Mr. Stratton went in search of 'the Rodeo', or at least that's what he says. I don't think he really found it, or more to the point, I don't think he was really looking. Instead of any genuine incite into the last bastion of cowboy culture, we are offered a superficial and folksy account of how people in the Midwest don't like to eat sushi, but love to wear Wrangler jeans. So much time did the book spend discussing cowboy fashion, that I had to check the cover and make sure I hadn't picked up a copy of Cowboy Vogue. Stratton spends a lot of time delving into his personal family history, which is fine, but he doesn't really have enough emotional material to make a book out of it. And then he periodically drops back in to let us know whether such and such cowboy likes to wear Wranglers or Levi's.
Rodeo culture has taken a fascinating and almost mythical compartment of the American psyche. Riders spend there lives hopping from motel to motel. Listening to their kids grow up and their wives grow weary from the end of a phone line. All of this sacrifice and hardship in search of a reward that rarely covers the entry fee, and even if they hit the jackpot, it won't keep them above water for long. There isn't much fame to speak of, even the most legendary riders are barely known beyond the circuit... so why do they do it? What keeps them getting back on the horse (forgive the pun)? Stratton rarely takes the time to understand this, instead choosing to discuss... whether he should wear a hat or not. If you really want to learn about Rodeo culture, "Biting the Dust" by Dirk Johnson is a far superior bet.