Elisabeth Grace Foley

Historical Fiction Author

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The Girl From Kilpatrick’s and Other Stories: a new collection of “lost” stories by B.M. Bower

May 24, 2017 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 6 Comments

If you’ve been around my blog or following me on Goodreads for a while, you probably know how I love old books. Classics, of course, but I also love discovering the charming “hidden gems” of yesterday’s popular fiction. This began for me when I first got a Kindle, and discovered how many public-domain books that I’d never even heard of were available for free as ebooks. As I got better acquainted with the public domain, though, I discovered that there were even more books that hadn’t made it to easy-access platforms like Kindle or Project Gutenberg. They’re available, in places like Internet Archive, but often in hard-to-read scanned editions that are full of glitches and typos. It’s pleasing yet frustrating to find another book by a favorite author and have to struggle through error-ridden pages where you spend half the time guessing what the words are supposed to be.

I’ve long daydreamed about “rescuing” some of these obscure books by producing clean, readable ebook editions. And last month I made my first experiment in that direction, with a short story by Booth Tarkington, The Spring Concert. I cleaned up the text, using the photo scan version at Internet Archive for comparison; I formatted it for Kindle. I even put my slowly-improving Gimp skills to use and made the cover myself. And for a finishing touch, I included a few of the original black-and-white illustrations from the story’s first magazine appearance in 1916.

But I’m even more excited about my second public-domain venture. Remember I mentioned in one of my weekend roundups that I’d discovered a treasure-trove of old fiction magazine archives? I immediately began looking through them for stories by favorite authors, initially just with the idea of reading them (using the FictionMags index for reference). At the top of my list was B.M. Bower. Though her pre-1924 novels are widely-available in the public domain, she wrote dozens of short stories for magazines, most of which have never been republished in book form. And so…

The Girl From Kilpatrick’s and Other Stories on Kindle

Here is the result: a collection of eight B.M. Bower short stories originally published in magazines between 1903 and 1907, which haven’t seen the light of day since!

If you’re like me and enjoy Bower’s novels, you’ll be delighted with these stories too. (My own personal favorites are “At the Gray Wolf’s Den,” “The Sheepherder” and “Pecos the Peeler,” but I enjoyed them all.) Each story stands alone, but Bower fans will recognize the lead characters in a couple of them from supporting or cameo roles in the Flying U series. Since it’s not my own work, aside from the formatting and design, I’ve put only the most nominal price of 99¢ on the ebook—and speaking in a strictly literary sense, that’s a pretty darn good bargain for eight good stories like this!

Do I have more “lost treasures” in mind for rescue? Absolutely! I don’t have any schedules or timeframe (cleaning up the text and formatting is rather tedious and exhausting work, so one can’t make a steady diet of it), but I definitely have some more titles in mind, and next on the list are some lesser-known works by another Western author. Stay tuned!

Filed Under: Reading, Short stories, Westerns

Western Short Fiction: A Cross-Section

May 12, 2016 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 3 Comments

It’s been a while since I’ve talked about Western fiction on here, and I decided it was time to do something about that. Today I’d like to share some short story collections by Western authors who’ve influenced much of what I’ve written in the genre so far.

Why did I begin by writing short stories myself? Well, probably because I thought the mindset of years back still prevailed—the years when hundreds of all-fiction magazines were the proving-ground for young authors. You started with short stories, got your name in front of the public, and then you graduated to novels. Also, at the time I got into indie publishing there was a lot of excited talk about short fiction undergoing a revival in the digital age because of convenience and short attention spans (although now many people are agreeing that the e-short renaissance never really materialized as much as they thought it would). Anyway, I began by writing short stories and I don’t regret it, because the work I put into them was so much honing of my writing skills.

When it comes to the Western genre, I think I’ve probably read equal amounts of novels and short fiction. But many of my favorite Western authors made their mark during that heyday of magazine fiction, and so about half the books on my list of top favorite Westerns are short story collections. Here are three of the best:

Heart of the West by O. Henry

Though perhaps best-known for his New York City stories, O. Henry spent a significant amount of his life in Texas and wrote around forty Western stories altogether. Only a baker’s dozen of them are collected in one all-Western volume, Heart of the West; the rest are scattered throughout his other collections. If you’ve got his Complete Works on your shelf like I do, you’re all set—but otherwise, Heart of the West is a good place to begin. When I talk about O. Henry’s Westerns here, though, I’m referring to his whole body of work. To get an idea of the variety of tone and subject, compare just a small sampling: “Madame Bo-Peep, of the Ranches,” a lyrical, almost-novelette-length ranch romance; “The Roads We Take,” a brief tale of outlaws with a twist ending that packs a sharp punch; “The Pimienta Pancakes,” a pure comedic cow-camp delight; “Art and the Bronco,” a wry combination of frontier legend with politics and publicity; and “Friends in San Rosario,” in which we are shown a small Texas town in which the early pioneers have settled down into leading citizens. All these, and more, show the same wit, wordplay and eye for colorful detail as the most famous of Henry’s stories, applied to the landscape of the turn-of-the-century West.

The Complete Western Stories of Elmore Leonard

I’ve long been meaning to re-read this volume from cover to cover and try to write a good review. I can’t 100% recommend every single story in it, but most of them are excellent. I’ve never read another author who can sketch character and setting and describe action in so few words. Leonard’s territory is the Southwest—there’s even a map at the beginning displaying the area in which most or all of the stories are set—a desert landscape of Army posts and Apache reservations, abandoned silver mines and adobe villages. Often the stories build high suspense, from the well-known “3:10 to Yuma” to the highly creative “Under the Friar’s Ledge.” Many of them—and I’d say this is a defining feature of the collection—take a familiar Western scenario, such as the pursuit of bank robbers by a posse in “Blood Money” or cattle thieving in “The Rustlers,” and lift it to another level through a keen focus on the interplay between characters.

 

The Hanging Tree by Dorothy M. Johnson

I’ve always hated the idea of a divide between “westerns” and “serious historical fiction,” but the best way I can think of to describe Dorothy Johnson’s writing is that it bridges that gap completely. Her characters and her stories are complex and the outcome often bittersweet, and in reading them one glimpses the scope of the whole West against whose backdrop they are set. Each story in the collection is equally well-crafted and will stick in your memory, but my favorites are the poignant “The Gift by the Wagon,” the title novella “The Hanging Tree,” and the rare dash of humor in “I Woke Up Wicked,” a tongue-in-cheek tale of a cowboy who “accidentally” joins an outlaw gang.

What is it that these three very different authors have in common? I’ve thought about it, and noticed three things.

  • One: good writing. I don’t need to elaborate on this; read any of them and you’ll see that for yourself. Each author’s style is different, but their command of the English language is uniformly excellent.
  • Two: unexpectedness. We all know about O. Henry’s famed twist endings, but one thing that I noticed and appreciated about both Leonard’s and Johnson’s stories was that in very few could I make a guess at how they would end. As I’ve said before, I don’t think you have to avoid the tropes of the Western genre to achieve originality or unexpectedness; I think the key lies in filling those situations with well-developed, complex human characters, who will make the reader question what they’re going to do next.
  • Three: variety. All three of these writers successfully mined the wide, colorful panoply of characters and situations the American West has to offer. Pile all three of their works together and survey the casts of characters and you will see what I mean: men, women and children; black, white, Mexican and Indian; miners, soldiers, settlers, sheep ranchers, cooks, storekeepers, schoolteachers, politicians, doctors, bankers, plus plenty of appearances by the three essential figures of lawman, outlaw and cowboy.

Have you read any of these stories? Which were your favorites, and why?

    Filed Under: Short stories, Westerns

    The Bird of Dawning: A Christmas Story

    December 24, 2015 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 6 Comments

    colorado-996174_640I wrote this short story last week, when I felt like writing something and knew that it had to be a Christmas story…and perhaps in order to revel in a little vicarious snow and ice. I had run across a favorite passage from Shakespeare quoted in Washington Irving’s Old Christmas, and it inspired me to do a little brainstorming. A Western Christmas story, because I’ve never really tried that before…drawing on that quotation. I decided I’d share it here, even though it’s rather longer than any fiction I usually post on my blog…because it’s Christmas.

    As of 2020, this story and four more are now available in the collection Outlaw Fever: Five Western Stories.

    * * *

    A million diamonds glinted in the smooth, untouched white curve of snow in the basin, struck out by the sun that pierced the bright silver-white sky. The bitter wind whisked across it, kicking up little powdery swirls. Cal Rayburn turned up the collar of his sourdough coat with one hand, hunching his shoulders a little so the collar half covered his ears. He squinted at the blinding-bright landscape, and one side of his cold-numbed lips twisted back a little in a half-smile. Not another human being for miles, but still he fancied he could feel an odd festivity in the air. What did it come from, he wondered? The fields and mountains looked the same as they did every day. If he had not known it was Christmas Eve day, would he still have felt it?

    Cal reined his horse to a stop at the crest of a white rise, and looked back over his shoulder toward the rampart of mountains that towered over the line camp. Their white peaks were seamed with black and silver where the wind scoured the snow from the rock faces, their lower slopes heavy with snowy pines. As he looked, a wind roused among the trees of the nearest slope, blowing clouds of snow like white smoke shot with crystal from their laden branches. The beauty of it caught in Cal’s chest and almost hurt. It was moments like these that he didn’t mind being alone out here.

    His horse stood hock-deep in the trampled snow, its head tucked down a little against the wind. Cal scanned the empty, untracked basin again—no sign of cattle; they would all be back in the shoulder of some sheltering hill, or deep under the pines. No sign of anything. He smiled, and his lips formed the words softly aloud: “Here shall he see no enemy…but winter and rough weather.”

    His horse swiveled a blue-dun ear backward, inquiringly. It was a habit that had grown on Cal from his grandfather. Gramps had always been a well of quotations: poetry, Shakespeare mostly, bits of psalms and other scriptures—an apt phrase for any occasion, and some things that sounded surprising coming from a little dried-up old man who’d been a farmer and blacksmith all his life; but the beauty of them you couldn’t deny. Gramps had set store by that.

    “When you got some beauty in your mind, boy,” he would say, “it don’t matter how ugly a place you’re in. You get by.”

    Well, there was nothing ugly here…except the aloneness.

    [Read more…]

    Filed Under: Christmas, Short stories, Westerns

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