Lonesome Dove came out in 1985 but I read it the summer following, in a pocket paperback edition. Lonesome Dove is a huge novel, and the pocket paperback didn’t fit into my pocket or even a great big fat man’s pocket, but I read it over a week in the summer and didn’t want it to end. I was just a kid and in Lonesome Dove there was a kid named Newt who must’ve seemed like I seemed to myself.
Every ten years or so I reread Lonesome Dove and enjoy it. It’s a good novel, perhaps not great, but it’s a hoot and I doubt any novel–even the great ones that I’ve read and reread–means as much to me as Lonesome Dove.