Lonesome Dove

“There was nothing important to do in Lonesome Dove, but that didn’t mean there was enough time to keep up with the little things that needed doing.”

Call spends most of his life working to distract himself from unpleasant truths. He is uncomfortable when he does not have an obvious purpose to work towards. This is part of the reason why the drive to Montana intrigues him; he wants to see Montana and have an adventure, but he knows the drive will give him a purpose for many months.

“His purpose was to get done what needed to be done, and what needed to be done was simple, if not easy.”

From his days as a Ranger, Call is most content when the day is filled with tasks and chores. Whenever he knows what must be done, his world grows comfortingly small. Call knows that his life has been a disappointment and that he has disappointed others as well. Simplicity gives him a way to prove that he is useful. This need for simplicity is what often makes him feel alienated from other men and their constant talk of gambling and women, which are always complicating factors, in his view.

“If I had a mind to rent pigs, I'd be mighty upset. A man that likes to rent pigs won't be stopped”.

Wilbarger banters with Gus on the plain. His ironic description of a man who rents pigs as a man who won’t be stopped applies to Gus, even though it is Gus who whimsically points out that they do not rent pigs. For all his aversion to work and seriousness, when it is time to fight, Gus has always proven unstoppable. He made the sign for people like Wilbarger, who would find it an amusing conversation starter. 

“The first difference Newt noticed about being grown up was that time didn't pass as slow.”

The trip north forces Newt into adulthood. His days are even more highly regimented than in Lonesome Dove, but now his mistakes can have drastic consequences. Sean’s death exposes him to another element of adulthood. Soon, when his life becomes nothing but worry, work, and doubt, time speeds up under the weight of it all.

“He had known several men who blew their heads off, and he had pondered it much. It seemed to him it was probably because they could not take enough happiness just from the sky and the moon to carry them over the low feelings that came to all men.”

Deets usually presents himself as cheerful, which is evident to others, as Call reaffirms when he creates Deets’s tombstone. He is a simple man who enjoys simple pleasures, similar to Gus, although without his gleeful licentiousness. Deets enjoys nature, and he is sensitive to omens. He believes that suicide is the province of people who cannot appreciate the wonders of the natural world, which always provides beauty.

“Virtually all his life he had been in the position of leading groups of men, yet the truth was he had never liked groups. Men he admired for their abilities in action almost always brought themselves down in his estimation if he had to sit around and listen to them talk—or watch them drink or play cards or run off after women. Listening to men talk usually made him feel more alone than if he were a mile away by himself under a tree. He had never really been able to take part in the talk. The endless talk of cards and women made him feel more set apart—and even a little vain. If that was the best they could think of, then they were lucky they had him to lead them. It seemed immodest, but it was a thought that often came to him.”

Call is neither arrogant nor modest. He knows his faults, but he is always honest with himself. He understands that he is built to lead less competent men and that he inspires confidence in them. It makes him feel lonely as if he realizes that he cannot indulge in a basic comfort that most men need. He also believes that the more time he spends with the men, the lower his opinion of them may become. One of the reasons he talks so little is that it prevents him from growing too familiar with the men and losing his air of leadership.

“Occasionally the very youngness of the young moved him to charity—they had no sense of the swiftness of life, nor of its limits. The years would pass like weeks, and loves would pass too, or else grow sour.”

Gus teases everyone and enjoys tormenting Dish about his futile love for Lorena. However, he is never unkind out of malice. He knows that Dish will have other chances to love but indulges him rather than let Dish grow bitter about love. Gus is an unapologetic romantic, although he reserves his deepest feelings only for Clara. Dish’s plight reminds him of his struggle to win Clara, and he takes pity on him—but only after some mild harassment.

“He had seen highly competent men stand as if paralyzed in a crisis, though once someone took command and told them what to do they might perform splendidly.”

One of the reasons Call takes leadership so seriously is that he has seen the consequences of bad leadership, particularly in the earlier books of McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove series. He knows that a good leader is often what allows competent people to demonstrate their competency. In the absence of good leadership, even capable men can perform below their capabilities.

“It ain’t dying I’m talking about, it’s living. I doubt it matters where you die, but it matters where you live.”

Gus argues with Call about the best way to live a fulfilling life. He says that Lorena was never going to enjoy living in Lonesome Dove because it was not a place where she could enjoy herself and thrive. He believes that is the missing part of Call’s happiness—an inability to thrive while pursuing his passions. Gus believes that he does more living than Call, who endures his life in a state more like mere existence.

“Better by far never to have known the pleasure than to have the pain that followed.”

Call ruminates on his time with Maggie. Unlike Gus, who believes that pleasure is one of the highest pursuits, given that it is an antidote for boredom, Call wishes he had never known the comforts of Maggie’s bed. The regret he experienced as a result has never measured up to the pleasure he felt while they were together.

“He wondered if all men felt such disappointment when thinking of themselves. He didn’t know.”

Despite all of his accomplishments, and despite knowing he has the respect of his men, Call has never been satisfied with himself. He rarely even knows the source of his low self-image, except for his inability to claim Newt as his son. As the journey proceeds, Call becomes harder on himself, and his disappointment grows bitterer. The men followed him on the cattle drive because they were loyal and trusted his judgment. By the end of the story, Call no longer trusts himself.

“Incompetents invariably made trouble for people other than themselves.”

Call has no tolerance for incompetency, particularly in leaders. Incompetent leaders tend to give questionable orders. On the plains, this can lead to death and disaster. This is one of the few traits he shares with Clara: the belief that incompetence affects the people who are near it. This obsession with competency is also a common trope of the Western genre, which romanticizes the practical skills necessary to cowboy life.

“Don't be trying to give back pain for pain...You can't get even measures in business like this.”

Gus tries to prevent July from going after Blue Duck in the aftermath of the slaughter. He has seen enough fighting to know that revenge is never a true balancing of the scales. If July insists on pursuing Blue Duck, he will most likely be killed. But even if he succeeded, his vengeance would not make him feel any better about his losses or regrets.

“I never met a soul in this world as normal as me.”

Gus tells Wilbarger that there is nothing unusual about him. However, he is the only one who would say this, as most of the men, including Wilbarger, have never met anyone like Gus. Gus says it simply because it is provocative and will likely produce a response from Wilbarger that will allow them to keep bantering as kindred spirits.

“I'm glad I've been wrong enough to keep in practice. . . You can't avoid it, you've got to learn to handle it. If you only come face to face with your own mistakes once or twice in your life it's bound to be extra painful. I face mine every day—that way they ain't usually much worse than a dry shave.”

For all of his bravado and jesting, Gus is always aware that he is fallible. Other than his failure to win Clara, he does not torment himself for his mistakes the way that Call does. He is largely inoculated against his own mistakes because he knows he has made many, and that he will make many more. What sets him apart from many people is that he does not apologize for his mistakes, and refuses to let them haunt him.

“Young things mainly belong to themselves. How they grow up depends on who gets attached to them.”

Clara talks about Martin with July. She believes that children follow the example of those who love them the most. Elmira was never going to help Martin become the best version of himself; she didn’t care enough to raise him properly. Clara, on the other hand, is already attached to the boy and knows that she can raise him to be a good, strong person if July allows her to keep him.

“‘It doesn’t do to sacrifice for people unless they want you to,’ Clara said. ‘It’s just a waste.’”

Clara tells her daughter that trying to help people can be futile. She spent most of her life wanting Gus to be something other than what he was, and no amount of pleading or sacrifice could have changed it. Her brief experience with July—who chased Elmira for so long, for no reason—vindicates her perspective. Clara does not beg people to let her help them, and she does not waste her time sacrificing for people who will not make use of her help.

“Call saw that everyone was looking at him, the hands and cowboys and townspeople alike. The anger had drained out of him, leaving him feeling tired. He didn't remember the fight, particularly, but people were looking at him as if they were stunned. He felt he should make some explanation, though it seemed to him a simple situation. ‘I hate a man that talks rude,’ he said. ‘I won't tolerate it.’”

Call is renowned for both his temper and his sense of justice. When someone wrongs him—or in this case, when the soldier hits Newt—Call is willing to kill. His deadpan response, that he beat the soldier for talking rudely, is one of the novel’s funniest moments and adds to Call’s characterization.

“I think it’s a sickness to grieve too much for those who never cared a fig for you.”

Clara tells her girls that she is out of patience with July’s irrational commitment to Elmira. Now that Elmira is dead, Clara thinks she is unworthy of July’s grief, but that July’s grief is also a symptom of something wrong with him. People do not grieve for strangers, and Clara knows that Elmira was never more than a stranger to July.

“Me and Call have always liked to get where we started for, even if it don't make a damn bit of sense.”

Gus tells Clara that he and Call will see their way to Montana, even if it is irrational. The fact that they started together, headed in that direction, is enough of a commitment for him. This is part of Clara’s frustration with Gus, and the source of her disdain for Call. Gus talks about the two of them as if they are one organism, even though they are fiercely independent in other areas of their lives.

“It struck her that endings were never as you would expect them to be.”

Clara reflects on Bob’s death. Her love of stories and magazines has shown her the foolishness of hoping for tidy endings to complicated situations. Martin’s arrival in her life is not another tragic ending, but a beginning that fills her with hope for the future. She never could have expected to raise another son, but the uncertainty of life and its constant surprises are what help Clara continue.

“We might all get killed this afternoon, for all I know. That's the wild for you - it's got its dangers, which is part of the beauty.”

Gus summarizes one of the attractions of the West for Newt. For Gus, the lack of certainty or safety is what gives life much of its exhilaration. He acknowledges that it is frightening, but also that it is impossible to appreciate the comforts of safety without the experience of danger.

“The moment indifference took over, life began to subside. Few men rose out of it: most lost all impulse toward activity and ended by offering death at least a halfhearted welcome.”

As Gus limps across the plains after the attack, he resolves to live. He has to give his life his utmost attention and keep moving, treating it as his priority. His experience in the Rangers has shown him what it looks like when men lose the will to live. It always starts with a lack of movement, which is analogous to the pressure Call felt while confined in Lonesome Dove.