Baled Hay: A Drier Book than Walt Whitman's "Leaves o' Grass"

In Short

This volume is a loose assemblage of satirical essays, fictional anecdotes, and mock-journalistic reports that satirize the pretenses of late 19th-century American life. Whether skewering the artificiality of stagecraft, the incompetence of local politicians, or the solemnity of so-called "dignified" men, the writing relies on a blend of deadpan understatement and wild exaggeration. It persists as a time capsule of Western humor, offering a glimpse into a world where the rugged, often harsh reality of the frontier was processed through a lens of relentless, biting wit.

The Story

The narrative arc is not a traditional plot but a sprawling tour of the American experience as viewed from the vantage point of a cynical, traveling observer. We begin in the train cars and editorial offices of the American West, where the narrator—a self-deprecating wit—navigates the indignities of travel, the frustrations of the news trade, and the bizarre characters encountered on the road. The prose moves fluidly from the "home nest" of the American youth, whom the author encourages to abandon the comforts of home to face the "outrageous fortune" of the world, to the desolate reality of life in the sagebrush.

The journey takes us through a series of "trying situations." We observe the social decay of forgotten frontierswomen, the absurd violence of domestic disputes involving husbands who shoot at curtains, and the dark, dry humor of a man recounting the death of his children to a sympathetic but weary listener. The tone oscillates between the absurd and the bleak; we see a man documenting his own starvation in the wilderness with the same detached, matter-of-fact tone he uses to discuss the improper way an artist draws a mining pan.

As the book progresses, the scope widens to critique national icons. The author takes a firm stand against the "dignified snoozer"—the man who relies on an austere demeanor to hide a lack of intelligence—and calls for a more practical, if ungraceful, approach to life. He mocks the theater, dissecting the "delusion and snare" of stage bald-heads and the catastrophic failures of stage machinery. He chronicles the departure of local "dead-beats" and the petty rivalries of surgeons in the morgue with equal fervor.

By the end, the narrative settles into a quiet, somewhat exhausted retirement. The author steps down from his post as a United States Commissioner, dismissing the need for honors or gold-headed canes, and expresses a weary desire to return to the simplicity of family life. He leaves the reader with a final, lingering thought on the "baled information" of his era, concluding that whether one is a pioneer or a politician, the only way to endure is to keep moving, keep working, and—above all—avoid the temptation of taking oneself too seriously.

How It Unfolds

The introduction of the author The narrator establishes his credentials by mocking his own trade, framing his work as a "drier" alternative to high-minded poetry. He introduces his wife as his long-suffering champion and sets the stage for a series of sketches that aim to be entirely devoid of beauty or pretension.

The critique of societal norms The narrative shifts to the habits of the youth and the decaying state of the frontier. The author argues that young men must leave home to succeed, while offering a compassionate, if cynical, plea for the marginalized inhabitants of the West to abandon the "demon of drink."

The theater and the absurd The focus turns to the artificiality of public performance. Through detailed examinations of stage props and mechanical failures, the author peels back the curtain on the "delusion" of the theater, favoring the raw, unpolished reality of life over the fake, red-faced bald-heads of the stage.

The darker side of the frontier The tone turns somber yet remains dry as the narrator recounts a father's grief, followed by a surreal, violent argument between two surgeons over a corpse. These scenes highlight the strange, often grotesque, collisions of life and death in the remote West.

The resignation of the commissioner The final movement follows the narrator’s retirement from a minor government post. He reflects on his time in public service, dismissing his own importance while offering a final, sardonic look at the bureaucracy he leaves behind for his successor.

The People

The Narrator serves as the heartbeat of the book—a "mental athlete" who has been soured by the profession of being a humorist. He is cynical, weary, and prone to sudden, violent outbursts of pragmatism. He views himself as a man of the people, yet he stands apart, observing the "dead-beats" and "dignified snoozers" with a mixture of pity and contempt.

Mrs. Rise-up-William-Riley represents the harsh reality of the frontier. Abandoned by the progress of the nation, she is a "decaying belle" living in the sagebrush. The narrator’s interaction with her—encouraging her to "brace up" and shun the bottle—reveals the gulf between the optimistic American ideal and the grim, dusty truth of the West.

Judge Blair stands as a foil to the narrator’s cynicism. A "consistent official" who sings hymns that make the firmament crack, he represents the rare, sincere man who manages to navigate the world without falling into the traps of dishonesty or vanity that the narrator so frequently lampoons.

Finally, the Doc Lamb and the Narrator (in his role as a surgeon’s assistant) offer a chaotic, humanizing look at professional incompetence. Their petty, physical brawl over a cadaver reveals the fragility of human dignity, even in the most serious of settings.

In Its Own Voice

"I have taken great care to thoroughly eradicate anything that would have the appearance of poetry in this work, and there is not a thought or suggestion contained in it that would soil the most delicate fabric."

The narrator sets the tone early, promising a work of plain, unvarnished prose that avoids the lofty, useless beauty of contemporary literature.

"He leans gently over you as you look out the car window, and he puts some pecan meats in your hand, and thus wins your trusting heart."

This observation captures the narrator’s grudging respect for the ingenious, if manipulative, tactics of the train-boy who sells books to unsuspecting travelers.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an argument for authenticity in an age of performance. The author is deeply suspicious of anything that feels "staged"—whether that is a theater production with false bald-heads, a politician with a dignified air, or a society that hides its poverty behind a veneer of progress. He explores the tension between the harsh, unmanageable reality of the frontier and the human impulse to create myths, systems, and "baled" information to explain it away. The book questions whether it is possible to live a life that is both successful and honest, suggesting that true wisdom lies in accepting one’s ungraceful, "eccentric" nature rather than trying to fit into a mold that was never designed for actual human beings.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, deadpan style of modern satirists will find a familiar rhythm here. The book is a fascinating study in the evolution of American humor; it feels remarkably modern in its rejection of pomposity and its insistence on calling a spade a spade. It is particularly rewarding for those interested in the "mythic" West, as it pulls the curtain back on the loneliness and frustration that the romanticized versions of the frontier often ignore.

However, the reader should be prepared for the realities of its time. The writing is steeped in the attitudes of the 1880s, and the casual, often dismissive language regarding Native Americans and gender roles reflects the prejudices of the era. The structure, too, is unconventional; it is a collage of fragments rather than a linear narrative, which can feel jarring if one is expecting a traditional story. Yet, if you approach it as a series of sharp, conversational dispatches from a man who has seen too much and lost his patience with the artificial, you will find a surprisingly sharp and enduringly funny companion. It stays with you not for its plot, but for its voice—a voice that refuses to be impressed by anything but the truth.