In the Distance

As Håkan’s reputation grows into a living legend, Diaz examines the purpose of stories and what it means to be a myth of the West. During Håkan’s childhood in Sweden, stories function almost as a source of sustenance for him. His brother’s tales of adventure help him cope with the privations and poverty of their circumstances: Linus “distracted him with stories when food and fuel were scarce” (12). Many of the people Håkan encounters in America share his appreciation for how a tale of adventure can liven an existence filled with drudgery. However, Håkan’s relationship with stories changes forever when his own legend is born during the attack on the wagon train: “He recalled a new part of his conscience coming into existence and perishing as he brained a man with the butt end of his gun. He had a keen memory of his departure from himself as he stabbed someone” (133). The other survivors see Håkan as a hero because his violence saves their lives, but only Håkan knows what it is like to live with these deaths on his conscience. Adventure stories comforted Håkan in his childhood, but he feels only revulsion when he recalls the violent tales after becoming a legend himself.

As the novel continues, the myth of the Hawk takes on a life of its own, becoming an oppressive specter over Håkan’s life. He flees from society because he feels agonizing shame when he encounters anyone who knows about the people he killed. The situation worsens when Håkan’s enemies twist the story for their own purposes and blame him for the innocent lives lost. The Soldiers of Jehu’s false version of the tale becomes the most widely known and accepted account. This infamy drastically interferes with Håkan’s ability to pursue his goals and find his brother, as demonstrated by his arrest the first time that he enters a town in years. In Chapter 18, Asa and Håkan’s encounter with the travelers at the mountain pass demonstrates the way “Håkan’s notoriety ha[s] grown into a myth” (190). Indeed, Asa dies because Håkan’s fearsome reputation has drawn the attention of the brethren and bounty hunters. Becoming a legend has ruinous effects on Håkan and those close to him.

Diaz utilizes the novel’s structure and elements of the Western genre to further develop this theme. The frame narrative allows the author to present a litany of legends about the Hawk before revealing which, if any of them, are true: “The tales multiplied, and soon there were several overlapping conversations, their volume increasing together with the boldness and oddity of the deeds narrated” (5). The cacophony of the myths and the contradictions between the passengers’ stories foreshadow the degree to which the legend will outgrow the truth. The passengers’ erroneous stories also contribute to Diaz’s deconstruction of the Western genre. The myths of the Hawk they recount are full of inaccuracies and trivialize violence—both common trends in Western fiction. The author makes repeated references to Håkan’s weariness in the prologue to show how carrying the burden of his false reputation all his life has left him physically and emotionally exhausted: He is “a lame colossus” taking “burdensome steps” and heaving “immensely tired” sighs (5-6). By speaking to his fellow passengers aboard the Impeccable, Håkan at last has the opportunity to unburden himself and have the truth of his story known before he vanishes into the wilderness one final time. Through his deconstruction of the Western genre, Diaz challenges his readers to ponder the purpose of stories and the ways that America mythologizes itself.