Let Them Look West

Let me be very clear right up front – I’m not exactly what you’d call a “literary guy.”

I know this because as I was reading Let Them Look West, the first fiction offering from Antelope Hill Publishing’s “Jackalope Hill” imprint, I was constantly reminded of the fact that I had no idea what the hell anyone was talking about when they mentioned how “you sound like Hume” or someone made an incredibly erudite reference to some work of literature I’d never heard of.

But let me also be clear – that doesn’t matter. There’s something in this book for even the most grug-brained among us, myself included. While I was able to understand as I read that I was missing something, some crucial texture to the book that I couldn’t categorize or understand, I still knew on an instinctual, primal level that the book was good.

Which is really all that matters to me. Me and a sommelier could both drink a fine bottle of Bordeaux, and that sommelier would be able to tell you in great detail why it was so fine, what flavors and subtle aromas made it so wonderful, but at the end of the day we’d both just be telling you, in so many words, that it was good, and that you should try it.

To begin with, let’s just look at the description from Antelope Hill:

Rob Coen has a mission he has reluctantly chosen – to interview the newly re-elected Wyoming governor, James Alexander, a populist politician who has seemingly reinvented not only his state’s politics, but also its soul. No one could more strongly contrast with Coen, a big-city, liberal journalist, than the rural, Bible-thumping Alexander and his strange social and religious projects, which include constructing Mount Calvary, a monument to the Crucifixion atop a man-made mountain. Coen quickly becomes personally invested, and his trip to interview Alexander becomes a joust, pitting his nihilism against the faith of the people whom he meets as he seeks to discern the lie he is convinced hides at the heart of their righteous kingdom. At the same time, Coen begins to realize that he himself is being swept up in a struggle beyond his understanding orchestrated by forces out of his control.

Let Them Look West is a thoughtful, introspective book. This isn’t an action-packed adventure novel like The Turner Diaries or a long-winded “blueprint to victory” like Covington’s The Brigade, this is a book primarily about people and what makes them tick. The introduction to the novel (written by the author, Marty Phillips) calls it a “mundane fantasy,” and I think its a perfect explanation of this book. It’s a what-if scenario.

What if a man of true conviction, true faith, somehow, against all odds, took power in one of the backwater provinces of the global empire? What if this man wasn’t a liar and a charlatan, like certain bloviating politicians we’ve seen over the last few years, but an honest man seeking what was best for his people and land?

The fact that this idea is a fantasy, however mundane, shows the sorry state of the world we live in.

The story follows the perspective of Coen, a cynical atheist of jewish descent, and a reporter from a paper called The Times in an unnamed large eastern city.

Given how he references driving to visit family in New Jersey, and all the other clues, it shouldn’t be hard to guess which Times, or which city.

There’s the obvious conflict between him and Governor Alexander, but what the novel really excels in is showing that Coen is in conflict with the very land itself. The only true “violence” to occur in the story is when Coen accidentally takes a tumble down the hillside on a hiking trail, and throughout the book his inner monologue includes constant references to his neurotic fear of the wide sky, the alpine air, and the open spaces of Wyoming.

And of course, every inhabitant of that land is also Coen’s enemy, even if they don’t realize it. From the naïve and trusting Mr. Banks, Alexander’s driver and old friend, to the idealistic young firebrand, Justine, no one escapes Coen’s scorn and derision, with perhaps the exception of a Benedictine monk (it makes sense in context), who is simply too kind to be hated even by someone like Coen, and Alexander’s “fixer,” Arthur Walden, who is too frightening and competent to mock.

Each person, except for Walden and one other, extends the hand of friendship to Coen – and each person has that hand slapped away. Internally, sometimes Coen seems to regret his own behavior, but like the proverbial scorpion, it is his nature, and he will always sting.

The book tantalizes you with the idea that Coen might change, that he might learn the error of his ways and become a good person, an honest man. As the fellows over at Kultur-Terror said in their own review of the novel, if this was a Hollywood film (maybe only a 1950s Hollywood film, to be fair), Coen would fall in love with Justine, quit his evil journalist job, and raise goats at the foot of Mount Calvary with the Benedictine Monks.

But Coen is a scorpion, and it is their nature to sting.

The author, Marty Phillips, weaves a story of political intrigue and mythic forces on a collision course, all set beneath the western sky, a battle over the soul of a nation that, by James Alexander’s own admission, might already be beyond saving.

The novel walks a tightrope of hope, faith, and cautious optimism, suspended over the pit of vipers that is the prevailing narrative. It never comes across as an unbelievable power fantasy, like The Turner Diaries, or as a descent into hopeless nihilism, which is an all-too-common thread in people of our beliefs today. Like the settlers who tamed Wyoming in the first place, the novel seems to have an expression of stoic determination as it rolls up its sleeves and gets to work showing you the future that we could all have, if we worked for it.

This is easily the best piece of fiction I’ve read to come out of the Dissident Right. It deserves to be on the bookshelf of every man who believes, as one character in the novel says, “it is by right natural order that Alexander will win this thing.”

The book is obviously heavily Christian in theme. As a man who was a militant atheist for most of his life who only recently returned to Christ, I think it is more than reasonable in its tone, and never comes across as “preachy,” when it comes to theology. I think anyone of any faith, or lack thereof, could find something in this novel.

To be honest, I think even a more open-minded Liberal might be able to enjoy this novel, even if they would likely come away with the wrong interpretations – Coen has enough brief glimpses of humanity that I’m sure those who have been bitten by the mind virus of modern consumerism would be more than happy to identify with him.

As was stated by Mike Enoch on Hyperpodcastism’s interview with the author, the book leaves you wanting more – and the author expressed some interest in writing a sequel. From a personal standpoint, though, I don’t think further expansion is needed. This novel packs more thought, more meaning, into 258 pages than other books twice its size.

You could finish Let Them Look West in an afternoon – it’s basically what I did, and it was an afternoon well spent. I recommend reading it under natural light, preferably outdoors – I spent much of my reading on my front porch, and it was a wonderful experience.

You should buy this book, you should read this book, and you should get others to read this book. Loan it to your priest, buy a copy for your uncle for Christmas, I guarantee that you, and they, will not be disappointed.

Also, if our guys out in Wyoming doesn’t start making actual Wyoming flags with Mount Calvary replacing the seal as a subtle dog-whistle, they’re making a huge mistake.