Book Reviews: The Hardest Ride and Marta’s Ride by Gordon L. Rottman

The Hardest RideThe Texas-Mexico border, the winter of 1886—The Great Die Up. A raw rift separates Mexicans and Anglos. A loner cowpoke and a mute Mexican girl fight man and nature to reunite.

Out of work cowpoke Bud Eugen comes across Marta, a mute sixteen-year old Mexican girl whose family has been killed by Indians. Bud reluctantly takes her along, even though he’s never had to accommodate another person in his simple life. He’s unable to find anyone willing to take her. In spite of his prejudices, Bud grows to like the spunky girl (and her excellent cooking).

Eventually, they both find work on a border ranch. Here, the relationship between the girl and the young cowboy hesitantly grows. But banditos raid the ranch, kidnapping the rancher’s daughters and Marta. Bud, with twelve other men, pursue the banditos into the most desolate reaches of Mexico. Ambushes and battles with banditos, Rurales, and traitors are constant, and the brutal weather is as much a threat as the man-made perils. Life and death choices are made at every turn as one side gains the advantage, then the other.

The rancher’s daughters are rescued, and the exhausted party turns back. But Bud presses on alone, against insurmountable odds – determined to fulfill an unspoken promise to Marta. (Taken from Goodreads).

 

36483545Author Gordon L. Rottman has finally given fans of The Hardest Ride and Ride Harder their beloved heroine Marta’s own tale, and in a way, her own voice.

The brutal 1886 winter on the Texas-Mexico border is a terrible time for a mute sixteen-year-old Mexican girl and her familia, who roam the trails and towns of the frontier, searching for work and struggling to survive. When her parents and siblings are murdered before her eyes, Marta is faced with a stark reality. Completely alone in the harsh Texas backlands, she realizes her own time in this world will be short, lonely, and possibly end in blood.

Marta has not lived and thrived in her hardscrabble life thus far to give up without a fight. And the arrival of an out of work cowboy from whom she grudgingly accepts help and protection gives her a sliver of hope. Besides she reasons, Güero—Blondie—as she’s named him, would be lost without her care, guidance, and decent meals. Despite the chasm between Mexicans and Anglos in this harsh age, the loner cowpoke and mute Mexican girl tentatively build a fragile trust.

Finding work on a welcoming ranch, the couple bonds, and their future appears brighter. But a raid by vicious bandits takes Marta, another Mexican girl, and the rancher’s two daughters on a journey into hell. Marta tells us a harrowing tale of terror and anguish as the women struggle to stay alive and hang on to their sanity. Her faith in Güero coming to their rescue rises and diminishes day-to-day as their circumstances change. In the end, there is a great deal more to Marta than we ever realized. (Taken from Goodreads).

Let me start by saying that these books are not in the genres I usually pick up, but since I’m a compulsive hoarder of free e-books advertised on Twitter I had the occasion to ”buy” The Hardest Ride for free (thank you, Mr. Rottman). I devoured it! This was another one of those books where my husband would walk in the room and comment that I must be reading another good book, because I was lost in my Kindle every spare moment (there aren’t many) and staying up way too late to read. As soon as I was done I used an Amazon gift card to purchase Marta’s Ride for myself, which speaks volumes about how much I enjoyed the first book.

The story is not an easy one to read — Bud and Marta do not lead easy lives, nor did most people around them, it seems. There’s plenty of violence, and we’re not spared many details. In many ways, Marta’s Ride is the worse of the two as far as violence/difficult reading goes because we hear exactly what Marta and the other girls experience rather than surmising based on the men’s assumptions. Not being familiar with the genre or the history of the US-Mexican border I can’t speak to how realistic a story these books paint in terms of historical accuracy, but they certainly speak authentically to human emotion. It’s that aspect which pulled me in.

In the Hardest Ride we see Bud, abused and unloved as a child, alone and broke as an adult, begin to recognize within himself the capacity to love another person and to be loved in return. It’s unconventional, for sure–a white cowboy and a mute Mexican girl–but the emotions portrayed are raw and real. In Marta’s Ride, we learn Marta’s inner thoughts and feelings, which we can only see in The Hardest Ride through Bud’s interpretation of her facial expressions, gestures, and body language.

It won’t surprise my regular readers to hear that I also found Rottman’s portrayal of Marta’s Catholic faith in both books very intriguing. I couldn’t help but wonder at Marta’s seemingly vast knowledge of the faith, given her nomadic upbringing and lack of education, and at times I wondered how realistic that would have been for someone in her situation. That said, the way that knowledge and faith guide her life are impressive, and I appreciate Rottman’s positive portrayal of the Catholic Church.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of these books from the perspective of critiquing the writing is just how well the books fit together. I read them back-to-back and never actually read the second book of the series, so the details of the first were very fresh in my mind. I am stunned by how well Rottman portrays the exact same events from two vastly different perspectives. I even dare to say he created in Marta’s Ride a flawless retelling of The Hardest Ride — I didn’t notice any inconsistencies in the two, which is quite the feat.

At the end of Marta’s Ride there’s a sneak peak at another book in the series that follows Marta and Bud’s daughter, and I hate to say that it makes me hesitant to read other books in the series. This is not to say they won’t be quality books, because having read these two I am sure they will be; it’s more that I anticipate them changing the image I have of Marta and Bud a bit, and I don’t want that to happen. They are by no means innocent after all they suffer, but I find I don’t want to (or maybe I’m just not ready to) read about them experiencing further hardships and how that impacts them as people. I like Marta and Bud how they are at the end of The Hardest Ride/Marta’s Ride and I sort of just want to enjoy knowing them like that.

I give both books 4 stars, and highly recommend them!

Weekend Coffee Share – Bedrest Edition

Hello friends,

So this is my first time participating in “Weekend Coffee Share,” hosted by Eclectic Alli, but I’ve been reading and enjoying Thomas Fenske‘s weekend shares for a while and started following the tag a few months ago. SO I thought now is a good time to join.

SO – if we were having coffee together this weekend, and I wish we were because it is LONELY in here, I would have to tell you that I am on bedrest with Baby #4. This isn’t my first rodeo (I did this with Baby #2 as well), but this time around I have a job outside the home and THREE kids, not one! Thankfully, I have the most wonderful husband in the world who takes great care of me and the kids! Also, a positive this time – I’m not also dealing with perinatal depression and anxiety this time around. It makes things much easier to handle!

I would assure you that despite being frustrated, I am doing well and so is Baby – as long as I continue to take the super crappy meds they gave me to stop contractions (every 8 hours I get basically knocked out for 2-3 hours) and I sit my bottom right here on my couch, the little guy should stay in there for quite a bit longer. Which he needs to do because I’m only 29 weeks today.

So WHAT am I doing with my time (besides sleeping each time I take a dose of meds)? When I was on bedrest five years ago I learned to knit, read a lot, and made a latch-hook rug. This time I’m betareading, hoping to work on some editing projects, catching up on some book reviews, reading books, and doing some professional development in the way of watching some Great Courses on English and the publishing industry. While also stalking Craigslist for a used Citi Mini Double Stroller or else HOW are we going to make it to the bus stop every day once this baby is born? I missed one for $90 the other day – an amazing price because these things retail for like $450 (eek!).

So, that’s my story! I have some amazing family, friends, and coworkers who have been checking in on me, dropping by food and the mail, and keeping me company. I’m trying to enjoy the quiet before the kids are back and there’s NO quiet – but I do miss the munchkins!

Enjoy your weekend, friends! I’ll be right here on my couch, keeping my little baby safe and secure!

Why “The Hobbit” is not just for kids – Reblog from Aleteia.org

I came across this commentary this morning and I think it’s just wonderful. While I haven’t read The Hobbit since high school, it is one of the books (along with Lord of the Rings) that I hope to introduce to my kids when they’re old enough. The author of this commentary, Tod Worner, captures, I think, the essence of why I read and what I hope my children gain from reading. I particularly love the GK Chesterton quote he includes! Please find the original piece here.

Why ‘The Hobbit’ is not just for kids

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How reading J.R.R. Tolkien’s story to his 10-year-old daughter unexpectedly stirred this father’s soul.

I have a confession to make.

I am just finishing The Hobbit for the first time. And I am almost 45.

Okay, okay. So it’s not scandalous. But to those who consider themselves well-read Catholics, not having read The Hobbit and its three-volume sequel, The Lord of the Rings, is considered perplexing if not irresponsible. After all, they are essential works of the moral imagination.

For years, I have been told how good these books are. In them, tales unfold of an extraordinary quest of unlikely heroes, unimaginable creatures and unexpected twists. Ice-capped mountains and lush valleys, barren hillsides and forbidding forests serve as terrain for a motley crew of unlikely allies who strive and suffer together towards an end much larger than themselves.

And so, earlier this year, my 10-year-old daughter and I decided to embark on reading The Hobbit together nightly as she went to bed.

And it has been extraordinary.

As we walked each night with the diminutive Bilbo Baggins from his cozy home in the Shire to the perilous wide world of Middle Earth, we encountered elves and wizards, trolls and goblins, spiders and orcs. We sensed the constant thrill of the adventure ahead mixed (paradoxically) with the forlorn homesickness for what was left behind. Again and again, we agreed with Bilbo’s skepticism about himself. He is a nimble thief? He is an indispensable member of group of dwarves trekking to reclaim a mountain and its treasure from a hell-spewing dragon? He is a hero? Right. But then, time and again, Bilbo proved he was just a little bit smarter, just a touch braver, just a smidge better than either my daughter or I expected. The little hobbit was growing. And we were growing with him.

But there were no small number of times that I wondered what the devil this hobbit thought he was doing. He had a comfortable home and an easy-going life. His books were well-ordered and his larder was full. His fire was toasty and his room warmly-lit. Why leave it all? Why walk away from the known and predictable for the wild and uncertain? Night after night, just walking with Bilbo into the greater unknown made me pull the comforter a bit tighter and snuggle a bit closer to my daughter.

But, after all, that is what these tales are all about. They remind us of our smallness, but our potential for greatness. They illustrate the peril of living dangerously, but also the risk of not living at all. They re-acquaint us with eternal verities (often considered outmoded) such as duty, loyalty and honor as well as the bright line (forever at risk of being blurred) separating right from wrong and good from evil. They instill in us a devotion to each other and a greater reason for being beyond our own selfish appetites. And they do this all in the form of a parable.

The great southern Catholic novelist Flannery O’Connor once observed,

“I tell a story because a statement would be in adequate.”

Quite right. In a world deaf to platitudes, J.R.R. Tolkien decided to shout with hideous orcs, an incinerating dragon and an intoxicating ring. But the tale isn’t a tale for the sake of telling a tale. Allegories are allegories for a reason. They speak to sins and virtues, temptations succumbed to and temptations resisted, damnation averted and grace received. As G.K. Chesterton once noted,

Fairy tales do not give the child the idea of the evil or the ugly; that is in the child already, because it is in the world already. Fairy tales do not give the child his first idea of bogey. What fairy tales give the child is his first clear idea of the possible defeat of bogey. The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.

Indeed.

We must remember: The dragon can be killed. The ring can be destroyed. You can endure suffering. You can return home.

Chesterton reminds us,

At the back of our brains, so to speak, there was a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence … The object of the artistic and spiritual life was to dig for this submerged sunrise or wonder; so that a man sitting in a chair might suddenly understand that he was actually alive, and be happy. 

As I was lying there reading The Hobbit to my 10-year-old daughter, I smiled and once again understood.

I am alive.

And I am happy.

Thank you, Todd and Aleteia!