The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas by Garth Ennis

Garth Ennis’ Preacher, Volume 1: Gone to Texas is a masterclass in transgressive storytelling, blending theological horror, Western mythology, and dark satire into a narrative that is both relentless and introspective. Paired with Steve Dillon’s unflinching artwork, this volume introduces Jesse Custer, a disillusioned preacher who becomes host to a divine yet unstable force known as Genesis. The result is a meditation on faith, free will, and American identity, all wrapped in a road trip saga that revels in its excesses.

Blasphemy and Reverence: Theological Undertones

At the core of Gone to Texas is a theological dilemma that challenges conventional notions of divinity. Ennis’ depiction of God is neither benevolent nor omnipotent in the traditional sense; instead, He is a capricious and cowardly figure who flees from His creation rather than face the consequences of His actions. This subversive approach places Jesse Custer in the unlikely role of a prophet who seeks to hold God accountable—a theme reminiscent of Miltonic rebellion, where the protagonist does not merely accept divine order but actively questions it.

The presence of Genesis, the offspring of an angel and a demon, suggests a blurred line between good and evil, reinforcing a Nietzschean view that morality is constructed rather than absolute. Jesse’s newfound power—able to command obedience through the “Word of God”—becomes a metaphor for the intoxicating yet precarious nature of religious authority. Unlike the biblical prophets who deliver divine will, Jesse’s quest is to confront and challenge it, aligning him more with existentialist antiheroes than traditional messianic figures.

The American Gothic: A Neo-Western Exploration

If Preacher is a theological text, it is also deeply indebted to the Western genre. Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy form a wandering trio whose journey mirrors the classic frontier narrative, but with an inversion of moral absolutism. Jesse is the cowboy preacher, a modern-day gunslinger whose morality is neither pure nor lawless but deeply personal.

Yet, the Western mythology here is one of decay. The American landscape in Gone to Texas is not one of Manifest Destiny, but of corruption, violence, and grotesque characters that embody the worst excesses of American culture. The Saint of Killers, a spectral enforcer of death, serves as a perversion of the Western hero—a revenant who strips away the romanticism of the gunslinger archetype.

The text thus functions as a critique of American exceptionalism, where notions of justice and heroism are tested against a reality filled with moral compromise and brutality. Like Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, Preacher suggests that violence is not an aberration but an intrinsic part of the American mythos.

Violence, Satire, and the Grotesque

Ennis’ writing is notorious for its unrelenting violence, but in Gone to Texas, this excess serves a larger purpose. Violence here is not merely for shock value—it is a grotesque mirror of societal decay. The villains, whether the grotesquely inbred Odin Quincannon or the sadistic Sheriff Root, are embodiments of unchecked power, hypocrisy, and the perverse underbelly of authority.

Satire plays a crucial role in shaping this bleak vision. The narrative lampoons not only organized religion but also law enforcement, corporate greed, and the superficiality of American idealism. Cassidy, the hard-drinking Irish vampire, functions as an anarchic counterpoint to Jesse’s reluctant moralism, exposing the absurdities of the institutions and ideologies they encounter.

Yet, beneath the cynicism, there is an underlying sincerity. Jesse’s love for Tulip is one of the few uncorrupted forces in the narrative, suggesting that amidst the nihilism, human connection remains meaningful. It is this balance between cynicism and earnestness that prevents Preacher from devolving into mere misanthropy.

A Subversive Masterpiece

Gone to Texas is not simply a comic—it is a deconstruction of American mythology, religious dogma, and the Western hero. It forces the reader to confront uncomfortable questions about morality, faith, and the cost of power. Ennis and Dillon have created a work that is simultaneously profane and profound, where the grotesque and the sublime exist in uneasy proximity.

For those willing to engage with its provocations, Preacher is a rewarding, albeit brutal, exploration of the human condition—one that refuses easy answers and revels in the messy contradictions of existence.