Joe Lansdale, Guest of Honor at the 2017 ECOF (an annual gathering of Edgar Rice Burroughs fans), has written over forty novels and countless short stories, most often set in the piney woods of contemporary East Texas. His reputation does not come from creating exotic new worlds, imagining science of the future, or regularly setting chaste but profound romances with desirable heroines at the center of his tales. So why would I say that he is an ERB literary heir?
From April through July, I was immersed in Joe Lansdale’s writing and read thirty-six of his books – novels, novellas, and short-story collections. It seemed close to an addiction, even more intense than my continuing affair with Edgar Rice Burroughs’ novels. So I may not be a cool and judicious analyst of this matter.
Like one of his evil, sadistic, East Texas sumbitches, Joe’s work sort of crept up on me from behind. Next thing I knew I was seeing stars. It began on April 4, which I know because that’s the date I downloaded his Leather Maiden and started reading. I blame my casual book club.
In “A Reader’s Journey: How I Became the World’s Oldest Living Edgar Rice Burroughs Newbie” (ERB-APA #122), I detailed how my serious book club had led me so far down a rabbit hole that as a grandfather (!) I ended up discovering Burroughs’ tales of Barsoom and beyond for the first time, which in turn has led me here.
When my casual book club assigned Leather Maiden for this past April, it didn’t sound interesting to me. I’m not a crime/mystery/noir fan, not even close. Strike one. Plus our club’s book-selection motto militated against it: Res concupiscime, brevissime tamen, which we’ve been led to believe is Latin for “We prefer prurience but require brevity.” Despite the book’s suggestive title, I could tell right off that it was very far from an erotic thriller. At over 300 pages, it was also a tad long for our tastes. Strike two.
But wait. The author, I had subsequently learned, would be coming to our ECOF in June. I read it anyway.
I could not have anticipated my response. I loved the book. I’d heard about the “Hap and Leonard” television series from friends who are serious James Purefoy fans, and so my next move was to read Savage Season, the first book in Lansdale’s series of “country noir” novels, novellas, and stories about blue-collar besties, Hap Collins (white, progressive, sensitive, idealistic, heterosexual, Vietnam-War resister) and Leonard Pine (black, conservative, jaded, homosexual, Vietnam-War hero). You don’t want to get on the bad side of either one, much less both, although it’s pretty much the same thing.
Along with the Hap and Leonard books, I picked up other novels. I bought Edge of Dark Water and A Fine Dark Line at the ECOF and later The Bottoms and The Thicket. There were many more, including Cold in July, which was adapted for a great film starring Michael C. Hall, Sam Shepard, and Don Johnson. I kept thinking each time that “now I’ve finally read his best book” – until I read the next one. A new Hap and Leonard novel is due next year: Jackrabbit Smile.
To summarize, Joe’s books have mesmerized me, excited and charmed me, and given me as much unexpected pleasure as any writer since Edgar Rice Burroughs.
The Finest Art
Joe Lansdale was an extremely popular choice for the 2017 ECOF. He was with us the entire time, enthusiastically engaged with everyone, and brought the weekend event to a thrilling crescendo Saturday night with a rousing display of the talent and verve that have earned him the honorific, “Champion Mojo Storyteller.”
That’s the essence of my case, though not all of it. Burroughs, of course, has long worn well the monikers “Master of Adventure” and “Master Storyteller” – and with good reason. Both authors’ works easily justify their renown. And these are no mean titles.
We often take stories for granted these days. They bombard us continuously. Entertainment and news media feed on them. Politicians, CEOs, religious leaders, charities, etc. must have them. Unedited, unpaid writers can and do post endless stories on the Internet. Millions upon millions of people try to get our attention with stories. Imagine how much talent and work it must require to stand so high above the crowd.
Stories are key to understanding ourselves and others and our interactions. Storytelling was our earliest art, and when it is done well it can reach our primal core.
A great story well told may be the finest art.
Who Is Joe Lansdale?
He is a native of East Texas who can fairly be described as a white, progressive, heterosexual man well into middle age who resisted the Vietnam war. If that sounds a lot like Hap Collins, then you’ve been paying attention. You can add atheist to the list, which, like the other descriptors, often shows up in his writing.
His father, Alceebe (“Bud”), was an illiterate auto mechanic who used racist language but who regularly helped out his black neighbors. Even in his sixties, he beat up a much younger man for trying to take advantage of a black woman. Bud Lansdale was a strong, physical man who engendered in Joe a lifelong interest in the martial arts. Joe has taught martial arts, invented his own recognized discipline (Shen Chuan), and is in the International Martial Arts Hall of Fame.
His mother, O’Reta, had an eleventh-grade education and shared with young Joe her love of books. He was known as a precocious and voracious reader, who trained in the martial arts as a youth in part because his reputation made him the occasional target of bullies. That training has served him well throughout his life, notably including in his writing. If you want to see just how fast and dangerous a guy past sixty can be, check out the first video in the links at the end of this post.
Lansdale likes to point out that, among the many jobs from his early days, which included working in rose fields and an aluminum-chair plant, he was a janitor at the university where he is now the writer-in-residence: Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas.
Lansdale Does Burroughs
Lansdale has repeatedly emphasized the effect Burroughs had on his decision to pursue writing as a career. This is an example of the form in which he often puts it: “Burroughs really set my youthful imagination on fire. I wanted to be a writer early on, but when I read him at eleven years old, I had to be.”
The East Texan has paid tribute to Burroughs in many ways. Most prominent is his completion of an untitled Tarzan novel the master had left unfinished in his safe. The “typescript of eighty-three pages” was “scarcely more than an outline,” observed Burroughs scholar George T. McWhorter in his Preface to the resulting book, Tarzan: The Lost Adventure (1995). Lansdale is the only author ever to share writing credit for a Burroughs novel.
Joe has written two excellent, Burroughs-based short stories which are included in collections: “The Metal Men of Mars,” a John Carter story that appears in Under the Moons of Mars: New Adventures on Barsoom (2012), and his crossover tale, “Tarzan and the Land That Time Forgot,” for Worlds of Edgar Rice Burroughs (2013).
In 2013, he also published a laugh-out-loud spoof of the Tarzan novels titled The Ape-Man’s Brother, a putative tell-all exposé of The Big Guy’s previously unreported life away from home. Early in the story the ape-narrator notes that “Much has been written about The Big Guy, and I want to say right here and now, the one who wrote the most about him, claimed he was my man’s main biographer, had no business telling the story in the first place.”
Not only has he worked with Burroughs characters directly, but he has mentioned them and the author himself throughout his other novels and stories. He surely must be unique in the extent to which he has sprinkled ERB tags throughout his fiction, and you will see in a later section numerous examples of those references.
How Lansdale Is Like Burroughs – and Unlike Him
Just to summarize the evidence of the storytelling genius of these two writers, they are addictive. It’s basically magic, but here are some of their shared attributes. First, both develop protagonists the reader cares about. Second, their stories generally have a lot of heart. You’ll often find yourself getting a tear-jerking lump in your throat. Third, just when you think you can relax a bit in their stories, turns out you can’t. They keep the narrative drive up in the higher gears. Fourth, you can usually count on a satisfactory conclusion; i.e. the bad guys get it in the end, big time. Fifth, regular readers are rewarded with recurring characters, even in unrelated stories. Sixth, they excel at exciting and credible fight scenes from their own life experiences. Seventh, they are both comfortable writing in multiple genres, including westerns, fantasy – and even zombies. Finally, both share a negative view of organized religion. As a popular writer in the early 20th century, Burroughs was well advised to keep his skeptical attitude toward religion to himself, although he provided many subtle and some not-so-subtle suggestions about it in his stories. There is less pressure for circumspection in this century.
Their differences are fewer but obvious. Here’s a big one: most of the Lansdale novels I’ve read involve intricate plotting (he would argue it’s not always premeditated) which builds to logical conclusions with substantial character development/revelation in the process. Burroughs’ novels, by contrast, are often episodic adventures of relatively one-dimensional characters who simply overcome one intriguing obstacle after another. Second, Lansdale is far darker and more graphic with violence than Burroughs, which is a reflection of contemporary standards. Burroughs, born and raised in Victorian times, would surely pale at Lansdale’s vocabulary. Third, Lansdale has published many more short stories in more widely diverse genres than Burroughs, who primarily wrote novels from the beginning. Genre segmentation, too, was largely a post-ERB development. Lansdale’s novels also reflect a broad, genre range – and he is notable for the regularity of his genre mash-ups.
Perhaps the most striking and, for ERB, unfortunate difference between the two is that Lansdale during his lifetime has been honored by his peers almost more times than you can count, another reflection of changing times. The same writers who grew up on Burroughs and his colleagues, who owe them much, today take care to recognize the best of their own. Fan conventions even invite them as guests of honor. How lucky I am that our 2017 ECOF secured Joe R. Lansdale as Guest of Honor!
If you’re game to read some of Joe’s best work, I’d suggest you start by dipping into the Hap and Leonard series, which begins with Savage Season. The books are probably best read in chronological order because, like a multi-year television drama series, the characters evolve and their circumstances change.
To ease into Lansdale, Hap and Leonard: Blood and Lemonade is a tamer starting point. It’s a series of short stories of their youth, a kind of Jungle-Tales-of-Tarzan intro to the more intense novels in the series. Another low-impact entry (re: violence, not emotional power) is Fender Lizards, a young-adult novel which is also a great story for adults.
Other favorites of mine include The Bottoms, A Fine Dark Line, Cold in July, Edge of Dark Water, Lost Echoes, Leather Maiden (which turned me on to Lansdale), Sunset and Sawdust, and Paradise Sky. That last one is a western based on Deadwood Dick, a legend of the pulps. Joe has called it his favorite. As an ERB fan, you will also want to read Tarzan: The Lost Adventure if you haven’t already. The fact is, though, irrespective of these selections, I’ve liked all his books that I’ve read.
If you enjoy Joe’s books even half as much as I, you’ll thank me. Take the plunge!
SELECTED QUOTES/REFERENCES FROM JOE R. LANSDALE RE: EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
Essays and Interviews
Then came the building of that local library, and I read dog stories that told me dogs were noble and true and loyal and fine, and I believed it. I read adventure stories, and mystery stories, and horror stories, and finally, Edgar Rice Burroughs. The world cracked open then, and showed me dimensions that were sideways, threw me on a tilt-a-whirl full of magic that made all the magic that came before as small and dim as a birthday cake candle. It’s hard to beat a world where all the women are beautiful and go naked, and men carry swords, monsters are slain, and it’s all a simple morality tale. For boys, swords, naked women, and simple views are way cool. And did I mention naked women? (“Introduction,” Crucified Dreams)
Burroughs really set my youthful imagination on fire. I wanted to be a writer early on, but when I read him at eleven years old, I had to be. (Writer’s Bone interview, “Imagination on Fire: 10 Questions with Author Joe R. Lansdale,” August 16, 2016)
Long before I went to first grade, I was reading. By the time I was nine or ten, I was reading The Iliad and all those sorts of things. By the time I was eleven – and I had always wanted to be a writer, and I had written stories and poems by the time I was nine – but by the time I was eleven I read Edgar Rice Burroughs. I read A Princess of Mars, and I was doomed then. I had wanted to be it, and now I had to be it. To this day he’s my sentimental favorite author. Certainly he’s dated, there’s a lot of things you can say, that it doesn’t hold up in some ways. In other ways there’s a magic that Burroughs has that’s lasted with me forever….
In the story, John Carter stretches out his arms to Mars and wants to be pulled across to Mars – and he is, or at least his astral body, which becomes a firm body. And I went out into the yard and did that. Carl Sagan did it. Lots of people who read those books did that. And at the time I didn’t think it worked. Now I look back, and I think it did work. Because I was pulled across the universe, and I have had the most marvelous life, and I got to do exactly what I wanted to do. I’ve made a good living out of it, I’ve had a good career. I never expected to have this much success. I just wanted to tell stories. (Video interview with Del Howison at the 2012 World Horror Convention)
We are trapped in the drive-in.
Time goes by, no one knows how much. It’s like the Edgar Rice Burroughs stories of Pellucidar. Without the sun or moon to judge by, time does not exist. (“Hell Through a Windshield”)
Mom introduced me to Tarzan movies on television, perhaps to get me out of her hair. Every Saturday morning there was Jungle Theater with Tarzan, Jungle Jim, Bomba the Jungle Boy, that sort of thing, and every Saturday morning I was glued to the tube. I looked forward to it all week. Later, I discovered Edgar Rice Burroughs, the author of the Tarzan books, and my life was absolutely turned around. I had always wanted to be a writer, but when I started reading Burroughs, I knew I had to be.
Again, I owe it all to Mom. (“O’Reta, Snapshot Memories,” Mad Dog Summer)
Jesse and I liked to play Tarzan, and we took turns at it until we finally both decided to be Tarzan, and ended up being Tarzan twins. It was a great mythology we created, and we ran the woods and climbed trees, and on Saturday we watched Jungle Theater at my house, which showed, if we were lucky, Tarzan or Jungle Jim movies, and if not so lucky, Bomba movies. (Hap Collins, “The Boy Who Became Invisible”)
“Let me tell you about nudity for health, Zorro. Tried it when I was twelve. Stripped off and played Tarzan. Climbed up in a tree and got a sunburn, damn near fried my pecker off, turned my ass the color of a Washington apple.” (Jim Bob Luke, Captains Outrageous)
I thought a little more about what Marvin had shown us, and then I thought about [my girlfriend] Brett, but that made me miss her. So I thought about something that soothed me as a kid. I was a man in a rocket ship, traveling through space, on my way to a brave new world. I was in a container with a mild unseen, odorless gas that was putting me in suspended animation. I would awake just before arrival and guide the ship in. It would be a world full of beautiful plants and weird animals, but there I would be strong. Like John Carter of Mars my Earth muscles would give me incredible strength and abilities on a world where there was lesser gravity. I would end up with a sword and I would kill monsters and get the girl in the end, and she would look like Brett. (Hap Collins, Devil Red)
Not that I’m bitter about it or anything. Him banging my ex-wife and being built like Tarzan and not losing any of his hair at the age of forty didn’t bother me a bit. (“The Events Concerning a Nude Fold-Out Found in a Harlequin Romance”)
May Bloom, the town librarian, who had grown so foul in her old age. No longer willing to help the boys find new versions of King Arthur or order the rest of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Mars series….
And Harold thought of…how Mrs. Bloom had introduced him to Edgar Rice Burroughs. (“The Fat Man”)
My thought was, if Richard were in a plane that crashed in the jungle, he would survive and become somebody like Tarzan. (A Fine Dark Line)
It was the edge of a metal box sticking out of the ground. I was immediately excited, thought perhaps I had discover some kind of pirate treasure chest, the edge of a flying device from Mars, or perhaps, as in one of the books I was reading that summer, At the Earth’s Core, by Edgar Rice Burroughs, the tip of a metal mole machine burrowing up from the surface. (A Fine Dark Line)
She had also seen all the Tarzan movies from the balcony of the Palace Theater, where all the coloreds watched. (A Fine Dark Line)
Next day I spent in a lawn chair pulled up nest to the projection booth, reading in its shade a book by Edgar Rice Burroughs called Tarzan the Terrible….
“How’s that book? That the one where Tarzan finds them dinosaurs, people that’s got tails?” (A Fine Dark Line)
There was a great light from the fire, but as the wind whipped it, it grew greater and flicked and flowed like levitating lava, rose up high against the sky. There were shadows and shapes of people dancing around the fire. I was reminded of the old Tarzan books—where they had dum-dums, which was a kind of wild party of apes with Tarzan himself, dancing and whirling, working themselves into a frenzy. (Hap Collins, Honky Tonk Samurai)
Then me and Jimmy slipped off and went to our old room. He looked at the planes hanging from the ceiling. “I used to lie on the top bunk and look at those planes, pretend I was in them, and that I was flying away,” he said.
“Where were you going?”
“Everywhere. Anywhere. Sometimes I was flying through a hole in the South Pole, going to the center of the earth where there was a world full of dinosaurs and cavemen and beautiful women who couldn’t live without my intense manly loving.”
“At the Earth’s Core.”
“We read the same books.”
“And played the same games,” I said.
“You played Tarzan,” Jimmy said. “Remember that? I had to be the monkey, and you were Tarzan. I don’t know how you worked that out, but that was the way it was. You remember.”
“I do,” I said. “I climbed up in that elm where Jazzy stays, in my underwear, and got the sunburn from hell.”
“You kept giving the cry of the bull ape, demanding all apes come to your aid. But none of them would.”
“The bastards.” (Leather Maiden)
His mother one day, sitting by his bed, talking into his good left ear, said, “There are new shows, you know? These were old when your daddy and I married, baby. These are the dinosaurs of television.”
“I like them,” Harry said. “I like Tarzan.”
“There were lots of Tarzans. Not just this one. Some of them were even in color.”
“I like this one.”
“All right,” his mother said, standing, moving toward the door. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
When she was gone, Harry turned his attention back to Johnny Weissmuller swinging through the trees on a vine. He thought he saw a kind of bar that Tarzan was hanging onto, and he wondered about that. Did they have that in the jungle? Vines with bars to hang onto? (Lost Echoes)
A chicken snake, big enough to play a starring role in a Tarzan movie, slithered quickly across the floor and disappeared into a gap in the wood. (Hap Collins, Mucho Mojo)
At one time there was a great oak tree behind the house where Leonard was living then, and the oak was deep in the woods, and it was one of the last of the great oaks. It stood tall and thick and ancient. It had great limbs you could crawl up on and stretch out on and sleep without real fear of falling off.
We called it the Robin Hood tree, like the great tree where Robin and his merry band of men gathered to talk and feast. I also thought of it as the Tarzan tree, imagined how you could build a treehouse on its massive limbs and have plenty of room to live with a lithe, blonde Jane and do more than call elephants and swing on vines. (Hap Collins, “The Oak and the Pond”)
We called it the Robin Hood tree, like the humongous tree where Robin and his merry band gathered to talk and feast. I also called it the Tarzan tree, imagined how you could build a tree house on its wide limbs and have plenty of room to live with a lithe, blond Jane and do more than call elephants and swing on vines. I guess Leonard might have dreamed of having Tarzan as his mate, though no doubt, he would have made Tarzan his bitch. (Hap Collins, Rusty Puppy)
All I remembered was that it was not on the river proper, but off of it, and deep down in the bottoms at a place that looked like something out of a Tarzan movie. (Hap Collins, Savage Season)
Lee, dreaming he was Tarzan asleep in a tree with Jane in his arms, awoke to the sound of a moan. (Sunset and Sawdust)
“In that one story I read, a man goes to Mars by just holding out his arms and wishing he were there. He went, and he saw a strange world with strange beings and monsters. I really enjoyed that story, and standing here one night, with Mars, not the moon, in my scope, I considered doing the same. Then it occurred to me, what if it worked and I went? It would be worse than here, with all those monsters he wrote about, and me out there on Mars, and it being dry and no trees. I liked reading it, but I decided I would not like living it after all, having enough problems without compounding them with Martians.” (Shorty, The Thicket)
Not long after Shorty died I got to considering on the adventure we had together….
I looked for a long time at the stars, thinking about Shorty and him telling me about reading a book about a man who spread his arms and went to Mars, or at least some part of him did. I thought it might be nice if that happened to Shorty. Then I realized he didn’t want that anymore. He was happy. (The Thicket)
We were sharing some old books written by Michael Moorcock under the name Edward P. Bradbury. They were pastiches of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and they were fast and fun and pretty mindless. (Hap Collins, The Two-Bear Mambo)
Below is a list, not in alphabetical order, of references that were used in reconstructing the events of this true adventure….
AT THE EARTH’S CORE, (First published as “The Inner World”) Edgar Rice Burroughs, 1913; 1922 as the novel.
TARZAN AT THE EARTH’S CORE, Edgar Rice Burroughs, 1930. (Burroughs’ acquaintances David Innes and Abner Perry, like Verne’s explorers, only succeeded in exploring the level above hell, and thought it was the core. Several massive pockets, or worlds, as well as natural “suns” exist throughout the Earth. But the true core, is hell. Burroughs also wrote other books about the center of the Earth, and though certain truths are hidden within, they are generally fiction based on the early adventures of Abner Perry and David Innes best described in the volume below.)
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE CENTER OF THE WORLD, Abner Perry, 1918, SUBTERRANEAN PRESS. [A tedious but informative work said to have been submitted via Gridley Wave from the center of the Earth (see above), outlining their adventures in a land called Pellucidar.] (“Way Down There,” Mad Dog Summer)
ADDITIONAL QUOTES FROM JOE R. LANSDALE
Essays and Interviews
Natural storytelling is not the same as plot. People think plot is storytelling. Plot is a clockwork mechanism that can be very effective and I can read that sort of thing. But as a write, I don’t mind taking trails off to talk about characters that you may want to know more about, or even peripheral characters that may have an impact on the story. (Video interview at the World Horror Convention, 2012)
The bottom line is this, telling stories, writing stories, is about telling convincing lies. [Author’s Note, “The Shadows, Kith and Kin” (The Shadows, Kith and Kin)]
Dave Davies: Parts of Hap’s biography square pretty well with yours.
Joe Lansdale: Yeah, they do, a whole lot. (“Fresh Air,” NPR, February 24, 2016)
I lived a very happy life. I never felt poor. Our family euphemism was that we were broke, which I think psychologically gave you a different feeling. (“Fresh Air,” NPR, February 24, 2016)
I’m not opposed to religion if you keep it out of my life. (“The Quietus,” March 13, 2016)
Now at this time, Dad was pushing sixty, and that was back when sixty was old. He had gained a lot of weight and was tired looking, but back in his younger days he had been a boxer and a carnival wrestler. He had a kind of strength, especially when he was younger, that was almost startling. It wasn’t built-up gym stuff, it was working-man muscle, compacted and flexed and stretched by hard work from the time he was a child. He didn’t look like much, but neither does a stick of dynamite. (Hap Collins, “Apollo Red”)
“Daddy, the one that did that to that colored woman?”
“Miss Sykes, son. She had a name. We know it now.”
“Yes, sir. One did that . . . He still around?”
Daddy had the bologna in his hand, and was cutting it with the pocketknife.
“I don’t know, son . . . I doubt it.”
It was then, for the first time, I thought my Daddy might have lied to me. (The Bottoms)
“Well, hell, let’s go see her. She might be up better for conversation than these men folks. They can’t stand to be disagreed with. There ain’t a thing they don’t know. They ain’t even half the cussers they think they are neither. (The Bottoms)
The LaBorde Daily…is as close to being a real newspaper as a water hose is to being a snake. (Cold in July)
“Don’t you just love women? They can squeeze a dollar bill till it farts—no offense ma’am.” (Jim Bob Luke, Cold in July)
Goober’s chili was supposed to be as distinctive as a chicken with dentures. (“Death by Chili”)
The whole area wasn’t exactly what you’d call a great place to hang out….It was the kind of place where the mice belonged to gangs. (Hap Collins, Devil Red)
Everyone in the room was so quiet we could hear their IQs drop. Of course, they didn’t have far to fall. (Hap Collins, Devil Red)
He was dead and dried up, like a salesman’s heart. (Edge of Dark Water)
She looked tough as a free steak. (Fender Lizards)
One night in late October, on my birthday, we invited Leonard and John over. (Hap Collins, Honky Tonk Samurai; Lansdale’s birthday is Oct. 28.)
I…took the photo of Donny and looked it over. He looked like the usual, pimple-faced, sassy ass kid. It was a full body shot, and it reminded me of the photos I’d seen of Billy the Kid, only without the cowboy hat, the rifle, and the six-gun on his hip. But it had the same attitude about it. The rifle and six-gun had been replaced by sagging pants and tennis shoes that looked too big for his feet. The laces were untied. That’s showing them. (Hap Collins, Hyenas)
“Look here, kid. Get a shower, and let’s see we can do something about those pimples. You just aren’t washing your face good. And I got some stuff you can put on them. Even a natural beauty, a goddamn goddess like me, gets a bump.” (Brett Sawyer, Hyenas)
The house was as empty as a politician’s promise. (Lost Echoes)
“You got the car. You got your license. It’s Friday night. What you ought to do is go out. What you gonna sit here for?”
“I suggest you do. Girls are pretty nice things to think about. You ain’t got the fanciest ride in the world there, but you can go on dates, you know. You got to ask a girl, though. I always found out, you didn’t ask them, they didn’t show up.” (Lost Echoes)
“She’s a goddamn babe. I seen her wear a pair of pants tighter to her skin than a tattoo.” (Lost Echoes)
There’s no one more obnoxious and self-righteous than the self-made man. And no one more admirable. (Hap Collins, Mucho Mojo)
Some nights after we’d done our chores we’d sit in the main room and he’d read aloud for an hour or two from one of his books. In spite of myself I was learning a thing or two about all manner of subjects, some of which I thought might be helpful in life. Others I couldn’t imagine being of use under any circumstance, but another thing I learned from Mr. Loving was that knowledge was a pleasure for its own sake and didn’t need to have no day-to-day purpose. (Paradise Sky)
He was the kind of man that would try and give you goat shit and tell you it was raisins. (Paradise Sky)
She grabbed my head and pulled my face to hers and kissed me. It was for me the finest moment in my life. That kiss was like fire. It lit my lips. It lit my head. It lit my heart. It lit my soul. I was ablaze with passion.
That first loving kiss, the one that comes out of you from the source of your personal river, and the one that comes from her that is the same, there’s never another moment like it; never another flame that burns so hot. It can never be that good again, ever. All manner of goodness can come after, but it’s different. And that’s a good thing, because if we burned that hot for too long, we’d be nothing but ash. (Paradise Sky)
I closed my eyes thinking to relax a moment, but I went out like a candle in a high wind. (Paradise Sky)
It was all absolutely juvenile, but we had done it for years, and I think that ribbing each other over everything from sex to hair loss was our way of connecting; verbal comfort food. (Hap Collins, Rusty Puppy)
Over-confidence is the way to give your soul to the devil an inch at a time. (Hap Collins, Savage Season)
Talk about money is like talk about fish. Both grow in the telling. (Hap Collins, Savage Season)
She was on her back wearing only the top half of her dress, because the bottom half had been ripped away when Pete, during the process of beating her, had stepped on it, and the dress, rotten as politics, had torn and left her clothed only from waist to shoulders. (Sunset and Sawdust)
As the sun rose, pink and oozing through the woods like a leaky blood blister, Sunset discovered she too was bleeding. (Sunset and Sawdust)
The trees held the day’s heat like an armpit in a seersucker suit. (Sunset and Sawdust)
“See you around?”
Sunset thought a moment. She really wasn’t sure about anything, but she said, “Yeah. I’ll be around. See me again, hope I’ll look better than I look now. I’m not normally this ugly.”
“And I’m not normally this dirty. But I’m always this ugly.” (Sunset and Sawdust)
“Changeable weather teaches a man to be changeable hisself. You can’t learn character when everything is smooth.” (Sunset and Sawdust)
“I been conned by one man, maybe two now. I’m thinking, and I don’t want to be conned by my own father. I had one more worry and one less friend, I’d be Job.” (Sunset and Sawdust)
It was like I was too dry to cry. I wanted to but couldn’t. Lula was the same way. That’s how we Parkers were. We took what came the way it came. Least it was that way on the surface. You scratched us a little, though, you could find some jelly there pretty quick. We were the kind that found it hard to cry, but once we got started you best be ready for high water and the loading of animals two by two. (The Thicket)
I got off work and went home and showered the sweat off and read from a little book by an author who didn’t use quotation marks and was scared to death his work might be entertaining. (Hap Collins, Vanilla Ride)
The moon was still up, a sliver scimitar in the sky. (Hap Collins, Vanilla Ride)
[Video: martial arts demonstration] The Funky Werepig Lansdale pt3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EVQbuFt5vNk&t=345s
[Video: interview] Joe Lansdale Interviewed at WHC 2012: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=poCIRslL5H8
A Fresh Discovery, Three Decades in the Making: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/08/us/joe-r-lansdale-is-a-fresh-discovery-decades-in-the-making.html
Darkness on the Edge of Town: http://www.texasmonthly.com/the-culture/darkness-on-the-edge-of-town/
‘Hap and Leonard’ Creator Needed To ‘Burn Bridges’ To Make It as a Writer: http://www.npr.org/2016/02/24/467946095/hap-and-leonard-creator-needed-to-burn-bridges-to-make-it-as-a-writer
At the Drive-In: Joe R. Lansdale Interviewed: http://thequietus.com/articles/19876-joe-r-lansdale-author-interview-hap-and-leonard-cold-in-july
THIS POST ORIGINALLY APPEARED IN THE PRINT PUBLICATION “ERB-APA” #134