Tony Hillerman didn't actually want to call it The Blessing Way.
Honestly, he wanted to call it The Enemy Way. His publishers at Harper & Row overruled him, probably because "Blessing" sounded a lot more marketable than "Enemy" back in 1970. It's kind of a funny irony, considering the book kicks off a series that basically redefined the American police procedural by injecting it with heavy doses of Navajo (Diné) theology and high-desert atmosphere.
You’ve likely heard of Joe Leaphorn. He’s the legendary, "Legendary Lieutenant" of the Navajo Tribal Police. But if you pick up a first edition of The Blessing Way expecting the Leaphorn you know from the later books or the Dark Winds TV show, you’re in for a massive shock. In this debut, Joe Leaphorn isn't even the main character. He’s almost a sidekick in his own universe.
Why The Blessing Way Still Matters Today
The book is a bit of a weird bird. It’s part academic thriller, part slasher-in-the-woods, and part deep-dive into cultural anthropology. The story follows Bergen McKee, a disillusioned anthropology professor from the University of New Mexico. He’s out in the high country of the Navajo reservation—specifically the Many Ruins Canyon area—trying to research Navajo witchcraft.
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He’s looking for "Navajo Wolves."
While McKee is busy being a skeptical academic, Leaphorn is investigating a corpse. A young Navajo man named Luis Horseman has been found dead in a very specific, very disturbing way: his mouth is stuffed with sand. No tracks. No clues. Just a body in a place it shouldn't be.
Hillerman was doing something radical here. He wasn't just writing a "whodunnit." He was writing a "whydunnit" rooted in a worldview where "evil" isn't just a moral failing, but a physical disruption of hozho—the Navajo concept of harmony and balance.
The Mystery of the "Leaphorn" Who Wasn't Quite There
Let’s be real: Hillerman was still finding his feet. In The Blessing Way, Leaphorn is more "Anglo" than he would eventually become. He’s cynical. He relies on logic and deduction in a way that feels almost Sherlockian. It wasn't until later books—and especially the introduction of the more traditional Jim Chee in People of Darkness (1980)—that Hillerman really nailed the tension between modern law enforcement and ancient tradition.
If you're looking for Jim Chee in this one? Forget it. He doesn't exist yet.
The plot eventually reveals that the "supernatural" elements—the wolf-witch sightings scaring the locals—are actually a cover for something much more mundane and "Cold War." We’re talking about a secret radar installation and people trying to steal missile data. It’s a classic Hillerman move: the "witch" is almost always a very human villain using cultural fears as a tactical smoke screen.
Factual Breakdown of the 1970 Debut
- Protagonist: Primarily Bergen McKee, with Leaphorn in a secondary role.
- The Victim: Luis Horseman, a petty criminal who stumbled onto something too big for him.
- The Antagonist: The "Big Navajo" (George Jackson), a man who has lost his cultural moorings and turned to greed.
- Setting: The Lukachukai Mountains and the Navajo Reservation near the Four Corners.
The Cultural Impact and the "White Man" Problem
Hillerman was a white guy from Oklahoma. He knew he was an outsider. He actually used Bergen McKee as a surrogate for himself—a way to explore the reservation through the eyes of someone who respected the culture but didn't fully belong to it.
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The Navajo people eventually embraced him, though. He received the "Special Friend of the Dineh" award from the Navajo Nation. Why? Because he didn't treat their religion as a "spooky" gimmick. He treated it as a living, breathing system of law and ethics.
In The Blessing Way, the ritual isn't just window dressing. The "Blessing Way" (Hózhóójí) is actually a ceremony used to ensure a long life and a peaceful path. By titling the book after it, Hillerman was signaling that the resolution of the crime wasn't just about putting a guy in handcuffs. It was about restoring the world to its proper state.
What Most Readers Miss
People often get confused about the timeline. This book was written between 1967 and 1970. Hillerman was working as a professor at UNM and writing after his kids went to bed. He almost gave up. His agent even rejected the manuscript!
Imagine that. One of the most successful mystery series in history almost died because an agent thought the "Navajo stuff" was too niche.
Also, the "Big Navajo" is a fascinating villain because he represents the danger of alienation. He’s a man who has "gone white" in all the wrong ways—adopting the greed and violence of the outside world while using his heritage only as a weapon to terrify his own people. It's a nuanced take on identity that you didn't see much in 70s paperbacks.
Real-World Takeaways for Fans
If you're diving back into Hillerman's world or starting for the first time, keep these things in mind:
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- Don't skip the "slow" parts. The descriptions of the landscape aren't just filler. In Hillerman’s world, the geography is the plot. If someone is trapped in a canyon, the rock type and the wind direction matter for the solution.
- Watch the shifting perspective. Unlike the later, tighter novels, this one jumps around. It feels more like an adventure novel than a police procedural at times.
- Appreciate the "Hozho." Look for how Leaphorn looks for patterns. He doesn't just look for fingerprints; he looks for things that are "out of place" in a spiritual or social sense. That’s his real superpower.
If you want to understand where the modern Indigenous noir genre started—from Longmire to Reservation Dogs—you basically have to start here. It’s the DNA of the whole thing.
To get the full experience of Hillerman’s evolution, read The Blessing Way first, but then immediately jump to Dance Hall of the Dead. You’ll see the exact moment where Leaphorn stops being a supporting character and starts becoming a literary icon.