I started reading Zane Grey's Western novella "Riders of the Purple Sage," but I could not stand the unworldly prose. Bits of it were salted goodness; most of it was sour. For example, the good:
The life of his eyes dulled to the gloom with which men of his fear saw the approach of death. But death, while it hovered over him, did not descend, for the rider waited for the twitching fingers, the downward flash of hand that did not come.But the sour dialog included this:
"Oh! Don't whip him! It would be dastardly!" implored Jane with slow certainty of her failing courage.And prose like this:
Jane's subtle woman's intuition, even in that brief instant, felt a sadness, a hungering, a secret.There have been many Western-genre works that I have enjoyed. But, I decided, as I sometimes do, that I did not want to spend my time trying to push through this one. There are many other works worth the time.
Notes:
I had just started chapter three.
The word "sage" (and "purple") was overused and worked into the prose unnecessarily.
