In the early hours before dawn, when most are still asleep, William Augustine sits down to write. These quiet moments, he finds, are when his thoughts flow most clearly, before the day’s distractions can cloud his creative vision. It’s a discipline that has
served him well, leading to the creation of six novels, including his latest work, “Back to the West.”
Augustine’s journey as an author began with a clear mission: to influence people’s thinking about cultural and political trends through the power of storytelling. While many authors in the conservative and libertarian space opt for non-fiction treatises, Augustine recognized a crucial gap – those who most needed to engage with these ideas often wouldn’t pick up such books. His solution was to weave these themes into compelling fiction, stripped of potentially alienating political labels.
“If I inspire someone to recognize where our culture is headed, I have succeeded,” Augustine explains, defining his measure of literary achievement. This mission is perhaps most evident in “Back to the West,” a novel born from his observations of modern education. Drawing from his own experience as a questioning student who often found himself at odds with authority, Augustine crafted a story that speaks to today’s young people who might feel stifled by increasingly structured educational environments.
His writing process is methodical yet organic. Unlike the romantic notion of authors simply transcribing their dreams onto paper, Augustine emphasizes the importance of research in creating believable fictional worlds. He typically spends a couple of hours each day writing, preferring quality over quantity. “If I push to write more in a day, it becomes a task,” he notes. This measured approach allows him to complete rough drafts of his books in approximately two months.
Inspiration comes to Augustine in unexpected ways, often arriving as fully formed ideas in the early morning hours, “almost like it was downloaded,” as he describes it. He weaves his personal experiences into his narratives, adapting real-life incidents to serve his stories. Among his works, he holds a special place for “Wagon Train Legacy,” describing it as his most personal book.
Augustine’s literary influence stems from Ayn Rand, whose ability to convey philosophical ideas through fiction he deeply admires. Like Rand, he seeks to dramatize important social and cultural dynamics through his storytelling. This approach continues in his upcoming work, “Common Ground,” which explores religious themes and the potential alliance between different faiths against secular humanism.
The author is also working on a sequel to “Back to the West,” expanding upon his examination of individualism and societal trends. Through all his works, Augustine maintains his core mission: to illuminate potential cultural trajectories and their implications for personal liberty, one story at a time.
His approach to writing – combining careful research, personal experience, and a clear philosophical purpose – has produced works that challenge readers to think deeply about the direction of society while remaining accessible and engaging. As Augustine continues to write in those quiet morning hours, he remains focused on his goal of reaching readers who might never pick up a political treatise but who might, through story, come to understand the cultural crossroads at which we stand.
Read Back to the West
“Men have been taught that it is a virtue to agree with others. But the creator is the man who disagrees. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to swim with the current. But the creator is the man who goes against the current. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to stand together. But the creator is the man who stands alone.” Howard Roark in The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand.
CHAPTER 1
Adam counted four teachers monitoring students in the hallway during the change of classes. Loitering, loud talking, off-color joke sharing, teasing, hints of bullying, or flirtation were nipped in the bud. Adam often wondered what differences separated the control at the state prison and the Peoria High School hallway.
Adam Duval’s high school locker was next to Terresa Davis’s. Because of their names, they also sat side by side in the two classes they shared. The school had adopted a policy of seating students in alphabetical order. Doing so broke up the stereotypical rule of trouble-prone boys sitting in the back of the room and obedient girls in front. The policy also eliminated self-separation based upon race, gender proclivity, social groups, intelligence, or adherence to rules.
Earlier in the day Adam had noticed Terresa wearing tight black leggings and a white top. She had worn the combination two weeks prior on a Tuesday and a month earlier. It was his favorite outfit on her. And, in his mind, put her a step above the factory-holey jeans most often worn by girls. She wasn’t hard to miss in a crowded hallway, at five feet seven, taller than most girls with her abundant brunette hair rising above the hallway cluster of students. Adam made sure his glasses weren’t sagging on his nose, then turned, and smiled at her as they opened their lockers. He was tempted to start a conversation, but his friend John had been reprimanded by the principal last week for harassing a girl. Earlier in the week he’d asked Terresa whether she enjoyed working at her dad’s hardware store. Prudence said not to initiate a conversation again. Any kind of what could be construed as flirtation had to be kept to a minimum, but prudence was not his middle name.
Adam decided to go for it and ask her about her history essay when her towering boyfriend walked up. He was six feet two, and a forward on the basketball team. Those girls in his high school who chose to date guys preferred tall ones. Because he was only five feet six, finding a girlfriend was as difficult as getting around the gas allotment for your car.
For short guys, the pool of dating-interested girls was small. Some girls sought cultural acceptability by becoming super friends with another girl. Other girls sought independence and solitude, avoiding the hassle of befriending the hormone-plagued masculine gender.
“How ya doing’ there, Adam?” asked her boyfriend.
“Good, you had a great game last night,” Adam answered.
“Yeh, I scored fifteen points. Coach said I was great.”
The boyfriend whispered something in Terresa’s ear. Adam smiled at her. He was sure Terresa smiled back at him and seemed to ignore her boyfriend, at least that was his hope. With Adam following, they headed for history class.
The history class was primarily for seniors as were Terresa and her boyfriend. Adam was a junior, or a third-year student as wokesters called them. It was common for Adam to be placed with older students. As a freshman, he was placed in a geography class with seniors. Getting an A in the class among upper classmates cemented his reputation as weird.
“Take your seats and quiet, please,” Ms. Johnson-Corinth stated, as always, like a recording before she previewed the reading of essays.
“Historically, the definition of theft has changed, although it has always been used to describe the socially unacceptable seizure of lands or goods. For instance, in pioneer times, stealing land from indigenous people was acceptable, while someone taking a chicken from their neighbor to feed their starving family was not. Your history assignment over the weekend was to write an essay with an example of how the definition of theft has changed over time.”
Ms. Judith Johnson-Corinth was in her fourth year of teaching American history. Her mission was to prepare students for successful lives in an enlightened society. She found her biggest obstacle was parents who clung to archaic ideas. Her home partnership was with a man, but she chose to keep her mother’s preferred name. It was often whispered around school that she spent a lot of time with the principal, but Adam ignored the gossip.
Ms. Johnson-Corinth was troubled this morning. Her mother had called the previous night, casually, but obviously to make a point, mentioning her neighbor babysitting a new granddaughter. Judith ignored the hint. Her mate and she agreed—the teeter-totter of environmental balance on planet Earth could not handle more humans. And how would they balance their mortgage payments, club memberships, and humanist donations with the cost of soccer camp? No, she had eighteen adolescents in her history class—they were her children and responsibility. The mission that had been drilled into her at the university was to teach children what to think, not how to think.
Terresa was the third student called upon to stand before the class and read her essay.
In olden times, the mode of transportation was sacrosanct. Your horse was not only your means to the general store but often the animal became your pet. Punishment for taking another person’s horse was brutal, sometimes the penalty involved a rope. Today we see the need for transportation differently. Often the person who would take your car has greater need than you do. Cars can be tracked; they will be returned, and don’t become pets. If you can afford the car payment, you can probably afford a bus ride. Low penalties and no bail for car theft are signs of the enlightened times in which we live.
“That was very good, Terresa. I particularly like your use of a word some may not know, sacrosanct. For tomorrow’s assignment, everyone shall write a sentence containing the word. Now, Adam, you are next.”
As Adam stepped to the front of the room, he heard a few snickers. Many looked forward to his essay, knowing that his independence sometimes would get him into trouble. Others admired the courage he often displayed.
We studied last week in class that Israel stole land from Palestinians, but there never was a nation of Palestine. And we ignore that Israelites had the land first and it was taken from them. Who is the thief and who is the victim depends upon the politics of the day.
As a boy, my dad and grandfather traveled out of state to hunt and fish, should they not have a claim to the lands they went to? Nomadic Stone Age Indians, we are told, had the land they traveled through stolen from them, but in virtually all cases Indians were paid for land they claimed. They traveled through areas to hunt and fish like my father. How can the National Park Service steal the hunting and fishing lands from my father with no compensation?
Boys and girls from my neighborhood loved to play in a nearby area with trees and a creek running through it. The city turned it into a dog park. Now you must have a dog to go there. Is that not theft from boys and girls?
We often hear today that thieves are the modern-day Robin Hoods. Nothing could be further from the truth. Most thieves today do not give to the poor but sell their plunder for gain. Robin Hood returned to the people loot which had been taken from them by the government.
When Adam sat down, the teacher took a deep breath before saying, “Adam, in this class we respect out-of-touch points of view, but besmirching groups will not be tolerated. We do not use the derogatory term Indians; we say Indigenous Americans. And we do not exclude children by the binary term boys and girls. You will attend a series of sensitivity training classes after school starting next Tuesday.”
Although a few students tossed Adam approving glances as they left class, they kept their distance. It was as if he had acquired a new variant of COVID-19. Terresa hurried away from her locker as Adam approached at the end of the day. At the Friday night basketball game, it was like he was a pariah with the history teacher observing the student section. Empty seats surrounded him. Terresa’s boyfriend again excelled on the court. At halftime, he wondered why he was at the game when he preferred to be at home reading his dad’s old western novels. He left.
Adam enjoyed Connie’s Sunday School class. In many ways, it was like being in a different world. The day’s lesson was that one should obey authority, but only if it did not conflict with God’s will. Connie taught truths that made sense, although the students knew taking what they learned in Connie’s class to regular school had consequences.
Although no seating assignments were given in Sunday School, Adam sat down beside Terresa, not necessarily out of habit.
“I really enjoyed your essay,” she said. “I agreed with all that you said and wish I could speak as courageously.”
“Why can’t you? I’d love to hear your real ideas.”
“Just too dangerous. If I don’t get into the right university, my parents will be devastated. All their country club friends’ children got into a good school. And Dad says my behavior in school might influence whether his hardware store is audited by the IRS.”
After church, Adam helped his mother clean the kitchen table when his dad left for his auto body shop to catch up on paperwork. Adam announced, “I’m biking to the stables for the afternoon to ride Chester.”
Adam’s dad grew up on a farm where his parents kept a horse, not for farm work but it was part of the farm, he often said. Although their home was on a double lot, no way could they keep a horse. Five years earlier, Adam’s dad had purchased a horse and kept it at a stable south of town. When Adam took up riding also, his dad bought half interest in another horse so they could ride together. Sometimes his parents would go riding together, but his younger sister had no interest in riding.
“No, you are not. It’s over ten miles away,” his mother declared.
“Why not? I’ve ridden my bike there before?”
“Not anymore. In February, you’ll get your driver’s license. Until then, someone must take you and I can’t today.”
“I’m fifteen. When Davy Crockett was twelve, he was indentured to a cattle driver and found his over a hundred miles way home from Virginia.”
“Well, you’re not Davy Crockett and times are different. Remember, a neighbor turned in the parents of two children who were allowed to walk unaccompanied three blocks to a park last year. They were forced to spend thousands on legal fees to keep custody of the children from DCFS.”
“I thought when I got older I could do more, not less.”
“That’s just the way it is. Learn to live with it as we all must.”
Adam huffed, but knew it was fruitless to argue. Changing the subject, he asked, “Do you think I have the Napoleon complex?”
“Who told you that? You are not that short. Ignore them, but I must ask, how did you respond to that?”
“I told them that although Napoleon was generally described as five feet two, French inches were longer than English inches. He was the equivalent of five feet six in English measurement, no shorter than the average Frenchman of the time.”
With that answer, she understood why some would say he had the Napoleon complex. It had nothing to do with his height. Nevertheless, she was proud of her son and hugged him.
“What are you going to do this afternoon?”
“I found another book in Dad’s library titled Sin Killer by Larry McMurtry.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s about an aristocratic Lord Berrybender who finds life boring in England and travels up the Missouri River in 1830, two hundred years ago. He encounters the Sin Killer, a part-time preacher, who Berrybender’s daughter, Tasmin, falls for.”
Monday morning Terresa was early at literature class. Adam sat and immediately asked her how her weekend was. He thought their discussion in Bible school class had broken a barrier and they could become friends. He was wrong; she turned and ignored him. He could feel his heart sink; he scolded himself having mistakenly raised his hopes.
Mx. Bellamy, the teacher, did not ignore him as she/they entered the room. Her eyes immediately focused on Adam. She taught part of the sensitivity training curricula he was to start Tuesday after school. Adam immediately jumped to the conclusion Ms. Johnson-Corinth had advised Mx. Bellamy of Adam’s essay. He was right—There would be hell to pay starting Tuesday.
Samantha (Sam) Bellamy at her prior school had gone by the honorific of Ms. She felt like it was as generic as it could get, but it felt jarring when someone called her Ms. It was her mother who found a more appropriate nonbinary honorific used in California, Mx. She was in her second-year teaching literature at Adam’s North Peoria high school.
Mx. Bellamy wore her dark hair in a crew cut, shorter than most boys. Her clothes were always two sizes too big for her like she’d lost weight, she hadn’t. Adam and two friends had bet whether Mx. Bellamy had her hair trimmed at a woman’s salon, barbershop, or did it herself. The answer had not been determined.
Once situated at her desk, Mx Bellamy said, “As always, your first assignment Monday morning is to tell us what book you read from last weekend. We’ll start at the back of the room.”
After a few students named books Adam had never heard of, a boy stood and said he read more chapters of The Life and Death of Lenin by Robert Payne. Mx. Bellamy asked the boy,
“What year did Lenin return to Russia after a decade of exile?”
The boy hee-hawed, then answered, “I guess, I haven’t got to that part yet.”
“He returned in 1917. Next week be prepared to answer more questions about the book,” she replied igniting a few muffled snickers. Most knew the boy likely hadn’t gotten close to the book, and his effort to impress the teacher with his choice of books had backfired.
Terresa was next and reported she had finished Mitt Romney’s No Apologies.
“What did his dad do?” Mx. Bellamy asked.
“He was President of American Motors and ran for US President,” replied Terresa. “Very good, Terresa, for choosing to read sanity instead of extremist propaganda. Adam, you are next.”
“I’m halfway through The Sin Killer by Larry McMurtry.”
“Have you read others of the author?” “Yes, I read Lonesome Dove and The Last Picture Show.”
“How often have I advised students to read a variety of genres? You are stuck in a grove. You are limiting yourself to stories slighting Indigenous Americans and women. To set an example for the class, I’m deducting five percent from your grade.”
Adam expected something was coming but not this. He was livid but rational as he controlled his temper well. It struck him that he had nothing to lose but his dignity which he would protect. “May I ask you a question?
Mx. Bellamy didn’t answer but kept her eyes on him as he spoke. “Are you a descendant of the Bellamy who was a socialist hypocrite flag salesman and wrote the Pledge of Allegiance?”
She froze standing behind her desk, a pin dropping would have sounded loud in the room until she walked to the door, held it open, and said, “Properly, you say salesperson instead of salesman. And now you can follow me to the principal’s office.”
Adam was sure he could hear laughter in the room once the door was closed. He had no regrets.
