R.M. Patterson
In October at a used bookstore in Boise I came across R.M. Patterson's Dangerous River. Patterson's a Canadian writer, rather obscure now, but his five books are still in print, fifty years after the first was published, and twenty some years after his death.
Patterson immigrated to Canada from England in the 1920s. He had attended Oxford, fought in World War I, spent nearly a year in a German prisoner of war camp, and then worked for a few years at the Bank of England. But a banker's life did not satisfy. He headed out to western Canada, homesteaded in northern Alberta, and after three break-in years headed up into the Northwest Territories, to trap and prospect for gold—riches, though, were a secondary goal; mostly he sought the adventure of a peripatetic outdoor life, running swollen northern rivers, snowshoeing trap lines in the winter, hunting moose and sheep, living off the land.
Dangerous River (1953), his first book, concentrates on that initial foray into the Northwest Territories, in the late 1920s. He and his partner made their way up the South Nahanni River to a place called Deadman's Valley. They built a cabin and settled in, quite happily. They never did find much gold, but Patterson doesn't seem the least bit disappointed. He hunted for their table and poked about after gold, but enjoyed above all simply exploring the valley and the various drainages that emptied into the South Nahanni.
Dangerous River is considered the best of Patterson's five books. In part I think because it's a coherent, limited narrative, focused on the trip up the river, the time in Deadman's Valley. His next two books—The Buffalo Head (1961) and Far Pastures (1963)—are more episodic. Enjoyable still, but not as compelling. The Buffalo Head includes a short section on his life in England and his war experience; mostly, though, it recounts his life on his cattle and dude ranch, in the Rocky Mountains of southwest Alberta, during the 1930s and 1940s. Far Pastures is mostly a collection of pieces he published in magazines, and covers his various adventures between 1924 and 1955. (His two other books are Trail to the Interior (1966) and Finlay's River (1968).)
I'd been looking for Patterson's books for years, after hearing a talk about him in Vancouver at a conference. I wasn't going out of my way, but I did look for his name in the nature or travel sections of used bookstores. So I was pretty excited when I finally came upon Dangerous River in Boise (though the cover was disappointing—giant, bad font; lame design: an eighties edition). I love well-written stories of backcountry travel in the great north (books like Shadows on the Koyukuk by Sidney Huntington, Alaska Wilderness by Robert Marshall, and Drop City, by T.C. Boyle). I'm not sure that I would actually enjoy a year in the bush (a couple weeks definitely), but still, I'm intrigued by that way of living—and maybe in some way I actually do wish I had the gumption or wherewithal to give it a try. But I'm not really too disappointed in myself; more, I'm impressed and interested in those who do camp out in forty below, shoot and butcher a moose, build a cabin. Even if I don't emigrate to northern Canada, his books do inspire me to get out, to go for a morning's walk along the St. Croix River, or, more ambitiously, to plan for a trip of a week or a month. Patterson sought out, cultivated intense experience, and that's something we can have in common.
Another part of Patterson's work that I find interesting is the fact that he wrote his books so long after the adventures he describes took place. The act of composition is at odds with the way of living he describes—so he can only write his books after he's given up homesteading and trapping and exploring. A book about adventure and travel is inevitably ironic, an object and accomplishment that is sedentary and contemplative. Wilfred Thesiger, who spent most of his life traveling throughout the Middle East and Central Asia (usually by camel or on foot), had to pause occasionally for a year or two at a time to write his books (Arabian Sands and The Marsh Arabs are excellent). He seemed to resent the interruption. I imagine there have been many adventurous people who have simply decided, no, I'm not going to write a book; I have better things to do. I can respect that decision, but as a reader I'm glad some decide to go ahead and have their say.
After I read Dangerous River, I lost all patience with the long used bookstore search. I ordered his other books (published by a small Canadian press) and am now in the midst of full Patterson story, no more waiting.
(Here's a description of breakfast on a typical morning on the South Nahanni: "porridge, sheep liver and bacon, bannock, butter, marmalade and tea, topped off with a bowl of raspberries and cream." The porridge "was no invalid dish": it "consisted of a mixture of rolled oats and whole wheat... a little salt, a large pat of butter and a handful of seedless raisins. The finished product was served in a large bowl: on top of the porridge a thin slice of cheese was spread, and the dish was topped with a pouring of dried milk to the consistency of cream and a liberal sprinkling of brown sugar." Slice of cheese?)
posted by Capper @ 8:46 AM
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