I’ve got some bad news for you.
Even when McMurtry was writing novels set in Los Angeles or Las Vegas or Washington, D.C., Texans were always a part of the narrative. He wrote of a former rodeo cowboy who became a womanizing antiques dealer (Cadillac Jack) and an erstwhile University of Texas football player who later became a Hollywood striver (Somebody’s Darling). Just before he fell ill, he was working on two more Texas-based stories—one a western based on the life of the cattleman Charles Goodnight, and the other a modern-day novel of manners about a Fort Worth socialite. (He never published them.) For all of the acerbic criticism of mundane Texas life and literature that marked his essays, the man loved Texans, big and small.
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