Deadwood by Pete Dexter

Finished this book on Friday. I picked it up because Jane made me watch a speech given by the author, Pete Dexter. He's either insane or seriously chemically dependent. Either way, he might just be a literary genius.

I don't feel well enough right now to give this the write up it deserves, but HBO's (David Milch's) Deadwood owes an unacknowledged debt of gratitude to this book. Like HBO's version, most of the book takes place in 1876 and uses real historical figures from Deadwood to recreate that era. Hard to believe perhaps, but Dexter's Deadwood is a much more dirty, nasty, and evil place than HBO's version. Al Swearingen has no redeeming qualities in Dexter's world. Seth Bullock only looks out for his own interests. Sol Star has some streaks of evil. Wild Bill Hickok and Charley Utter have good qualities, but they bend matters to their own benefit as well. And Calamity Jane, well, it's hard to know what to say about her. By turns you hate her and respect her. And you're continuously grossed out by her (particularly the way Dexter describes green mold growing in the folds of her neck because she so rarely bathes).

Expertly written and expertly told, Deadwood transcends genre and is more of a reflection on truth, legend, human passions, greed, lust, and human nature. The story could be written in today's setting; everything's still there, we just pretend that it's not. It's all there right below the surface. The dark nature of man, just waiting for a chance to break through the thin veneer and into the daylight.