67. "The Last Picture Show" by Larry McMurtry

I wanted to read Larry McMurtry's The Last Picture Show because he alluded to it quite frequently in Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen. And I wasn't disappointed: It's a sometimes funny, sometimes sad coming-of-age story set in a small Texas town. The three protagonists, teenagers facing the end of high school and the beginning of the rest of their lives, struggle to define who they are and what they want and how to achieve those desires.

As much as I enjoyed this novel--and I did--I don't plan to read the sequels. McMurtry revisited these characters in several subsequent novels, but I think I prefer to keep them eternally teenaged in my mind, on the cusp of an unrealized adulthood.

47. "In Search of the Old Ones" by David Roberts

David Roberts provides a comprehensive, cogent introduction to the Anasazi in In Search of the Old Ones: Exploring the Anasazi World of the Southwest. Combining history and academic discourse with travelogue, the book discusses the development of our knowledge of the Anasazi, the puzzle of their disappearance, ethical issues surrounding excavations and archaeological work, and their connections to today's Pueblo tribes.

Roberts interviews professional archaeologists, descendants of the ranchers who first excavated Anasazi sites a century ago, park rangers, Pueblo tribe spokespeople and archaeologists, and self-taught Anasazi aficionados. He visits prominent sites such as Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon and also, both on his own and with others, explores the back-country canyons of the Four Corners area for unexploited dwellings, rock art, and other traces of Anasazi life. Roberts, clearly an accomplished mountaineer and climber, describes amazing scenery and incredible experiences but remains vague about where many of the sites he discusses are located. This stems in part from promises to guides who showed him certain sites and in part to his own scruples--with which I doubt most readers would disagree, particularly after reading about how weather, careless archaeologists, and fortune-seeking "pot-hunters" have devastated some important sites.

Roberts presents varying theories, such as why the Anasazi disappeared, clearly and fairly. While he sometimes makes his own perspective known, he nonetheless gives credence and voice to others who hold different views. I've come away from this work with much more knowledge about Anasazi history, development, and art, as well as a desire to see some of these sites for myself--and the resolution to take a road trip to Mesa Verde this spring.

36. "Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen" by Larry McMurtry

I have yet to read any of Larry McMurtry's fiction--a situation I plan to remedy soon--but I very much enjoyed his nonfiction Roads: Driving America's Great Highways. So I was eager to read Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen: Reflections at Sixty and Beyond. It did not disappoint.

McMurtry discusses Benjamin's essay on storytellers, written in 1936, the year of his (McMurtry's) birth. From there, he discusses the role of Dairy Queen as a community gathering spot for Archer City, the Texas panhandle town where he grew up and lives today. He then delves into his family background, talking about his grandparents' settling of Archer County at the same time Europe was swept by Freudian thought. He analyzes the European literature of madness, the literature of the American West, and the (often silent) stories of madness in the American West. He shares stories of the Texas land and its people, including the old woman who was sold to a trader at age 13 for a winter's worth of skunk pelts. He discusses some of his own books, including the effect The Last Picture Show--which became a movie filmed in Archer City--has had on the town's mythology. Finally, he discusses reading and bookscouting, shares tales from his years in the antiquarian book trade, and explains why he thinks bookselling is a better complement to writing (at least for him) than teaching proved to be.

He reconnects with Benjamin at various points. This sometimes works as a common theme to connect his various tales, but sometimes feel contrived.

Apart from this one shortcoming, however, Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen is an excellent, satisfying read on many levels: as literary criticism, as travelogue, as memoir, as history, as a reflection on how a place has shaped this particular writer. Highly recommend.

28. "Another Man's Moccasins" by Craig Johnson

Another Man's Moccasins is the fourth entry in Craig Johnson's series about Wyoming (yeah, I'm picking up on a theme here, too) sheriff Walt Longmire, and the second I've read. I do not intend for it to be the last. Johnson has an easy, spare style that suits the open country he writes about. His sense of landscape, awareness of history, and incorporation of Native American traditions remind me of the late Tony Hillerman, a longtime favorite of mine.

When a young Vietnamese girl is found dead in remote Absaroka County, Wyoming, Longmire finds himself revisiting an old murder from his Vietnam War days and doing some soul-searching about his attitudes toward people of other races. A ghost town, rattlesnakes, and human trafficking all come into play as the present-day investigation unfolds.

The book does have its flaws. I'm not a fan of flashbacks as a literary device; I don't think they're usually the most effective way of communicating backstory. Johnson's are short and to the point but confusing at times, with one character's motive for a certain pivotal action remaining murky. And while Johnson highlights the horrific aspects of human trafficking and the international sex trade, the resolution feels too pat and easy.

All that said, Another Man's Moccasins is a fast-paced, enjoyable read, and I'm eager to fill in the gaps in my perusal of the series. And having just driven through the great state of Wyoming, I'd definitely recommend the vicarious route if you have a hankering to visit.

26. "The Daily Coyote" by Shreve Stockton

I first heard of Shreve Stockton and her pet coyote, Charlie, through her blog The Daily Coyote several years ago. I enjoyed seeing the photos, reading about Charlie's puppyhood and growth, and vicariously experiencing life in a one-room cabin in Wyoming. But eventually I stopped visiting the blog because I had a bad feeling that one day I'd open my browser window and read about Charlie being shot by a rancher or hit by a car. Yes, I'm morbid. Yes, I'm a pessimist. And yes, I have learned to shelter myself from the kinds of tragedies that I know will ravage me emotionally.

At any rate, I was proven wrong about Charlie, fortunately. He's leading what appears to be a blissful coyote existence with Stockton, her cat Eli, a hound friend, and various livestock in rural, windswept Wyoming. Stockton's still posting daily photos, and she's written a book, also titled The Daily Coyote, chronicling her first year with Charlie.

Her significant other, who kills nuisance coyotes for the government, rescued Charlie as a 10-day-old pup after shooting both of his parents, then delivered the orphaned coyote to Stockton's door. Not sure she wanted a commitment to anything more demanding than her free-roaming cat, she nonetheless adopted Charlie and set about learning how to raise him.

The book follows her trials and joys with Charlie: his determination to win Eli's affection, the challenges of keeping a baby coyote safe from hunters and coyote-hating ranchers, a bout with Parvo virus, the process of his neutering via band, aggression issues as he grows to adulthood and his wild nature asserts itself. As Stockton struggles to give Charlie the best life possible, she also grapples with issues in her human relationship. At times, her philosophy is a bit (I hesitate to use this phrase but can't think of a better one) New Age-y; for example, when Charlie is ill with Parvo, she tells him she understands if he decides he doesn't want to stay in a life without freedom, and it's his choice whether to live or die. But she seems very genuine in her beliefs, and there's no question that she loves Charlie and is extremely committed to giving him the best life he can have. Part of her struggle is learning to do that without sacrificing too much of her own well-being.

Some of the challenges she confronts with Charlie remind me of situations I've faced with Bishop--not the wild-animal aspects, obviously, but the amusements and frustrations of life with a high-spirited canine, especially to someone who isn't a natural "alpha."

I also have to confess that I'm darned jealous of Shreve Stockton, and not just because she has a pet coyote. She's found community, roots, love, purpose, belonging, and fulfillment in a tiny cow town in Wyoming. She's several years younger than I am and has published two books. I'm still fighting to find my niche, to discover both an internal and an external center, stability, long-term community. I often despair of whether these things exist. But reading about someone who drove through a state on a Vespa and decided, a month later, to move back, not knowing anyone, not having a job, having nothing but a profound sense that this is where she belonged--this inspires me and gives me hope, mixed with my envy.