One detail that gets lost in the shuffle is how mankind has become less connected to nature. On some level, this is a significant conflict impacting environmental disasters and a general misunderstanding of an ecosystem. Other times, like in Michael Punke's historical fiction novel "The Revenant," one can be thankful that they weren't a fur trapper during the 19th century. With an unrepenting heart worthy of Jack London, the story explores the journey of Hugh Glass as he seeks revenge after being left for dead. What follows is a journey that is harrowing, full of amazing and bleak details that show a man fending for his life against the cruel nature of winter. While many of the passages blister with miserablist language, it's still a compelling look into history and a perfect cat and mouse game that reflects the pettiness of mankind and the efforts to right the most foolish of wrongs.
From the opening chapters, Glass is at odds with his world. While he's doing the mission to cover certain expenses, he runs into conflict of caring for his even greedier coworkers. They are eager to meet deadlines, not letting anything hold them back. When Glass is mauled by a bear, one of the other fur trappers is set with helping him heal, but decides to bury him alive, believing that he's pretty much dead. As most can guess, that's not how the story ends, and instead plays like a historical zombie narrative with Glass inaudibly muttering to himself as he uses his surroundings for survival. With his voice giving out and his body literally in tatters at times, it's a miracle that he reaches the final pages in any discernible fashion.
While this is a story predominantly about Glass surviving long enough to get revenge, there is something to be said with how Punke parallels the story with the man who left him. Because of perspective, his journey comes across as more vindictive and heartless, making every decision to evade guilt all the more impressive. The rumors of Glass are often more powerful than whatever physical prowess he's pulling out of his freezing hand. There's decay, a body that's withering under the pressures of nature. No man is meant to survive such terrible mauling, and yet here he was. He is the archetype that many think they are when stepping into nature. They believe that they can single-handedly defeat the toughest of forces, but Punke suggests: why would you want to?
It helps that there's enough emphasis on character to make everyone dimensional. This isn't just exploitation of how a human body can be beaten over time. It's a genuine journey full of interpersonal relationships and quests to find happiness. Glass has motivation for his survival that is endearing even as he postures in hyper-masculine stereotypes. There's a vulnerability that emphasizes how weak he is and how strong and majestic nature is. There's even emphasis on how indigenous people are in some ways greater than the fur traders that seek to destroy their land. So many small conflicts come into play here that by the time the story ends with a trial to determine the morality of these events, it feels like a satisfying conclusion. It's a narrative driven mostly by action and pure visceral emotion, but it does so with enough smarts and commentary to reflect something more compelling about this. It's not just torture of the body but in some ways of the soul. How do you escape these pains and find a solace in life?
"The Revenant" is a book that explores the cruel side of nature stories. Where many would be keen to romanticize and picture themselves living off the land, Punke is more interested in showing a crueler depiction. This is one that posits a lot of history between settlers and indigenous people as well as how humanity refusing to work together can keep true progress from being made. No man is capable of living this way by himself. There needs to be a solace, a security net, and sticking it in the middle of a cat and mouse game where bad weather is the greatest roadblock only emphasizes these themes more. It's a compelling experience that pits the reader into a unique position, both morbid observer and someone needing to find more compassion for nature's greatness. It's historical fiction at its finest, managing to feel more pulpy and compulsory than droll. That is Punke's greatest gift as a writer.
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