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Coming into the Country is an unforgettable account of Alaska and Alaskans. It is a rich tapestry of vivid characters, observed landscapes, and descriptive narrative, in three principal segments that deal, respectively, with a total wilderness, with urban Alaska, and with life in the remoteness of the bush. Readers of McPhee's earlier books will not be unprepared for his surprising shifts of scene and ordering of events, brilliantly combined into an organic whole. In the course of this volume we are made acquainted with the lore and techniques of placer mining, the habits and legends of the barren-ground grizzly, the outlook of a young Athapaskan chief, and tales of the fortitude of settlers-ordinary people compelled by extraordinary dreams. Coming into the Country unites a vast region of America with one of America's notable literary craftsmen, singularly qualified to do justice to the scale and grandeur of the design.… (more)
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It might be assumed that a book that, among other things, discusses current events from the 1970s would be terribly dated to a reader of today but that simply isn't the case. Yes, we know how the drive to move the capital away from Juneau turned out and we know at least some of the impact of the oil pipeline, but what makes this book so interesting are the mindsets of the people that he illustrates so well. McPhee has a real gift for presenting both sides of a conflict such that the reader can appreciate both, even when McPhee flat out tells you how he feels about it.
This is highly recommended: whether you simply want to learn more about Alaska or want to vicariously experience life hundreds of miles from the next human being where 20 below zero is considered shirt-sleeve weather.
Coming to the Country is a dated today, but McPhee is a great writer, and this book is a decent introduction.
Mc Phee has a languid and conversational writing style that I always enjoy reading and this book is no exception. While the action of the 1970s is, for obvious reasons, dated, the fact that so many of the issues are still a part of Alaska, US and global current events speaks volumes.
McPhee does this primarily by treating you to a guided tour of the quirky inhabitants both human and wild (not that there seems much distinction between the two much of the time.) People in the bush, particularly in Upper Yukon, refer to their part of Alaska as "the country." Strangers appearing are "said to have come into the country." And few Alaskans he tells us about are natives, but once were those strangers. The title essay takes up well over half of the book and focuses on the people of the Upper Yukon and especially those around Eagle Town (largely white) and Eagle Village (largely Native American.) Most of the people he features are trappers or miners. And surrounding them are salmon, grayling, grizzly, moose--and what a friend of mine once told me is the Alaskan state bird--the mosquito. (McPhee tells how one time he slapped his leg and counted 17 dead mosquitoes on his palm).
In an interview of Sebastian Junger, author of The Perfect Storm, he said that John McPhee is "a god... he's a master of that detail... of explaining how things worked... of making the world an interesting place." Coming from one of my favorite authors, that was high-praise--as it turns out deserved. What I noted right away is that McPhee has style. It may not be to everyone's liking, but it's there. There's a rhythm to his prose, a way of writing shapely phrases, and a lyricism probably helped along by two-thirds of this book being written first person, present tense. He often bounces between stories and personalities in a very meandering way. There are at times these free-floating quotations, like a chorus, giving you different sides. So this above all is literary journalism. It's also good journalism. Not only in the sense that it's lively and informative, but even though McPhee makes no bones about having his own opinion: he's also fair. Other views get to be aired too. Sometimes eccentric, very idiosyncratic views, but not ones simply straw-men chosen to show up the ridiculousness of the disfavored side.
The book writes of a way of life more exotic to me, a Native New Yorker, than Beijing or Johannesburg. I find the lifestyle described more horrific than idyllic to be honest, not being one to rhapsodize nature--but it certainly was fascinating to read about in McPhee's hands. Even though this book is already decades old, I left feeling it I much better understood the state that's America's last frontier.