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Through the Brazilian Wilderness

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Theodore Roosevelt was a man's man. A New York kid whose taste for adventure was sparked in his boyhood by a dead seal for sale on a Broadway sidewalk. Harvard student, soldier, Rough Rider, youngest President ever and one who survived the assassin's bullet, maverick politician, Nobel Prize winner, hunter and conservationist, and finally the man who, at 55 years old, explored an unknown region of the Amazon river basin. Imagine one of today's former-Presidents undertaking a similar adventure. For six weeks, in 1914, Roosevelt and his party paddled and carried their canoes down a previously unexplored 950-mile river now called the Rio Roosevelt. Men died, boats were lost, food became scarce, dangerous animals and natives were about, fever borne by insects sickened many in the party (and led to Roosevelt's own death five years later). This is the stuff of "Through the Brazilian Wilderness".

Roosevelt's other works, including "The Rough Riders", are better known, and this one is not great literature. Instead, it is a remarkable adventure story by an interesting man. The book is essentially Roosevelt's trip diary, colored by his great enthusiasm for adventure and the natural world. Even before reaching the Amazon, Roosevelt stops at a Brazilian snake research lab that so captures his attention that he writes seventeen pages about it. At all times, he makes careful note of the wildlife he encounters, not quite with the depth of a professional scientist, but with the trained eye of a dedicated and experienced hobbyist. He squeezes in some amusing stories about piranha fish that he heard --and apparently believed. Naturalists of the day killed animals in the name of science, which places in context Roosevelt's joy in hunting and his comments: first on alligators ("They are often dangerous and are always destructive to fish, and it is good to shoot them") and later on conservation ("There is every reason why the good people of South America should waken... to the duty of preserving from extinction the wildlife which is an asset of such interest."). The book is most poetic in its description of animal life, and particularly in registering surprise that the myriad insects are far more pernicious than any of the better-known dangers such as alligators, big cats, or piranhas.

The book's is not perfect, and Roosevelt is not a great author in a literary sense, rather making up in enthusiasm what he lacks in prose and penetrating insight. There is no attempt at political analysis, he simply praises Brazilians as good hosts who have started down the road to democracy. He sees the land he travels through as like the United States of perhaps a hundred years earlier, so there are frequent predictions that a promising location is ripe for development. The limited foray into politics is to praise Positivism, the ideology of the Brazilian military class that emphasized modernity and structure, and that not incidentally justified the many instances of military intervention in Brazilian politics over the years. Finally, the one annoyance is the recurring theme (perhaps a dozen times in all) of the true danger of the journey. Over and over we read that the river has never been charted, that it is truly dangerous, that the explorers are not your armchair-adventurer variety, and that such voyages will necessarily be easier for those who follow in the future. We get that.

Roosevelt was an interesting man, his enthusiasm and taste for adventure are infectious. The book is not a literary triumph, but it is a fun read and an excellent journey through the Amazon

As those familiar with his history know, Theodore Roosevelt was truly a unique, gifted and accomplished person. He was naturalist, historian, big game hunter, politician, statesman, conservationist and recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize rolled into one. If he had followed the interests and predilictions of his youth, he would have grown up to be a naturalist rather than President of the United States. As a boy he had a vast collection of frogs, squirrels, snakes, birds, insects that he called the Roosevelt Museum of Natural History.

Science's loss was politics gain. However, T.R. never lost his interest in nature. Following his presidency, he set out on an expedition to explore and map unknown regions of Paraguay and Brazil on the 950-mile River of Doubt, a previously unexplored tributary of the Amazon River. The scientific endeavor became an ordeal to test the expedition's courage and stamina as it faced overpowering heat, dangerous rapids, wild animals, devouring ants, endless insects, fever, dysentery and more. The expedition collected thousands of species of birds and mammals, but Roosevelt would die a few years after completing the expedition. Roosevelt admired those who lived life with passion and for what he called "the Great Adventure." This story chronicles one of T.R.'s last great adventures in his typical inimitable style.

teddy is truly a remarkable person. in character. intellect. and in writing skills/ the book is truly remarkable. however i am com pelled to note to prospective readers that it is severly over written. by this i mean that his inspirational depiction
of the experience wears on me in the repetitious depiction of flora and fauna as well as the multiplicity of dangerous rapid water transit. i was also struck with many omissions an exa ple of which is that there were repeated notations of severe limits on baggage listing what they were limited to but never mentioning hundreds of the specimens that had been collected. i would have enjoyed much more were it half the length or even less. obviously i was reading this recreationally and it seemed more of a doctoral thesis.

TR's account of his expedition to explore the River of Doubt shows a lot of the reasons we still admire him. First, he was a serious scientist. He was dedicated to discovering new species of wildlife (and could rattle off their Latin names with the best of them), mapping unknown stretches of river, and observing the ways of foreign lands. We know TR as a physical character and often forget what a highly intelligent man he was.

Second, his writing is greatly under-appreciated. He doesn't breeze over his descriptions of wildlife or the landscape--it's pretty technical stuff--but he does it clearly and concisely. As someone who has labored through countless pedantic textbooks, I took comfort in his words, "Ability to write well, if the writer had nothing to write about, entitles him to mere derision. But the greatest thought is robbed of an immense proportion of its value if expressed in a mean or obscure manner."

Third, despite the above, he could still endure enormous physical hardship at an old age. Battling rapids, hauling canoes, fighting disease, and hunting game, TR had the combination of brawn and intelligence that's seriously lacking in our leaders today, especially the lightweight that now sits behind TR's desk.

This book is also a great window into a time and place forever lost to history. TR's writing projects a clear photo in your mind of undiscovered wilderness and great adventure.

T.R. was writing was very gradiloquent, and this book really gives readers a good example of this. Read about the journey that ended with T.R. having a river named after him (Rio Duvida renamed to the current Rio Roosevelt), and gave him the sickness that would eventually lead to his death less than five years later.

At the outset let me say I consider this a companion book to "River of Doubt" by Candice Millard. I read Millard's book first, which was of course written over 90 years after Theodore Roosevelt made his famous South American journey and published his own book about the trip. I could just as easily have read Roosevelt's book first I believe and can see advantages to each way. The main point is that you read both books as they are worth it. You will get a perspective not obtainable be reading only one.

As a student of Roosevelt I know what had happened to the man before this journey. He had just undergone a grueling and unsuccessful fight for the White House as a third party candidate, becoming the only such candidate to ever come in second. The campaign took its toll emotionally and physically. He wanted a diversion, and when the opportunity to go on a trip to South America was presented he jumped at it. Always looking for an adventure it was, he said, his last chance to be a boy again.

When you read Roosevelt you become entwined in his diverse world. To an extent not common then or now, he is many things at the same time, each complimenting the other. Some would say he was a dichotomy of immense proportions. He is after all, the only person in history to receive both the Nobel Peace Prize (back when it meant something) and the Congressional Medal of Honor. Man of war, man of peace. As a writer of scientific subjects, whether it is ornithology, cartography, geography, anthropology or biology, he writes casually with a depth of knowledge that is remarkable. At the same time he can make these subjects understandable to an average reader. This talent is fully on display in this book. If some are revolted at his descriptions of his hunting exploits, just remember he was also the world's greatest conservationist.

I get the impression that TR tried to make the best of this trip but did not enjoy it nearly as much as his Africa trip in 1909. The challenges in South America were so daunting it is no wonder the expedition was relieved beyond words when they finally emerged out of the jungle. Roosevelt describes how he, his son Kermit, the joint Brazilian commander Col. Rondon and the others, endured constant portages around rapids, the dangerous fish eager to take a bite out of anyone in the water, the horrible and myriad insects that devoured anything and everything and bit and stung mercilessly. A certain wasp, for example, was so aggressive, huge and vicious, its sting being as dangerous as a viper or scorpion that one man was stung and was near death for a week, and in constant agony. Giant ants or termites would eat whole pieces of clothing in one night. When the men brushed up against a tree, viscous fire ants would attack them, attaching themselves to the victim with their powerful jaws, then thrusting their poisonous stinger into the men's flesh repeatedly until they were brushed off. Huge flies would land on their backs and thrust their eggs into their flesh, soon developing into maggots that would live under the skin until they were cut out with a knife. The conditions were so stressful that one man cracked and became a murderer. Accidents were common, even resulting in the drowning death of one of the best men. The food supply became low and kept getting lower and the men did not know how much longer it would be before they emerged from the jungle, or if they would ever get out alive.

In the end though, they became the first men of the outside world to explore this particular, previously unknown river. To honor the ex-President it was named Rio Roosevelt by the Brazilian government and that remains its name today. Roosevelt gushes with the honor, and with the knowledge that the expedition was a complete success.

I also, as a student of Roosevelt, know what happened to him after this adventure. He contracted a wound while helping with the canoes in a portage. This developed into an infection and then a fever that so weakened his system that he would never fully recover. He would die, worn out and in recurring sickness, in less than five years.

I hate to admit it, but Millard's book is probably more readable for today's readers. She is one of the best of the National Geographic writers, and this story was made for her. But no self-respecting student of Theodore Roosevelt can possible resist "Through the Brazilian Wilderness" after first reading Millard's excellent work. Stick with it and you will have the true flavor of this, Roosevelt's last adventure.

In the last year (2011), as Millard's book seems to have hit the book clubs in full force, several readers have asked me if I've read RIVER OF DOUBT. I haven't. Not once have I snootily answered, "Have YOU read THROUGH THE BRAZILIAN WILDERNESS?" I have, several times, and every year I reread the chapters "The River of Doubt" and "Down an Unknown River . . ."

Roosevelt can be a plodding writer, but he is one whose personality drives the reader's interest as much as the situations into which the author plunges himself. No writer displays his bias as frequently or prominently as TR: take this example about the lawless (my unfair summary) rubber-men (p. 332 of my edition): "They have merely a squatter's right to the land, and are always in danger of being ousted by unscrupulous big men who come in late, but with a title technically straight." If TR's ancestors had taken the patroon's side in the anti-rent wars, surely TR has gone over to the other side here. But I don't think the problem is TR's philosophy of history: it's an unexamined bias towards those with whom he has direct and favorable contact: the first rubber-men TR ran into on the river represented the first real hope in a month that he would not die in Brazil. In an outpouring of expansionist gratitude he says "These are real pioneer settlers"--a very high compliment coming from TR.

I don't read TBW as a full and completely factual account, but as TR's impressions of a journey. I haven't researched TR's or Rondon's papers, so I don't know how to judge discrepancies. But one at least of the following is a fantasy writer:

Millard, TIME: "One night a coral snake slithered from under a fallen tree and sank its fangs into Roosevelt's foot. But for his thick leather boots, he would have died an agonizing death." (time.com)

TR: "One of the men almost stepped on a poisonous coral-snake, which would have been a serious thing, as his feet were bare. But I had on stout shoes, and the fangs of these serpents--unlike those of the pit-vipers--are too short to penetrate good leather. I promptly put my foot on him, and he bit my shoe with harmless venom." (p. 255.)

Maybe there were two different snakes. If not, at least one author has woefully distorted this encounter. But even allowing for TR's bravado (which sadly among lesser writers always seems to evoke the adjective "bully") his account rings a little truer since he was making the overall point that the insects were far more noxious than the reptiles (a major theme in the two chapters named above). Perhaps Millard has never been annoyed by insects or bitten by a snake (I can hardly believe this true of a National Geographic writer, but it may be so) and so has no comparative experience. Fortunately, I have no experience with venomous snakes either (or with writing for National Geographic). As for other "slitherins," I've been nearly blinded by an allergic reaction to a hognose, awed by the nobility ("Anthropomorphism!"--guilty) of a common blacksnake, and annoyed by the viciousness of water snakes (all these the species you find on the Eastern Shore of Maryland). But none of these drove me nuts the way a cloud of New Hampshire mosquitoes or black-flies does. And they weren't eating my clothes, as the insects were TR's.

TR made a point (even in TBW) about how to write natural history. He also wrote about Nature Fakers. Maybe his ghost--or the ghost of John Burroughs--will come back and write a comparative review of the two books. Meanwhile, I'll keep re-reading TBW until somebody gives me a free copy of Millard.