SINCE LARRY MCMURTRY ANNOUNCED THAT he was through writing novels fifteen years ago, he has written no fewer than twelve of them. The latest, The Wandering Hill, is due from Simon and Schuster this month. Book two of the Berrybender Narratives (the first volume, Sin Killer, was published a year ago, to mixed reviews), it continues the American adventures of an eccentric English family. Fans of vintage McMurtry can look forward to the reissue this summer of three Houston-based novels: Terms of Endearment, The Evening Star, and one of my personal favorites, Moving On.
According to a recent interview in the Los Angeles Times, McMurtry has already completed the third and fourth volumes of the Berrybender tetralogy. He writes fast. Beginning at seven-thirty in the morning and finishing an hour and a half later, he bangs out ten pages daily on a Hermes 3000 manual typewriter. During the revision stage, he ups the output to twenty pages. Working at this pace, he can complete a book in three months. During the rest of an average workday, McMurtry looks after business at “book town,” his name for the enterprises formally known as Booked Up that he operates in the heart of Archer City—his hometown and the place he was talking about when he wrote in an early essay that he had grown up in a “bookless town, in a bookless part of the state.”
McMurtry’s mission in life, or one of them, is to fill Archer City with books. He has 21,000 of them in his own home, on shelves in nearly every room of the three-story mansion that was once the town’s country club (one room contains only books about rivers). His job at book town is buying and pricing and selling books. Books are his lifeblood. “If I haven’t bought anything in three weeks, I feel very thinned out. Very thinned out,” he told an interviewer. Recently, he wrote me that he currently has a quarter of a million books under his “control.”
At age 66 (he will turn 67 on June 3), McMurtry has been the reigning King of Texas Literature for more than four decades. That is a long time to dominate a literary scene, but McMurtry has done it by dint of brilliance, talent, hard work, and rock-solid discipline. His father, about whom he has written beautifully, was a sunup-to-sundown old-time rancher, and McMurtry has inherited his father’s work ethic in spades. It is one of the many things I admire about him.
Much of mythic Texas is a wholly owned subsidiary of Larry McMurtry’s imagination. Small towns, the epic cattle-drive era, the dying days of cowboy country—these are some of the themes so etched in Texas memory that one cannot think or write about them without invoking McMurtry. He is like a great Lincoln Town Car sweeping down the back roads of our collective consciousness.
The first phase of McMurtry’s career runs from 1961 through 1970, a period during which he published three novels set in or near the fictitious little West Texas town of Thalia (Archer City): Horseman, Pass By; Leaving Cheyenne; and The