About Versions of Versions

Post 382:

            This summer I’ve been working on a western novel. There’s a part where I frame a part of the story by using a dime novel that a guy has collected from his youth. Stories of gunfights and bloodthirsty outlaws and savages, bullets and arrows and the raw experience of tamping down the chaos.

            In the story, the character uses the dime novel as a sort of history, then he has to filter out all the crap that’s in it to arrive at something resembling the truth.

            The dime novel or paperback version of the truth has always fascinated me. A lot of these are based on actual people. They lived. Did things. Went to the bathroom. And then they were made into these characters, bigger than life, weirder, perhaps worse than they really were.

            And better. And smaller.

            It’s just versions. Versions fascinate me. One can say that you’re only getting a version of the truth, no matter what. This… is close to accurate. But let’s not get too philosophical. Infinite regression is a nasty bit of business, and it ends in tears.

            I just like to think of myself in a saloon, reading about my exploits. I lean over to some lovely lady and tell her about the time I robbed the Starlight Stage with no bullets and a lame horse. She asks me if it’s true. I say heck yeah, it’s right here in this novel.

            Tall tales and such are not American by definition, but I think they are sort of an American version of the Fairy Tale or Folk Tale. Those are as old as time itself.

            It’s up to you to decide what version of history to accept. Some will be closer than others to the real deal.

            What? I don’t have the answer. Just a version of a version of a version… I got to get out of here.

            Cheers buckaroos. See you after.