Column By Dexter K. Oliver
“You can’t call me lazy on a seven day a week. Make a million for the Texans, twenty dollar me.”
“Luxury” – The Rolling Stones
Some say that attempting to please the public – that most fickle and contentious of entities – is a fool’s errand. I have been trying to inform, educate, inspire, and entertain that collective group through my writing for so long now that it is a habit I find hard to break. But facts and the truth are fragile treasures that others like to twist, debase, and abuse. I understand; it’s the American way. We do like our fables, folklore, mythology, and superstitions. Anyone who has taken the time and effort (very, very few do) to actually study all the religions Homo sapiens have invented in their lengthy history understands this reality.
The objective observer is one who stands in the darkness just outside the light from tribal bonfires and records the actual happenings, not what spin doctors might report the following day. They ask the hard questions and research extensively to find the correct answers, no matter where they may lead. In my 14th book, El Pintado, there are 52 such commentaries on the era we are living in, written weekly over the past year. They were initially published in news outlets including The Gila Herald, the Eastern Arizona Courier/Copper Era, the Hidalgo County Herald, and the Cochise County Herald/Review.
The subjective reader, who may bring lifelong biases, educational background (or lack thereof), and emotional fragility into the mix when attempting to comprehend a collection of written words, often wildly misinterprets them. I have had many readers whose responses were triggered by a sentence or idea that jogged some mental picture from their own lives, which immediately took them off on a completely different tangent from what I had written. They somehow end up believing the preconceived notion in their mind was what the article or story was about, which could not be further from the truth.
In the past twelve months, I have been informed of readers who disliked my writing matter or style enough to end their newspaper subscriptions. One complained to an editor that I was a “useful idiot dupe,” which still puzzles me, although I understand the tone well enough. “Liberal” has been derogatorily applied to me by those who don’t know that the word is synonymous with “tolerant,” “unprejudiced,” “broad-minded,” and “enlightened.” They were obviously striving to include me with some unfavorable political faction different from their own, although I happen to be an independent voter who thinks the majority of politicians are dirty. I don’t put out these things to antagonize people, only to point out the difference between reality and nonsense, and that doesn’t always sit well with self-complacent people who already know it all. “Bilious, venomous, and vituperative,” as one reader remarked. He went on to explain that I was a person “with poisons in my heart and mind” and needed to seek a higher power to save myself.
Luckily, not all reactions to my printed words follow those pathways. In the last year I also garnered accolades such as, “we are your biggest fans,” “your writing is a breath of fresh air,” “you should be writing for the New York Times not small local newspapers,” “intelligent, accurate thinking,” “you continue to amaze,” and “excellent but too short; couldn’t put it down and wanted more.” So they tend to balance themselves out, and if asked which was preferred, it would almost be a toss-up. I just wish the hate mail were of the constructive criticism kind, so I could utilize it, not just emotion-based verbal diarrhea that is best ignored.
As with my previous book, #13: A Baker’s Dozen, the new one is difficult to categorize because it, too, is an anthology that combines fiction with nonfiction. People sometimes find it hard to pigeonhole either my writing or the person behind it, which should keep things more interesting. There is a clear line between the factual and the imagination-driven tales in both books. El Pintado, the latest book, takes its title from the action/adventure novelette (longer than a short story) which tells the tale of a borderlands jaguar that gets itself into trouble, as large predators are apt to do when confronted with human activity. It is the antithesis of the usual writings seen about these big cats in Arizona and New Mexico.
Without meaning to, I find that I have now completed a trilogy, a group of three books that may be taken together as an informative compilation of life in the Southwest in the first quarter of the 21st century, illustrated with hundreds of photographs. “The Last Goodbye” (once banned in Duncan, AZ), #13: A Baker’s Dozen, and El Pintado: An Anthology for 2025 all contain an assortment of bedrock facts concerning wildlife, people, politics, crime, and a dozen other topics. Anyone reading these three is guaranteed to learn something new. As the archivists in the University of Arizona’s Special Collection Branch of the Library tell me, all of my books and papers housed there are now part of an important historical record. Go figure.
I tend to peddle the books one-on-one, and there have been times when I have refused to sell certain volumes to individuals, either because I didn’t feel the content was right for them or because I didn’t want to waste my labor on someone who wasn’t mentally attuned to appreciating it. These are not commercial paperbacks; they are limited edition, rare, and collectible. Of course, this is a good way for a starving artist to remain starving, but it also keeps one’s integrity intact.
On the front cover of my book, “Last Goodbye,” I included, in red ink, “Aviso” then “Best Suited for Independent thinkers. (And never judge a book by its cover)” The photo on the front showed the author with a shotgun in one hand and a Bible in the other while wearing a T-shirt that read: “God, Guns, and Trump.” Like a movie with a large letter “R” rating, I assumed this was a pretty straightforward alert. It wasn’t enough for some.
On the front cover of the new book, “El Pintado,” and also in red letters, are the words, “Only meant for the intellectually curious.” If that doesn’t apply, then this work should be avoided. But if it seems intriguing, the 362 page book, which includes 115 photos, may be seen at the Duncan Public Library, the Simpson Hotel, the Portal, AZ Library, the Main Library in Tucson, the Special Collections branch of the University of Arizona Library, and the Country Chic Art Gallery & Crafters Boutique/Duncan Visitors’ Center where it is sold. Or it may be purchased from the author at P.O. Box 716, Duncan, AZ 85534. Book: $20 S&H: $6 media mail, $11 priority.
Dexter K. Oliver is a freelance writer, wildlife field biologist, and observer of the human condition from Duncan, AZ. His latest book is “El Pintado: An Anthology for 2025.”
