The Bowman family had been traders and taken care of the Indians of the Indian country of New Mexico with understanding for over seventy years, but when Alexander stole his brother's wife- he cut himself off from his roots as a writer and as a human being. After four or five novels, written in the parts of the world where expatriate Americans write, Alex loses his literary impetus and his disintegration accelerates as he attempts to find new experiences for his work in big game hunting, fighting in the Israeli- Arab war, mountain climbing, deep sea fishing, etc., and he begins to drink too much. Meanwhile, back in the drought-stricken Indian country, the wifeless young brother, George, lives with his Indians and can't bring himself to write Alex that he should come home until it is too late. The fascinating parts of this book deal with the Indians themselves and with their relations with modern society and the modern white man. But most of the book seems to on the fraudulence of Alex and the world he represents of writers- movie makers- etc. This puts the novel more in the class of White Hunter, Black E than with the good serious writing about the Indian country. Maybe that's where the author wanted it to be.