is now a billionaire, thanks to a quirky Dutch man's love of Texas. And with that money, Crouch is going to restore Texas to a land that can be fallen in love with again. Along with investing in the help of all his fellow Woolybucket residents, Bob Dollar also falls in as an employee, showing a complete switch of 'sides'.

What was the whole point of this book? To understand this, it is important to know a little bit about the author- Annie Proulx. According to the back of the book, Proulx has a home and spends part of the year in the panhandle- hence the depth and intricacy that she is able to instill within the book. Her knowledge of the area is reflected, and in this the audience can see why she wrote this. It is clearly evident that holds a deep love and respect for the western plains, and she understands the workings of the small towns that reside there. In this book, Proulx has created a homage to that landscape which she loves, and in doing so, hopes to instill a tiny fraction of that same reverence within us.

I'm not about to go ride off into the sunset on Trigger or buy a pet buffalo now after reading 'That Old Ace in the Hole', but that is not to say that the book hasn't affected me. After reading it, I now have a connection with this previously unknown area. The fact that the area had such a strong connection to it's past stirred up a sense of nostalgia in me, and it got me thinking about the times when water was abundant, once you realized all you had to do was look down (as in deep), or when ranches were the core of the social fiber that made up the west.

In creating this book, Proulx created a window into a life of a town where past and present mix, but one thing stays constant- Cowboy Law: who ever you are, stay true to yourself, and what ever you do, do it well.

The Windmills

Ace Crouch is a land owner that Bob Dollar scopes out as a possible seller. Ace is old, and has no use for the land, much of which lies barren. However, in telling the story of Bob persuing Ace's land, the story of Ace himself is told as well.

As told in previous posts, a young Ace Crouch came to be the partner of the odd windmill man- the forign Habakuk van Melkebeek. Together, they tend to the gentle giants that stand sentry over the quiet plains. They forge a natural bond with each other, the towering stands of metal, and the land.

When the subject of windmills first came up, I was interested from the get go. All of my life, I have heard of them. My Oma, or 'grandmother' in English, hails from Frankfurt, Germany. She came to America when she was in her twenties and retains strong ties to the place and people that she left.

She loves America, but at the same time, I have always heard her comentary of how the United States could be altered to be more like Europe. One of the things that she dislikes about America is the lack of intrest in saving energy and preserving natural resources. Not long ago, an incident arose where the people that lived in a town near her voted against installing windmills along the highways as a way of obtaining wind energy because they found them aesthetically displeasing. For weeks, I heard of how ignorant people were being. "A turning windmill on the country side is a beautiful thing!" she exclaimed, "They are all over Europe, and no one over there calls them displeasing!" I had to agree with her- since when did preserving the earth depend on such a material matter as aesthetics?

(taken from http://www.freefoto.com/preview/2003-03-30?ffid=2003-03-30&k=Kinderdyke+Windmills%2C+Holland )

And so, always, in my mind, windmills have been associated with something a little foreign and out of reach- beautiful, aged models that are somehow at the same time the result of forward thinking and new ideas. With this modern imprint of them in my brain, it was hard for me to picture them dusty and old squatting, a little delapidated, in the Texas heat, tall, abrupt changes to the otherwise flat landscape.

(taken from: http://www.texasescapes.com/CentralTexasTownsNorth/MontagueTexas/MontagueTx.htm )

But after thinking about it, the juxtopositon of the two ideas started making sense. The windmill is two symbols resting in one sleepy iron body. On the one hand, it is a symbol of progression and 'green' thinking- it shows conservation efforts at its finest and is associated with an intelligent way to create new energy. Also, though, it symbolizes an old way of life in the west, and despite the fact that they are worn and a little decrepit, they are still loved and cared for. They symbolize an old way of life that seems to be alien in modern times- a life of complete connection with the land, the windmill and self. Through tending to the windmills, people forge a closer relationship with the land and learn to become dependent solely on themselves and the wild, an idea that has faded in the time of Bob Dollar.

Themes from American Literature

The modern American dream is still based (albeit some what loosely here and there) on the concept of manifest destiny.

In the book, through the stories that are told about the 'old times' and the events taking place in the fictional present, a sense of need for land and expansion is conveyed. It is in this manner that the motif and theme is conveyed: that man, and essentially, Americans, will always have a hunger, a craving, a primordial want for more.

One great example of this theme manifesting it's self is through Bob Dollar's own job: to scout out new land for a corporation that farms and slaughters pigs. This corporation is not content to sit static on the land that is currently in their possession, they want to expand and grow and sink their tentacles of stink and death into more and more earth. Dollar's employer, Ribeye Cluke, told Bob before his first venture, "There is no reason why the Texas pan handle can't produce seventy five percent of the world's pork. That's our aim." (Proulx 6) The company is always growing and growing. One day America, the next the world.

We see this theme also in another time, in the story of Martin Merton Fronk, an ancestor of La Von's, whose story follows him from his original home in Kansas to the western frontier. Fronk ventures westward in hopes of acquiring a farm of his own. He is not satisfied to be in Kansas, he wants to push westward and pursue his fortunes in the land of cattle and cowboys. He is not content with normal life, and wants more sun, more money, more grit and more land. He was drawn into the allure and mystery of the west through whispered promises of fortune and grandeur. "One thing he understood clearly- there were fabulous profits in cattle..." (Proulx 75)

Man still maintains roots, no matter how hidden or deep, to nature in a profound and slightly archaic way.

This theme unfurls it's self best in the story of Habakuk van Melkebeek, a "crazy Dutchman who showed up on the Cutaway [a ranch] one spring day in the 1930's looking for work." ( Proulx 140) And van Melkebeek found it. He ended up working as a "windmill man", a person who works to make sure that all of the windmills on the farms work and remain functioning and make upgrades and repairs to them as it is seen fit. Any job on a ranch is closely related to nature, but Habakuk took it one step further by eschewing society and relationships and sleeping out in nature, with his beloved windmills. He had no relationships, save for what he had for the flat planes and the rotating metal. He was a true Western man, with an extremely close relationship with nature. He slept in it, ate in it, and immersed his life in it. "I like the pan handle," he said, "I like Texas, where it's flat." (Proulx 240)

Bob Dollar also has a relationship with the prairie. When he first arrived in Texas, he was a city boy that was merely driving through on business. However, after finally settling down and renting an old bunk house that lies low in the grasses, he begins to forge connections, whether he recognizes them or not. He doesn't seem to notice it just yet, but it is clearly there when he first agrees to rent the bunk house. "He thought the bold diagonal of caprock rim that divided the high plains from the southern plains, the red canyons of the Palo Duro striking and exotic." (Proulx 70)