We lost a great American, a true gentleman, and a fine writer
when Tony Hillerman died Sunday in a hospital in Albuquerque at
83.
Hillerman served his country as a combat infantryman in WWII,
returning from Europe in 1945 with a silver star, a bronze star
with oak-leaf cluster, and a purple heart for wounds that never
completely healed. After the war he went on to a distinguished
career as a newspaperman and then a journalism professor in New
Mexico. All of this before 1970 when, at age 45, he published
The Blessing Way, the first of 18 mystery novels that
are his chief claim to our attention.
Hillerman also wrote several well-received nonfiction books about
the American Southwest, and a very readable memoir, Seldom
Disappointed, in 2001. But the 18 mysteries, featuring
Navajo Tribal Police officers Joe Leaphorn and Jim Chee, are his
monument and his considerable contribution to the Great American
Story. I recommend them to TAS readers. They entertain,
enlighten, and occasionally inspire. What more could you ask of
fiction?
There are endless literary empty calories to be found in the
mystery section of your bookstore (there are some fine writers
there as well -- list supplied on request -- so no nasty letters
from mystery readers, please), but none between the covers of
Hillerman's books. His intelligent handling of themes, his
complex and sympathetic characters from the various races and
cultures that live side-by-side in the Four Corners area (where
Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado come together), his
lyrical presentations of the vast and beautiful landscape of the
Southwest, and his compelling stories lift his work well above
genre fare.
Hillerman was neither the first nor the last to write about
American Indians and their culture, and how they engage, not
always without conflict or confusion, with the larger Anglo
culture around them. He just did it better than anyone else.
Hillerman's appreciation for American Indians and their culture
began when as a youngster he attended school with Potawatomie
Indians (and the odd Seminole) near his birthplace of Sacred
Heart, Oklahoma (population 38 when Hillerman was born). Indians
were poor, country people, just as Hillerman and his Dust
Bowl–era farm family were. So he had no trouble relating to them.
Characters in Hillerman's novels -- Indian, Anglo, Hispanic, and
anyone else -- are presented as full-service human beings, not
stereotypes. The Indian characters in his stories struggle with
contradictory desires to adhere to their tribal identity and to
be assimilated to the larger culture. Hillerman shows this
conflict in his stories but never speechifies about it. Unlike a
distressing number of other mystery/thriller writers, Hillerman
is not overtly political. His Indians are neither the plaster
saints of current liberal orthodoxy nor the villains or
primitives some once considered them. All of his characters,
Indian or otherwise, are people, not talking points.
The sympathetic and right-on-the-mark way that Hillerman
portrayed American Indians earned him the respect of the Navajos
and other tribes of the Four Corners who presented him with
various awards and included him in on tribal events. He tells the
story on an inter-tribal meeting shortly after the Washington
language police decided that American Indians should be called
Native Americans. Tony was curious about what real Indians
thought of this, so he asked. The boys chewed it over a bit and
concluded that as most Americans were native to this country it
was pretty silly to reserve Native American just for them. They
said they would prefer to be identified by their tribe, but if
not this, "Indian" would do fine, thanks. One guy contributed, "I
don't mind being called an Indian because Christopher Columbus
went looking for India and got lost. I'm just glad he wasn't
looking for Turkey."
IN NOVELS WITH NAMES like Skinwalkers, A Thief of
Time, Coyote Waits, Dance Hall of the
Dead, Hillerman gave us intricately plotted mysteries in an
unadorned prose style. His novels explore the human condition in
the subtle ways that literary novels are supposed to but so often
nowadays don't. The novels are morality plays, as all satisfying
fiction is.
Hillerman's recurring characters are engaging, so much so that
many read the later novels as much to see how things were going
with Leaphorn and Chee as they did for the whodunit and the
cultural travelogue. In the stories, these two get older, grow,
change, and evolve, just like real people do. Hillerman's stories
contain much of the fascinating and the unexpected, but little of
the unbelievable. Unlike so many writers in the thriller line,
Hillerman never puts undue demands on our willing suspension of
disbelief.
Hillerman's novels sold millions of copies, though never in the
volume of a Stephen King or a Tom Clancy. He hit the best-seller
lists frequently, acquired a loyal readership always eager for
the next book, and won every award and honor to be had in the
mystery field. By the time he was well into middle-age, the farm
boy from Sacred Heart was well-respected and well off. But by all
reports he never changed. He remained a humble, polite,
approachable man who never forgot where he came from and never
lost his sympathy for the underdog (coming from a farm in Dust
Bowl Oklahoma and being a private in the infantry can do this for
you).
I never had the privilege of meeting Hillerman, but two of my Bay
Area friends, both mystery writers themselves and regulars at the
writers' conference Tony made himself available for, did meet him
and counted themselves better off for the experiences. Diane Vogt
of Tampa (The Silicone Solution, Six Bills)
said in her meetings with Hillerman he was consistently
"congenial and self-effacing with no obvious author's ego -- and
always entertaining."
Rick Wilber of St. Petersburg (The Cold Road, Where
Garagiola Waits) calls Hillerman an entertaining
conversationalist who loved to talk about the craft and art of
writing. "When I think of Tony Hillerman I think of an old guy
out in the middle of nowhere driving a pickup truck on a dirt
road and trying to figure out the answer to something that really
puzzles him." Hillerman's daughter Anne would agree. She said her
father's curiosity about all things human was one of the things
that made his books so readable. "He could take little details
and bring them to life, not just in his books, but in
conversation," she told an AP writer.
Oh yeah, conversation. Some writers are good talkers, most
aren't. Tony was. First off he had exactly the kind of voice and
pacing you would expect a wise, gently humorous, old New Mexico
sourdough to have. Add to this the natural story-teller's sense
of timing and effect and you have one of the most engaging
speakers around. Test me on this one by visiting YouTube and
listen to Tony on the art of writing mysteries and on the
Southwest. He's also the reader on a number of his recorded
books. A treat to listen to.
The news of Tony's death will probably prompt me to pull down a
couple of my favorites of his. I'll doubtless enjoy going through
them again, but with a real touch of sadness knowing there will
be no more stories from Tony, who will be greatly missed by those
lucky enough to have known him, and by many more who didn't
except through his books.
Rest in peace, Tony. Thanks for the stories.
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