Little Big Man

<b>“The cavalry pounded in among the lodges now, the band still playing out in the open valley where they rested. That music was driving me batty. I belly-flopped behind a tree. I had not yet fired my piece, but not because of delicacy. No, I would have dropped them troopers without mercy had I the wherewithal to do it: they was ravaging my home, had killed two of my women, and because of them my dearest wife and newborn boy lay in uttermost jeopardy. At such a time you see no like betwixt yourself and enemy, be he your brother by blood or usage. But my gun was empty. Around the lodge I kept it unloaded in case them children got to tinkering. The ammunition rested in that pouch under Digging Bear’s body, some fifty yards of galloping cavalry from where I lay…”</b><br />- Thomas Berger, <i>Little Big Man</i> <br /><br />Once upon a time, many, <i>many</i> years ago, people crossed over a land bridge from Asia and populated the North American continent. For years beyond counting, they lived on this continent, spreading out over its vastness, forming into communities, fighting wars, marking out territories, and generally living their lives. <br /><br />At some point after 1492, they had to contend with new visitors arriving in boats, with guns and buckled hats. <br /><br />The resulting clash has been defined by many terms, but it was first and foremost a tragedy of clashing cultures, with one culture – the visitors – being quite insistent on domination. <br /><br />Wars followed, and broken treaties, and shifting alliances, and a steady retreat by the indigenous peoples toward the west, away from the newcomers with the guns and the buckled hats and the insatiable need for more land. In the warfare that attended this displacement, the indigenous peoples – inaptly described as “Indians,” a name that has stuck – often took captives from the white interlopers. While an extension of their traditional modes of warfare – partially to offset high infant mortality and low birthrates – this tactic was unique to the European invaders, and made a commensurately powerful impact on their psyches. <br /><br />Often, the captives taken by Indians would disappear forever, adopted into the tribe that took them. Every so often, however, a person taken would be returned, either through escape or ransom, and from this experience which – leaving everything else aside – would have been traumatic, sprang a new kind of book: the Captivity Narrative. <br /><br />Smarter people than I have noted that the Captivity Narrative is America’s first indigenous literary genre. For what it’s worth – not much, I allow – I happen to agree. There’s nothing quite like it, anywhere else. Stories about white men, women, and children taken by the Indians have been told on these shores since long before the United States came into existence. Increase and Cotton Mather often took time off from spreading their particular form of hyper-violent, sexually repressed Puritanism to package these kinds of tales into religious tracts. <br /><br />Over time, Captivity Narratives have taken many different forms. Sometimes they have a theological message. Other times they’ve been used for propaganda. There are coming-of-age stories (think <i>The Son</i>), vengeance stories (think Hannah Duston or <i>The Searchers</i>), and the occasional white man who finds his true self among the Indians stories (<i>Dances With Wolves</i>). <br /><br />Thomas Berger’s take on the Captivity Narrative, <i>Little Big Man</i>, certainly beats all. It refuses to be any one thing, which can be both maddening and appealing, all at once. <br /><br />The thing about Captivity Narratives is that despite being sold as a raw experience, they were often premeditatively formed into a lesson (especially in the hands of the Mathers). They arrived in print with a clean storytelling arc, and explored themes that haunted the settlers who arrived uninvited on these shores. When you read the reminisces of – for instance – Hannah Duston, who was captured by the Abenaki, saw her small child killed before her eyes, and later picked up a tomahawk for payback, you see not only a grim tale of survival, but an obvious pretense for the actions of Europeans. <br /> <br />Berger eschews this completely. To be sure, <i>Little Big Man</i> is a fictional take on the Captivity Narrative. Its conceit is that it is the first-person reminisces of 111 year-old Jack Crabb, who at a young age, became a ward of the Cheyenne. But Berger has no interest in a simple three-act story. This is a shaggy dog, with Jack Crabb a 19th century Forrest Gump who somehow finds himself witnessing the most famous events of the American West: the Battle of the Solomon Fork; the Washita Massacre; and the Battle of the Little Big Horn. Along the way, he scouts for George Custer, irritates Wyatt Earp, and cheats Wild Bill Hickok at cards. <br /><br />It is well worth your time. <br /><br />In the novel’s extremely funny Forward, written by the pompous, hopelessly naïve “Man of Letters” Ralph Fielding Snell, Crabb is found in a nursing home and encouraged to relate his story. He does so in an inimitable voice that segues seamlessly between tragedy and farce, comedy and drama. <br /><br />Jack is ten years-old when he joins the Cheyenne. It is a case of mistaken captivity, which I will not attempt to explain other than to note that it’s one of the cruder farcical aspects of <i>Little Big Man</i>. Over the course of the novel, which begins in the 1850s and ends in 1876, with Custer’s defeat, Jack will leave and return to the Cheyenne several times, though he was “a white man and never forgot it.” <br /><br />Berger’s treatment of the Cheyenne – through the voice of Crabb – is fascinating. It is a far cry from the monolithic, primitive portrayal of Indians that dominated popular culture before the revisionist period of Vietnam-era America. But at the same time, the Cheyenne are not simply idealized as freedom fighters or proto-environmentalists. Rather, they are treated as a collection of individuals with their own traditions and mores and agency. They are not the bad guys, but Berger trusts you to figure this out on your own, without being condescending. <br /><br />Berger’s trust in the reader is important, because Crabb’s voice is stripped of piety and political correctness. He is blunt in his criticisms and critiques, of which he has many. In other words, Berger has managed to imbue Crabb with an authentic voice. Crabb sounds like a progressive, open-minded man of the 19th century. This is to say, he is progressive, but relative to his peers (which means that would not fit into our own century). <br /><br />Long before Philipp Meyer perfected this particular alchemy in <i>The Son</i>, Berger was able to deliver a marvelous critique on America’s westward expansion that is utterly readable, entertaining, and moving. My favorite sections involved Jack and his adopted father, Old Lodge Skins, who knows how to deliver a speech: <br /><br /><blockquote>[I]t is finished now, because what more can you do to an enemy but beat him? Were we fighting red man against red man – the way we used to, because that it a man’s profession, and besides it is enjoyable – it would now be the turn of the other side to whip <i>us</i>. We would fight as hard as ever, and perhaps win again, but they would definitely start with an advantage, because that is the <i>right</i> way. There is no permanent winning or losing when things move, as they should, in a circle. For is not life continuous? And though I shall die, shall I not also continue to live in everything that <i>is</i>?<br /><br />The buffalo eats grass, I eat him, and when I die, the earth eats me and sprouts more grass. Therefore nothing is ever lost, and each thing is everything forever, though all things move.</blockquote><br /><br />Because <i>Little Big Man</i> is anecdotal, it depends on its big set pieces. Its success is its ability to recreate historical events with the Jack Crabb twist. The massacre of Black Kettle’s Cheyenne at the Washita, for instance, is masterful. It begins with Jack suddenly finding himself in a polygamous marriage – a sequence that is subtly played for the obvious laughs. Following that interlude, Jack plunges us into the horror and chaos of a dawn cavalry charge. The two sequences are jarring in exactly the way that life is jarring, without clear demarcation between humor and horror. <br /><br />Any mention of this novel (published in 1964) must contend with the 1970 film version directed by Arthur Penn and starring Dustin Hoffman. It is a great movie, but it is far broader in its characterizations, especially that of Custer who – in the film – delivers a scenery-masticating monologue even as the Lakota and Cheyenne close in for the kill at the Little Big Horn. <br /><br />The novel is deeper, richer, and far more rounded. Custer is still a fool verging on being a madman, but Crabb comes to have an odd sort of respect for him. Other historical figures are also given an illuminating light. Berger’s Hickok, for example, is mesmerizing. An accomplished killer who is trapped inside his own reputation, always with his back to a wall, nervous and afraid, warily on the lookout for the next man who’s going to try to kill him. When I ponder the heights that historical fiction can reach, I think of Berger’s Hickock, which takes the facts of this legendary man’s life, and weaves them into a fictional interpretation that resonates like truth. <br /><br />By all accounts, <i>Little Big Man</i> made a mild splash when it first debuted. Since then, undoubtedly helped by the movie, it has grown in esteem. The American West is the going-place for understanding America. The promise of the western frontier is at the root of all our national myths: independence, freedom, upward mobility. It is also at the heart of our national reality, in which noble ideals have been planted like flowers over the graves of the vanquished. It is no surprise that so many classic works of literature spring from this fertile ground. <i>Little Big Man</i> is certainly a classic. When Berger died this past summer, this was his monument, the first line in his obituary. <br /><br />Nevertheless, it is a hard book to pin down, but in a good way. <br /><br />On the one hand, it is obviously an attempt at revisionism, giving the Indians back their voice; putting a human (and often grubby) face on gold-plated legends; and subverting many hoary tropes of the American West, among them, the Captivity Narrative itself.<br /><br />At the same time, because of the uniqueness – and wit – of Jack Crabb’s perspective, <i>Little Big Man</i> never draws attention to its revisionism. There is some medicine here, but you get to take it with a spoonful of sugar (or a shot of rotgut whiskey). It isn’t preachy in the way that other revisionist works can get preachy. That, of course, makes it a wonderful vessel to deliver important ideas. <br /><br /><i>Little Big Man</i>’s greatness comes from its ability to recalibrate American history but still remain utterly American. Big and sweeping and full of impossible characters. A Twain-like epic of lies, all told with a grin.

Jack Crabbs life leaves a lot to be desired, but I'll be dammed if it doesn't sound like a childhood dream of mine. Running off and living with Indians, riding horses, hunting buffalo, battling the Crow, Pawnee, and Comanche. Living in the old west on the fringes of society, playing cards in saloons, gun fights with wild Bill, following the gold rush, and riding with the calvary into battle against the whole Indian nation. sure, you occasionally get shot; sure, you never have enough money or food; sure, your wife and family occasionally get kidnapped by Indians (but you can always find another one if you're the legendary Little Big Man). Jack lived some of the most famous parts of the wild west, and we got to tag along with him and experience it all too. <br /><br />Great writing, great characters, and a great storyline. Overall, it was a fast and fun read, and I highly enjoyed it.

A great, sweeping novel full of major events and impossible characters. Perfect for anyone looking for a few hours escape from these troubled modern times.

<i>"Jack Crabb was either the most neglected hero in the history of this country or a liar of insane proportions. In either case, may the Everywhere Spirit have mercy on his soul, and yours, and mine."</i><br>- Thomas Berger, Little Big Man<br><br><i>"The truth seems hateful to most everybody."</i><br>- Thomas Berger, Little Big Man<br><br><img src="https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1524294209i/25410574._SX540_.jpg" width="400" height="327" alt="description" class="gr-hostedUserImg" loading="lazy"> <br><br>I thought I was clever when I told my wife Jack Crabb, aka Little Big Man, was the Zelig of the American West. There is nothing new under the sun I guess. Larry McMurtry said it. Others said it before him. The universe is full of clever little readers. <br><br>I grew up reading American Indian captivity narratives. I loved Harold Keith's <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/7907324.Komantcia" title="Komantcia by Harold Keith" rel="noopener">Komantcia</a> and as soon as I was an adult with money, found and bought every copy I could find. I also adored Speare's <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/13164526.The_Sign_of_the_Beaver" title="The Sign of the Beaver by Elizabeth George Speare" rel="noopener">The Sign of the Beaver</a>. I moved on reading Thomasa's <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/442759.Soun_Tetoken_Nez_Perce_Boy_Tames_a_Stallion__Amazing_Indian_Children_" title="Soun Tetoken Nez Perce Boy Tames a Stallion (Amazing Indian Children) by Kenneth Thomasma" rel="noopener">Soun Tetoken</a> and <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/609249.Naya_Nuki_Shoshone_Girl_Who_Ran" title="Naya Nuki Shoshone Girl Who Ran by Kenneth Thomasma" rel="noopener">Naya Nuki</a>. So, I'm not sure why as an adult it took me so long to read Berger's masterpiece Little Big Man. It was funny, irreverant, and spanned the West; incorporating Mormons, Wild Bill Hickok, Wyatt Earp, the Cheyenne and lastly Custer and Little Big Horn. <br><br>This book is full of racial chauvinism, but the story is being told by a 111 year-old unreliable narrator, in 1952, relating an unbelieveable story that weaves him into most of the BIG storys of the West between the Civil War and Little Big Horn. Jack In summary, doesn't give a sick pig's piss what you think. Besides, he is cynical about just about every group, tribe, religion, etc. He just habitually hangs with the Cheyenne.<br><br>Anyway, not that it matters, but greater writers than me loved this book: see Vine DeLoria, Jr., Sherman Alexie, Larry McMurtry, John Cheever, Ralph Ellison. Anyway, it is low brow, beautiful, sad, and asks a lot of big questions and often leaves the big ones unanswered. It belongs on the shelf next to other "great American novels".

This is one of the best books I have ever read. The movie adaptation was awesome as well.

Another case where the movie led me to the book. I very much enjoyed the book. More than the movie.

<b>So I, Jack Crabb, was a Cheyenne warrior. Had made my kill with bow and arrow. Been scalped and healed with hocus-pocus. Had an ancient savage who couldn't talk English for my Pa, and a fat brown woman for my Ma, and for a brother a fellow whose face I hardly ever saw for clay or paint. Lived in a skin tent and ate puppy dog. God, it was strange!</b><br><br>Most of us are familiar with Jack's tale from the 1970 film.<br><br><img src="https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1431442681i/14837719._SY540_.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="description" class="gr-hostedUserImg" loading="lazy"> <br><br>Incidentally, the bit about the "liar of insane proportion" is the next to last line in the book.<br><br>There is so much to love here, both in the film and in the book. Anyone searching for life's meaning or looking for ways to better treat others need look no further than the wisdom of Old Lodge Skins:<br><br><b>"The Human Beings believe that everything is alive: not only men and animals but also water and earth and stones and also the dead and things from them like this hair. The person from whom this hair came is bald on the Other Side, because I now own this scalp. This is the <i>way things are</i>.<br><br>"But white men believe that everything is dead: stones, earth, animals, and people, even their own people. And if, in spite of that, things persist in trying to live, white men will rub them out.<br><br>"That," he concludes, "is the difference between white men and Human Beings."</b><br><br><br>Berger does tend to ramble and I was a bit bored by the parts of the story where Crabb is not with the Cheyenne. Some readers may be disturbed by Crabb's assertion that women find being raped to be "interesting."<br><br>This may be one of the rare cases where I enjoyed the film more than the book.<br><br>So, I've told you the next to last line in the book, but what's the last line? It's lovely, and not at all spoilery: <br><br> <b>. . . may the Everywhere Spirit have mercy on his soul, and yours, and mine.</b>

I saw the movie that was based on this book in my thesis year of studying architecture in college. I didn't recall that until I started reading this book and had to Google the movie to find the release date, December 23, 1970. I also couldn't believe the movie was 50 years old or that this year was the 50th anniversary of my graduating college. I immediately sent out a reminder to all those guys with whom I shared many sleepless days and nights bent over drawing boards in an old repurposed bra and girdle factory that housed our college of architecture and art at UIC. I do recall that seeing that movie was a rare break from my studies and my research as my thesis resurrected a thesis option, architectural humanities, that hadn't be used in 20 years. I was tired of drawing boards and thought writing might be a change of pace so I spent my 5th year in the library and then at home typing. That movie came out during Christmas break and was something of a treat but I didn't become aware of the book until recently when I ran across some GR reviews of the book that piqued my interest. I ordered a copy and now after finishing it I am glad I didn't read this book earlier.<br /><br />In the last few years I have managed to read several incredibly good books on the westward expansion of this country and the ensuing conflict that expansion caused with Native Americans. This reading allowed me to view this book in a way that wouldn't have been possible with an earlier reading. The book has a much greater impact if the reader is familiar with the history of our Indian Wars as this book is almost a mythological synopsis of the plight of the Plains Indians and the encroaching whites. There is almost no event or person of significance in that history that the protagonist of this tale was not present for or knew and had dealings with. I will also say, as much as my memory of the movie allows, that that movie was rarity in its loyalty to the book and its story. Not knowing the history involved in this story could have the reader of this fiction believing that the stories of Jack Crabb, the protagonist, are just that, fiction. They are not.<br /><br />Since the book and the movie are now 50+ years old it is possible that many may be unfamiliar with the story of this book. It is about a man, Jack Crabb, claiming to be a 111 year man and lone survivor of the Battle of Little Big Horn. A curious writer finds Crabb and induces him to tell his story. Crabb agrees and recounts his life from about the age of 10 when his family's small wagon train to the West encounters a band of Cheyenne Indians. Because of an excess of alcohol violence results and Jack ends up being adopted and raised by the Cheyenne chief. Again thanks to my prior reading I was able to appreciate the accuracy of the author in describing life in an Indian village and the social and governing structure of Indian tribes. Each chapter is an episode in Jack's back and forth life between living as an Indian and returning to life in white society as well as the people he meets along the way and the events he either witnesses or lives through. It would be an understatement to say that Jack had an extraordinary life and that is probably part of the author's intent, an intent I will need time to think about. The author makes a point through the fictional writer of saying that there is no way to determine how much, if any, of Jack's story is true and it is for the reader to decide. What I got from this read is that the more you know about our Western history the more this book will give you to think about. I will be doing that for awhile but in the meantime I strongly recommend this book. Enjoy.

Better than the movie, maybe, but not by much. <br /><br />Whatever you think about the conflict between the Plains Indians and the white man, it's hard to identify with a "hero" who is really neither red nor white in his loyalty, who consistently takes the low road and whose outlook on life is completely mean-spirited and sleazy. <br /><br />Now I'm no stranger to anti-heroes. I cheered for Alex in A CLOCKWORK ORANGE as a naive young thing and I thrilled to the murderous violence of Lamar Pye in Stephen Hunter's DIRTY WHITE BOYS, not to mention the exploits of Blue Duck (a much, much tougher version of a man caught between the red and white worlds) in Larry McMurtry's LONESOME DOVE. <br /><br />The thing is, an anti-hero has to be tough. He has to be capable. He has to be ruthless. He can't just be a small-time chiseler, a weak-willed opportunist who drifts from one petty scam to another. Jack Crabbe is just . . . a crab. A bottom feeder scuttling along, feeding on death. It's not funny. It's not cute. <br /><br />It's just . . . really dreary after a while.

The movie with Dustin Hoffman was very well done &amp; follows the book fairly well, but the book captures the character even better. He's not a perfect man by any stretch of the imagination. He lives a long time &amp; through some very interesting history. Living with the Indians &amp; then scouting for Custer at the Little Big Horn, a fight against the same indians he lived with. There's a gritty, real feel to the entire story.