Long before David Markson became critics’ favorite underrated writer of experimental fiction, he was a pulp novelist. This newly reissued 1966 Western is an outrageously ribald take on the genre (marred, unfortunately, by a subpar Frank Sinatra film that was later made of it). A sample sentence: “‘Nice to have you back, you double-dealing, women-and-children-terrifying dishonorable skunk,’ Hoke said, setting aside the pen.” Trust us: there’s a lot more where that came from.