Man is Larry McMurty's Lonesome Dove a big ass book, or what? Normally after reading 589 pages you've read two or three books not just about made it half through one. But Lonesome Dove is never tiresome. It is not over described either, just beautifully painted. Transporting you to a version of the Old West that may or may not be accurate, the novel frolicks rather than drags. Characters pop up and the story meanders off and I couldn't decide what plot I wanted McMurty to stick with. Bandits, snake-chopping cooks, whores, gamblers, cowboys and out of place Irishmen fill up a real and vivid world that I don't want to leave. So I'm reading the last five hundred pages or so very slowly.
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