![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiDaVnl8iTQJ3tEG-x_Gu8ELSIg3k7OYzAxgkhKXPzCsoGv425nETOZIx-KrFU4eMfWFz-fzvYWlW-nohc_1fZ-c1kdSYrGiHDH8sIScWWGs5mxjvLE7qJx3z-VtyXxn81p47MHw/s320/general-custer-300.jpg)
...but I can still link it to Carey McWilliams.
Last summer, Matt Bokovoy of the University of Oklahoma Press asked me to write a report on McWilliams's Prejudice (1944) with the idea that the press might reissue it. In return, I received a credit for some of their books.
I chose four:
George Armstrong Custer, My Life on the Plains
Elizabeth Custer, Boots and Saddles
Richard White, It's Your Misfortune and None of My Own
J.S. Holliday, The World Rushed In
I started reading My Life on the Plains and am still making my way through it. Yesterday I came home to find my issue of The New York Review of Books. It included a piece on Custer by Larry McMurtry. Slightly uncanny. McMurtry recommended Evan Connell's Son of the Morning Star, one of my favorites. Also a coincidence since McMurtry and Connell appeared in my review of Philip Fradkin's Stegner bio. (Not sure if Connell made it through the final trim.) Also, McMurtry will make a cameo appearance in the Ramparts book.
This clustering reignited a desire from the mid-1980s to visit Little Bighorn. And maybe that will happen. But in the meantime, I'm tripping on the simple fact that Libbie Custer and my parents were walking the planet at the same time. Actually, my mother might have been crawling the planet when Libbie Custer died in New York City.