BOOK REVIEW.

Byline: DOUGLAS FAIRFIELD

Ranch Gates of the Southwest

by Daniel M. Olsen and Henk van Assen, Trinity University Press, 146 pages

It's amazing what gets published these days. Perusing the bookshelves at Borders or Barnes & Noble or scrolling through the miles of titles on Amazon or Edward R. Hamilton Bookseller on the Internet can reveal titles in rather narrow topics. But this is proof -- or so it is believed by publishers -- that there's a niche audience for just about anything.

Ranch Gates of the Southwest falls into that category. I can't imagine many people other than ranch owners, gate manufacturers, or someone looking to buy a gate would find this book of any interest. Despite the authors' attempt to discuss their material on an academic plane, Ranch Gates is basically a picture book of professional and makeshift portals that dot the southwestern landscape in myriad fashion. In short, the subject is a bit arid for

the mass market.

Daniel M. Olsen and Henk van Assen have the experience and ivory-tower chops for pursuing such a subject -- both are designers and educators on the university level -- but, in the end, their study flirts with the "so what'' factor. Even an introductory essay by writer and culture critic Lucy Lippard and supportive text by landscape architect and professor Kenneth Helphand can't lift this coffee-table book above the ranks of pretty pictures augmented by a modicum of historical content.

And stating the obvious doesn't add much to one's enlightenment. "The practical reason for a gate is to allow passage into and away from the contained area of the ranch," Helphand writes. Elsewhere, he informs us that gates mark "a place of arrival and departure. For residents it is an announcement of coming home. This is where the mailbox is located and communication is dropped off by Rural Free Delivery." Please, even a goof-off from another planet could deduce as much. Helphand does, however, offer some concrete information, such as the etymology of the words gate and rancho and a worthy, although brief, essay on property and naming beginning with the ancient Egyptians up to the Homestead Act of 1862. He also talks about land ownership from a philosophical viewpoint, which is interesting. But what starts out as a fascinating observation by Lippard -- the similarities between ranch gates and entryways to rural cemeteries -- goes nowhere. What I did appreciate was the straightforward explanation of brand symbols by van Assen toward the back of the book, which, in itself, will force me to pay more attention the next time I watch Shane, The Big Country, or Giant.

The production values for the book are first-rate, and a few of the homemade constructs are, indeed, fun; but the majority of the illustrated gates are what they are: simple post-and-lintel archways marking an entrance to someone's property. Many of the same things could be said about entrances to dairy farms in the Midwest and citrus groves in the Deep South. True, horse and cattle ranches have a distinct feel, and their gates tend to reflect that, but are they really that special? Special enough to produce a full-color clothbound book? It's my guess that this publication will be in the bargain bin sooner than later and, subsequently, situated in doctors' offices or other such waiting rooms where people look for a non-heady

diversion to pass the time.

-- Douglas Fairfield