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Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen: Reflections at Sixty and Beyond

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For those that aren't familiar with Larry McMurtry's body of work, this book will seem to be a stand-alone effort. But, in reality, it is truly a sequel to his first book of essays - "In A Narrow Grave: Essays On Texas" (1968). If one hasn't read "Narrow Grave", it should probably be read first (or re-read if one hasn't recently). As far as storytellers go (the tie-in to "Walter Benjamin At The DQ"), McMurtry is certainly the last gifted storyteller concerning the Texas from the 1880's through this century. This new book is, I suspect, just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the experiences of his dozens of now-deceased family members that he could set down either as straight history or as material for a definitive character (perhaps the "biography" of Sam the Lion prior to "The Last Picture Show"). Regardless, the things learned about McMurtry's own life are both endearing and entertaining. After reading the books, one should visit both Archer County and Archer City to try and soak up some of the elements that are a part of Larry McMurtry (and, of course, having a lime Dr Pepper at the DQ shouldn't be missed; neither should a visit to the bookstores where he has rounded up his herds of books - it's quite an experience).

McMurtry has proven himself and his talent time after time in a long career at the very top of his profession. His homey Americana themes are universal, his catchy, light-hearted prose is regionally charming and his lively plotting certainly has more depth than that of John Steinbeck (and I'm a big Steinbeck fan, by the way). McMurtry's latest, "Walter Benjamin At The Dairy Queen" (subtitled "Reflections at Sixty and Beyond") is the autobiography his legions of fans have been eagerly anticipating for decades. In the summer of 1980, McMurtry sat in a booth at the Dairy Queen on the southern outskirts of Archer City and studied "The Storyteller," Walter Benjamin's classic, in-depth essay on the nature of narrative. With Benjamin's ideas in mind, McMurtry began exploring his own narrative nature. How was it, McMurtry wondered, that a shy young man raised in a desolate, harsh place that had just recently been settled, "...a place where absolutely nothing of any cultural or historical importance had ever happened..." became an accomplished novelist? And a successful one at that? As documented in "Walter Benjamin At The Dairy Queen," McMurtry's search for answers to this and similar questions over the nearly 20 years since beginning his journey of self-discovery is truly remarkable. Spread generously among the provable academic facts, are some of the most revealing life details of this most private of word masters. For instance, even though he virtually grew up in the saddle, riding herd on a hard-working, dry land cattle ranch, McMurtry never considered himself a cowboy; and never wanted to. Instead, he yearned for nothing more strenuous or complicated than owning good books. In fact, McMurtry took up writing only because of his life-long love of reading. When his cousin went off to WWII, little six-year-old Larry became the delighted recipient of a box of paperback novels. Those nineteen volumes of pulp fiction lit a fire in the country boy's young soul. Almost fifty years later, McMurtry is one of the largest dealers in collectible and out-of-print books in the country, if not the biggest. But it was tough going at first. Through his high school and college years, McMurtry's voracious appetite for books only grew and grew. For a time during his poverty-stricken undergraduate days, he even occupied my literary review desk with the Wichita Falls TIMES and RECORD NEWS because of the steady supply of expensive new books that still come free with the byline. "...all I remember," he writes of those days, "is the thrill of opening the packages of books when they came, seeing what wonders had been cast up on my doorstep. " "Walter Benjamin At The Dairy Queen" is an unforgettable life's story that's as hard to put aside as it is easy to read. Sprinkled with family photos, anecdotes and lessons learned on his rise to the very pinnacle of the wordsmiths' vocation, this one is an all-too-short treasure trove of first person insight on an American literary giant.

The New York Times called this a peculiar book but they must not read much Larry McMurtry. This was a wonderful series of essays explaining much of the writing that he has done during his lifetime. I copied many of the sentences Larry wrote about reading because they were my experiences also. I too grew up on a farm and my reading habit is directly connected to that life. My love of reading is my life, and many of my favorite books are ones by Larry McMurtry. He can describe people better than most other authors. I have a better understanding of how he does that now that I've read this book. The honesty that Larry uses in describing his own life is startling. I'm going to look up Walter Benjamin now, I'm intrigued with the storyteller quotation.

Thirty years ago I read McMurtry's first book of essays, In a Narrow Grave. Now he has written the other bookend. Dairy Queen is a wonderful book. McMurtry lived at the right time--his life was at a watershed in history. He stands on the dry land between the nothingness of West Texas and the affluence of today. He has enough sense to connect the two with a good deal of nuance. Be careful, you'll get dust in your mouth reading about the dry, hot West Texas hard scrabble. McMurtry has announced that he is finished writing fiction; if this is his last book it will be a capstone. I read the book in one sitting and I marked it up as I read it. I liked it so much simply because McMurtry's journey is the journey of most humans. We can't wait to leave home--we make new lives away from home--and then, if we are lucky, we return home with forgiveness and understanding, knowing full well that we are very much a part of where we grew up. To be able to understand this and to be at peace with himself in the winter of his life--that's where McMurtry is and he has had the kindess to take the reader along for the ride.

I've read much more of Larry McMurtry's fiction than his nonfiction, and sometimes I find myself enjoying his nonfiction a great deal more. His wry, humorous point of view, gift for quiet irony, and depth of thought come across so much more strongly in his own voice, compared to those of the characters in his novels. And while I am very fond of "Leaving Cheyenne," "Horseman, Pass By" and "The Last Picture Show," my favorite McMurtry novels, it is an equal pleasure to be in the presence of the man himself, as he reveals himself in the essays in this book.

Writing in his 62nd year, McMurtry lets himself free associate across a number of subjects; his life as a compulsive reader and book collector; the brief span of West Texas frontier history where three generations of McMurtrys lived, worked, and multiplied; the realities and myths of cowboys and ranching; his education at Rice in Houston; a short story writing course at Stanford with Frank O'Connor; his life as a novelist; the making of the movie "The Last Picture Show"; the passing of the urban secondhand bookstores; the emergence of Dairy Queens as social centers in small towns; the Archer City, Texas, centennial celebration; the demise of storytelling; the fragmentation of the American family; the importance of Proust and Virginia Woolf at a critical point in his life; the winning of the Pulitzer Prize for "Lonesome Dove"; and - most remarkably - his descent into a fierce depression following heart surgery in his 50s, from which he has not completely recovered at the time he was writing this book.

There is a deep melancholy in many McMurtry novels, played sometimes for laughs, as in "Texasville" (where characters hang out at the Dairy Queen). Indirectly, he accounts for some of that in this book, turning as he sometimes does to the themes of loss and the impermanence of things - represented in so many ways, from the vast outpouring of books that sit in piles and on shelves, collect dust and will never be opened again, to the death of his father, a rancher who worked hard all his life and saw in his last years that his achievements were far too few.

I recommend this book to anyone who's read McMurtry's novels and has wondered about the man whose imagination has produced so many memorable characters and stories. For the fun of it, you might just take it down to the Dairy Queen and read it there over a MooLatte.

Having read all of Larry's novels at least twice, I feel well acquainted enough with the author to call him by his first name. (Lonesome Dove leads the pack, a book I've read 11 times in it's entirety.) For this reading, I planted myself at one of the few DQ's in the Austin area and read all of these reflections in one sitting. As expected, the narrative of these essays is as captivating as his fiction, and the attempt to read critically proves difficult. Yet as often as I have tried to read his works with a critical eye, I typically succumb to the easy path, reading for the deep enjoyment and occasional introspection that his stories induce. And like most of his books, native Texans and any residents of tenure are once again absorbed by McMurtry's genius in creating prose that subtlely yet clearly belies all that is Texas. In fact, the author's world view, as it is shown here, is defined by the pride and frustration of being wholly Texan - a romantic yet tragic land that imbeds itself almost immediately in those who live here. McMurtry fears what all artists must: whether his work will survive and have relevance for the generations to come. Though this book is a stream of free-flowing thoughts and erudition on a wide range of subjects, McMurtry seems focused - always - on asserting his love for the state of Texas and all those traits that make him - and us - Texans. And for that, he need not fear; there will always be a place for Larry McMurtry in the Lone Star State. The grace and clarity of his writing will forever remind the natives and the rest of the world what is Texas.

This was on my stack of books to read, but I hadn't gotten to it. Maybe the title isn't as intriguing as it might be. Then a letter came from a friend with raves, and a few photocopied pages of the book that I had to read, because they would speak to ME. I stayed up all night, fascinated with McMurtry's life, reading habits, life as a book dealer, and thoughts about what he has learned--about himself, about human nature, about history. My husband and I have loved his fiction, different titles, for different reasons. Now McMurtry, past 60, thinks the grasshoppers pretty much have eaten all those fictional leaves. Too bad, but our good luck is that he has given us an eminently readable memoir, about growing up in a spare Texas landscape, riding a horse for 20 years, yet not really comfortable with horses, afraid of bushes (once rode into a hornet's nest), and poultry (they peck). Then off to college and the pursuit of his real passion: herding ideas and words, rounding up books and paragraphs. Now he has a difficult time dividing time (so many books to read, so little time) between reading and writing. If justifies my letting the ironing, weeding, mending, and cooking go, and sending out for pizza so I can read another book instead. Walter Benjamin is next.

I had read McMurtry's other essay collections; "In a Narrow Grave" and "Film Flam" and was not particularly impressed with them. I WAS, however, very impressed with the author's fiction in those days. In my humble opinion, McMurtry has written three or four excellent novels with a number of other very enjoyable ones as well. In my book the top three would be, in no particular order, "Leaving Cheyenne", "The Last Picture Show" and "Lonesome Dove" (I'm considering throwing in "Horseman Pass By"). I was always buying the latest McMurtry book to come out but, in his later years, I was frequently disappointed. I was finding plots and characters increasingly more and more bizarre. Knowing the man's potential, I kept trying. I am glad I did because I enjoyed reading "Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen". This is the first really good book he has written in years. It is a collection of 4 essays that are a reflections by the author on his life thus far.

The first essay and the last one are of general interst but it was the middle two that got me energized. Those two are about his love of reading and his fascination with book collecting and book selling. Although his tastes in literature differ from mine (how can anybody enjoy a multi-volumne set of a work by Proust?), his love of literature and the ownership of books gave me a sense of a kindred spirit. I also discovered something very revealing; why his later works (this one excepted) took such a turn for the worse. McMurtry talks about his heart surgury and his post-operative loss of interest in his profession. He returns to writing but says it hasn't been the same. Perhaps some of his readers have told him the same is true from our perspective. For the record, his last book before the heart surgury was "The Evening Star" and I would say that most of his readers would agree that the real change in quality began there as well. Hopefully, this exercise in self-examination will lead him back to the Old McMurtry.

The big joy was comparing notes as a book collector. Having filled my nine bookcases some years ago, I go through the agony of pruning to make room for the new. I related to the author's affection for different books more for their sentimental value than for their literary value. I finally had to rummage Wallace's "The Man". It wasn't much of a book (who remembers it anymore?). However, it was the first lengthy book I read as 6th grader just getting out of the juvenile sections. Listening to McMurtry share his similar stories was heartwarming.

The author gets a lot off his chest with a brevity of words and the reader feels thankful for the opportunity to listen. No doubt you will find similar shared memories like I did.

Walter Benjamin is classic McMurtry. I have only read 21 of his books (and one by him and Ossana), but this one is on the top of my list. Readers who think Lonesome Dove is McMurtry's best work may not agree. If they liked Horseman, Pass By; Leaving Cheyenne; Moving On; and The Last Picture Show series, they will love this book. It is a must for all devoted McMurtry fans and a maybe for fans of the Lonesome Dove movies. By the way, if you go to Booked Up, plan to spend about two days to see the entire store (actually there are four stores now.) And good luck getting a lime Dr. Pepper at the Dairy Queen in Archer City. They have a hard time keeping limes in stock.

Ever since reading my first McMurtry novel, I've felt much more than mild curiosity about the man behind the words. Information gleaned from media interviews has served only to heighten that curiosity, so this offering of himself is one of the most satisfying books I've read in recent memory.

At roughly the same time Mr. McMurtry's grandparents were trying to carve a spot for themselves on the Texas flatlands, my great-grandparents were doing the same on the Kansas prairie. His observations on what life was like for them and for himself resonate with memory for me. But even if one had never set foot on the high plains, his musings would be still be equally compelling.

Especially poignant is a chapter setting forth McMurtry's experience with heart bypass surgery and the subsequent loss of self he suffered. I have read other accounts by persons having a similar experience, but didn't come as close to understanding as this brought me.

Juxtaposed throughout the book are the decline of book-collecting, as it was -- decades ago -- done on grand scale, and cowboying. The cavalcade of great authors mentioned might spur the casual reader, of which I am one, to dig a little deeper into the vast amount of literature available once one knows where to look. Maybe I'll give Marcel Proust and Virginia Woolf another try.

There is a tantalizing sentence near the end of the book. It reads, "Of mother, wives, lady loves, and amities amoureuses--well, that's another book." Well, all right. I'm waiting.