The Bushwhacked Piano dazzles with the linguistic fireworks that have become Thomas McGuane's hallmark. Armed with an acute sense of auditory detail and a profound affection for linguistic melody, McGuane fearlessly leaps into this narrative, surfacing with a vibrant array of scintillating metaphors and audacious stylistic quirks. From twisted clichés to fractured similes, and from ultra-cool slang to luxuriant literary narration, he leaves no stone unturned. Critics may sometimes chastise him for his slickness or his penchant for wisecracks that might overshadow the story, yet his most brilliant quips rival the comedic genius of any American writer in this era, securing his place in the pantheon of black humor alongside legends like Joseph Heller and Philip Roth.

The Bushwhacked Piano further reveals McGuane's cinematic sensibilities, evident in its vivid imagery and its frequent resemblance to a screenplay, particularly in the dynamic exchanges between Payne and Codd. McGuane's stylistic mantra seems to hinge on a total rejection of pretentiousness: With equal gusto, he mocks intellectuals and fools alike, crafting a daring prose that celebrates the act of writing through unrestrained self-expression.

McGuane's body of work has sparked comparisons with a diverse array of literary forerunners. His deft manipulation of dialogue and exuberant stylistic flourishes have drawn parallels to Faulkner. His intriguing fascination with the jetsam of modern existence, coupled with his sharp critique of America bathed in the glow of neon and the glare of television, brings to mind the narratives of Donald Barthelme. Furthermore, his focus on confused souls scrambling to maintain a grip on the broken pieces of their reality aligns him most closely with Thomas Pynchon. McGuane himself has acknowledged the deep-seated influence of Stephen Crane and, notably, Mark Twain, along with contemporary writers like Kurt Vonnegut and Jim Harrison.

A consistent thread of comparison links McGuane's fiction to that of Ernest Hemingway. Shared settings, ranging from Key West to the Rockies, a shared passion for sport fishing, and the discernment of Hemingway-esque "codes" that dictate interactions among men embroiled in primal contests, all fuel this association. However, these comparisons frequently overlook McGuane's pervasive ironic parody. From his frequent subversions of the terse Hemingway style to his portrayal of George Russell—a proto-Yuppie and the romantic rival of Nicholas Payne—as an enthusiast of bullfighting, McGuane continually defies simple categorization. He has remarked on the perilous misjudgment of juxtaposing any writer's oeuvre with Hemingway's, likening it to wielding a blunt instrument in a clumsy assault on the younger author. Instead, it is more fitting, and truer to the essence of his novels, to recognize, as Peter Straub observes, how McGuane "deliberately warps the famous Hemingway ethical codes," employing them "with a sense of irony and disbelief." In Ninety-Two in the Shade, in particular, McGuane eschews the notion of an untarnished machismo ideal, instead reveling in the fragile interplay of language and intellect, humor, and the clash of good manners with bad."