Sundance by David Fuller

“Those were good times, though, weren’t they? I miss ‘em, I do. But the two of us back together? I can’t be famous again. I only just learned to be dull. It’s not so bad.”


Screenwriter/novelist David Fuller takes a whack at the legend of Harry Alonzo Longabaugh, aka “The Sundance Kid.” In his imaginings, Sundance didn’t die in Bolivia, and we are glad for it. 


We follow the charmer in his twilight years as he heads East to New York City to look for the love of his life, Etta Place.


Along the way we encounter the Triangle Fire, anarchists, Charlie Siringo, and a few surprises.

Fuller has the easy-going Redford redolent Sundance charm down cold. The character is a pleasure to spend time with. So much so, I’ll admit that as the novel wore on and leaned on the inevitable mechanics of plot I was a little disappointed as Sundance must react to plot-mechanics rather than simply be the laidback charmer.


Honestly, Fuller could have doubled the length of the narrative and simply allowed Sundance to mosey along. I’d follow that character anywhere.


But, for this reader, the plot become so baroque Sundance must take a backseat in a sense.


Don’t read that wrong. This is a fine novel, constructed with much craft, albeit a timely coincidence or two does mar credibility. But Fuller is to be congratulated to provide such an indelible character.


Sundance’s outward demeanor is one of never flagging charm.


While his inner dialogue is rife with potent observations, as in the following.


“Experience taught him that intuition was a weak sense, a shallow sense. Intuition fooled men into thinking they had secret unconscious knowledge ready to tap when in fact it was no more than guesswork, and often poorly informed guesswork, based on past experiences that would never truly align with current conditions. Intuition was to be engaged for frivolous things, never for matters of life, love, or death. Intuition led men to quick judgments, and invited superstition.”


Such observations abound.