10 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Like Coming Into the Country Part 2, July 22, 2006
It seems that ever since John McPhee's Coming into the Country came out in the seventies, all stories of living in the Alaskan wilderness are compared to it. This book in many ways revisits that book and lets you know what happened to the self sufficient trappers and homesteaders that McPhee met in the seventies. And apparently they are gone.
Much like McPhee, this book paints pictures of the upper reaches of the Yukon River and it's people with words. The author splices anecdotes and histories to the people and places he passes on the river and brings you along for the trip and the politics that have created the situation on the river today.
This book can definitely stand on it's own, but I suggest reading Coming Into the Country first, if nothing else than for the fact that you will be struck by the differences created by thirty years and some legislation. I hate to keep going back to McPhee's book to review this one, but if that book is a modern classic, than this one deserves the same billing. Great reading.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No
11 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
The Yukon: Lonesome Except for the Ghosts, September 10, 2006
Dan O'Neill drops his canoe into the Yukon River near Dawson City (Canada) and paddles downriver in search of the Alaskan homesteader and the subsistence lifestyle familiar to many from John McPhee's book, "Coming Into the Country."
O'Neill's book is meant as both an update and a rebuke to McPhee and his fans. Most emphatically, O'Neill documents the decay and disappearance of the trappers that McPhee wrote about. Outside a few tiny villages, there is no longer a single family inhabiting the whole area O'Neill surveys on a year-round basis. He visits cabin after decaying abandoned cabin, musing on the complicity of the National Park Service in eliminating a culture that, from O'Neill's perspective, was worth preserving.
I expect there are a lot of Alaskans that share O'Neill's disappointment. And he does an excellent job communicating it - he's a first-rate journalist. Some parts of the story are downright lyrical; others are first-rate news reporting.
The narrative thread of his canoe journey from time to time gets buried behind his urge to fuss at the authorities setting policy in the area. The book gets increasingly episodic and disjointed the further downstream he gets. However, for fans of McPhee's book, and for fans of Alaska in general, a worthy addition to the literature.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No
9 of 10 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
The Depopulation of the Upper Yukon Watershed, December 26, 2006
Dan O'Neill is an adventurer, a historian, a "floater" (as Yukon River canoe campers are called), and an advocate for a people whose names may be last seen in these pages. This book is ostensibly a story about a float trip O'Neill makes from Dawson, in Canada's Yukon Territory, to Circle, in Alaska, through the Yukon Charley Rivers National Preserve, administered by the National Parks Service. Actually, it is seven trips condensed into one. O'Neill is the spiritual descendant of John McPhee, whom he quotes extensively as the base-line Yukon River interpreter. The reader may be forgiven if he believes that he will be treated to a combination of float trip travelogue and history of the places and people who make the country what it is. Little by little we learn that O'Neill wants to do more than report; he intends to make a statement and to leave an impact.
O'Neill makes (and re-makes) a compelling case that the National Parks Service is egregiously mismanaging the wilderness it is supposed to be protecting. The NPS faces the same conflict in the Yukon Charley Rivers National Preserve that it has in other national parks. How do you preserve a natural area for people to enjoy in perpetuity when each person who visits incrementally damages the area? O'Neill argues that the Yukon Charley Rivers National Preserve differs so radically from the nation's other parks that it requires fresh thinking and a more tailored conservation regime. The lament implicit in the title is that this dramatically attractive land, inhospitable as it is, once was home to scores of rugged, subsistence pioneers, and could safely be so again under a more creative land use policy.
The enduring legacy of Dan O'Neill's book will not be his administrative prescriptions, though, but his deft, economical, and often sardonic descriptions of the land and its people. We learn a great deal about the geologic history of the region, including the fact that prior to the last ice age, the river ran southward, opposite its current direction. We learn where the gold-bearing strata are located and how they were exploited during the gold rush. We trap martin and lynx, and catch king salmon to feed ourselves and chum salmon to feed our dogs, We meet characters that couldn't conceivably be made up, like Dick Cook, whom we admire for his resourcefulness and indomitable spirit, and whose body we last see face down in the river that supported him. We poke through trash middens in a sort of contemporary archaeology, and learn how to handle irascible settlers and even more irascible grizzlies.
O'Neill treats us to a world which few of us are likely ever to see. "Moose, wolf, and bear have signed the mud registry in recent weeks, and I make my own prints, climb the bank, and look for a trail..." He faithfully reports and interprets his observations and gently constructs his arguments. Regrettably, however, he is not a gifted writer, and this deficiency occasionally shows, as in his purple descriptions of scenery. "The river is molten gold...the sky is a dazzling, luminous yellow where fiery clouds flash gilded edges...then I remember that the whole spinning world is a miracle, and that sometimes reality dawns more golden than dreams." And then there is the occasional error that an editor should have caught, "Sudden death killed forty-four of the fifty-five Alaskans who died in boating accidents between 2001 and 2003..." The reader may well wonder how death can be the cause of death.
I recommend "A Land Gone Lonesome" to armchair "floaters" and all who are curious about the forced depopulation of the upper Yukon watershed. You will meet the colorful denizens of a world just recently past, and the remarkable stage they have exited. And if you become motivated to visit the Yukon for yourself, you can thank McPhee and O'Neill for their contrasting depictions of the Yukon River and its fatal attraction.
Help other customers find the most helpful reviews
Was this review helpful to you? Yes
No