Book Review: The Haunted Mesa by Louis L’Amour
There’s something enchanting about the prospect of diving into one of Louis L’Amour’s novels. Known for his rugged tales of adventure and exploration, I was curious to see how he would tackle the mystical themes of The Haunted Mesa. The promise of “alien Indians” and a window into alternate worlds piqued my curiosity, but unfortunately, that intrigue devolved into a series of awkward encounters and bewildering narrative choices that left me feeling lost rather than enchanted.
The story follows Mike Raglan as he attempts to rescue his friend, Erik, who’s allegedly trapped in an alternate dimension. Sounds exciting, right? Yet, the first 300 pages feel more like an endless loop of Mike navel-gazing and questioning his surroundings rather than any substantive plot development. I often found myself wondering, “Where is the narrative going?” The prose is rife with circular musings: “Where was Erik? Why had he not kept their appointment?” These questions recur ad nauseam to the point where I found myself wishing Mike would just get to the action.
While L’Amour’s ambition to weave a myth-like tale rooted in Anasazi folklore is commendable, the execution falters. Much of the dialogue feels stilted, resembling video game checkpoints where characters appear just to advance the plot. A police officer casually finding Mike in the desert to continue questioning him about an arson incident? It stretches credibility and serves to bog the pacing down even further. Characters seem to exist solely to deliver exposition, making the conversations feel more like scripted monologues rather than organic interactions.
Then there are the otherworldly beings, depicted with little nuance. They communicate in wooden pidgin English, which is off-putting and serves to reinforce clichéd stereotypes of “noble savages.” The character dynamics feel contrived, and any potential character development falls flat. Mike’s sudden affection for Kawasi seems rushed and unearned, as if a romantic subplot was mandated by authorial decree rather than genuine connection.
L’Amour’s repetitive narrative style hinders the reader’s ability to connect deeply with the story. Take this gem: “At a glance, he realized the ruins were ancient, older than anything he had ever seen.” By repeating observations, L’Amour risks losing reader engagement instead of enhancing atmosphere. I yearned for richness in storytelling rather than redundancy.
Despite my frustrations, there are moments that are genuinely intriguing. The concept of exploring alternate worlds and cultural dimensions is compelling, and L’Amour hints at evocative ideas throughout the text. Yet, without a cohesive plot, provocative themes become lost in a sea of circular questioning and directionless dialogue.
In conclusion, The Haunted Mesa may appeal to die-hard L’Amour fans who enjoy his signature narrative style. However, for readers seeking a compelling plot with dynamic characters, this book might feel like an uphill struggle. My experience was a lesson in patience; I often found myself wishing for a more tightly woven narrative. If you appreciate slower-paced stories rich with introspection but can overlook disjointed storytelling, you may find value here. For others, I would recommend searching for other adventures where the journey feels as purposeful as the destination.
