After You, Gary Cooper…
A model commentary
The central conceit of this poem is to imagine life as a confrontation, in the metaphorical terms of a Wild West
shootout. As the title suggests, its speaker prefers to offer the dubious glory of living one’s life as a hero to
someone else, specifically a Hollywood actor, whose name invokes an allusion to High Noon, his most famous
cowboy role as the reluctant amateur sheriff saving a community of worthless townsfolk.
INTRODUCTION
The form of the poem is a kind of meditative rather than dramatic monologue, reinforced by the speaker’s
conversational working out of an idea – namely, that “life … can be a bit of a bastard”. Dawe maintains this casual,
man-in-the-street philosophising through the use of parenthetic phrases like “off-hand, of course”, or such informal
expressions as “Personally, I’m damn glad…” The effect of this mode of address to the reader is to reinforce the
speaker’s attitude of knowing reticence, a tone which supports his central idea that its better to hang back and avoid
risks than speak up in bold declarative statements in the face of “an awful lot of hot lead”.
Dawe’s use of diction skilfully combines a plethora of references to the culture of Hollywood westerns – “Main
Street’; “Boot Hill”; “Colt forty-five” – with the self-effacing slang of an Australian idiom – “a long shade of
odds”; “safely out of earshot”; “a bit of a bastard” – as well as the more contemporary language of our risk
conscious urban world – “the basic formula”; “insurance premiums”; “a marked deficiency”. The poem’s success
in fact lies in the way Dawe has managed to integrate these three different language types into a single voice, while
still taking advantage of their unique qualities. The laconic Australian slang punctuates with irony what are in fact
three quite long-winded sentences, setting off not only the intellectual tone of “this awkward proposition” but also
the inflated Hollywood machismo of “packed on the hip, butt out, with trigger tied back like a Colt forty-five”. The
latter metaphor(mula) beautifully expresses this also through its punchy rhythm and coarse alliterative
monosyllables that almost cry out for an American cowboy’s accent. But this macho rhythmic pattern doesn’t
awkwardly intrude, despite the use of hyphenated punctuation to insert it in the sentence. Its alliteration is prepared
for in the more elongated phrasing that precedes it, with the blend of repeated ‘b’, ‘h’ and ‘f’ sounds.
EXPOSITION
The use of imagery, like the poem’s rhythm and diction, is smoothly incorporated into the speaker’s overall
argument that life is a little more complex and risky than a Hollywood western. Personifying Life as “that taciturn
hero with the steel-blue eye” and characterising its ‘solution’ as a metaphorical gunslinger’s trusty weapon, Dawe
suggests that representations of life as a heroic confrontation between the individual and fate are dangerous
oversimplifications. Even the ironic qualification of the ‘hero’ as something less than mythical in his prowess –
“certainly not chain-lightning on the draw” – deftly marries the proverbial notion of life’s tediousness with its
ability to surprise “once he does clear leather”.
The final stanza picks up the extended metaphor of the traditional “dusty Main Street” shoot out, while reminding
us that it comes from Hollywood stereotypes – “Ranch Night at the local theatre”. Although the speaker clearly
emphasizes an ironic desire for anonymity, preferring to take life “from around the nearest corner” rather than on
“parade”, two statements seem to bear the fuller weight of the poem’s impact. His intention to “let Life have it
where it’ll do most good” is immediately followed by the corner reference, implying that the “most good” in life is
to be found around it, not in the Main Street. But the proper sense of the sentence is that the “most good” refers to
where Life ‘gets it’, not where we are when we ‘dish it out’. However, the ambiguity is surely intentional and the
best interpretation seems to be that we won’t find the most good in life by imitating Hollywood stereotypes of
heroism. The poem’s final line reinforces this with its implication of short-lived fame and vanity, where “for the
sake of looking good” life is reduced to “twenty gunsmoke-glorious seconds…”
imagery = key terms
monologue = other important technical terms
CONCLUSION
After You, Gary Cooper…
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One of the main things I would say
(off-hand, of course) about this
awkward proposition known as
Life, is that it can be a bit of a
bastard if you don't happen to have
the basic formula for facing it
ready to hand – packed on the hip,
butt out, with trigger tied back
like a Colt forty-five
– and your insurance premiums paid up.
Particularly since Life,
that taciturn hero with the steel-blue eye,
though certainly not chain-lightening
on the draw, can usually overcome
what bystanders, if safely out of earshot, might call
a marked deficiency
by pumping an awful lot of hot lead
in your general direction once he does clear leather.
Personally, I'm damn glad
I won't ever be any closer
To the old Wild West than
Ranch Night at the local theatre,
because I'd a hell of a lot sooner
let Life have it where it'll do most good
from around the nearest corner,
than parade the dusty Main Street
of some anonymous cow-town, taking
a long shade of odds on a one-way trip
to Boot Hill, just for the sake of looking good for twenty
gunsmoke-glorious seconds…
Bruce Dawe