James Dickey (1923–1997)

Imagine, if you can, you're an American air force tail-gunner flying over enemy territory, Japan during WWII. Your plane is hit, on fire, and spirals toward the earth. All your crew-mates are dead. If not for the parachute you religiously taped to the bulkhead, you'd soon be a goner, too. Instead, you make it safely back to earth, where men belong anyway. What would you do now?
James Dickey gives us an account of one possibility through one of his strangest, and best creations, Muldrow, a man raised in the Alaskan wilderness of the 1920s and 30s, and appropriately named after an Alaskan glacier.
Early on in his predicament of being totally on his own in the land of the enemy, Muldrow makes his plan to head North. If he can make it to the White sea, to the beloved snow and ice of his childhood, he knows he can survive and feel the comfort and freedom of home again.
The story of his trek is one of dreams, camouflage, and savagery. For some, this tale may become a bit too gruesome to take. There were scenes I wouldn't want to revisit. But, if you have the stomach for it, Dickey's prose is as razor sharp as the bread knife Muldrow carries.

"'It's a bread knife,' I told him. 'The only difference is that I brought the point on down and fine. The edge is good, too. Kitchen steel is good steel. As good as you can get.'
'Look,' I said, bending the knife almost double. The light from the roof bulb curved, wires and all, into the light of the blade. 'That means it won't break off. It's not like one of these stiff issue blades, like a bayonet or a commando knife, that ain't got any give to it. This one will bend, it'll go around.'
'Go around what?'
'Go around anything, say, like a rib. It'll go around and come back. It'll straighten out on the other side and keep on going.'"

This passage leaves a little to the imagination, but the description of its actual use is not for the faint of heart. Ghastly is the word I'd use.
If you're a fan of [b:Deliverance|592657|Deliverance|James Dickey|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1624579180l/592657._SY75_.jpg|1257919], you'll probably get along fine with this book, though it is not nearly as tight and well written.
Dickey repeats himself often, and becomes long-winded, particularly when Mulder describes animals, birds, and landscapes. About three-quarters into the book, he says,
"I was discouraged, I don't mind telling you. If the other island (his destination) didn't show pretty soon, I would be too weak and played out to get to it."
That's the way I felt about half-way through. Come on, James, get me there already, I'm dragging here.
Dickey revisits themes he explored so beautifully in his poetry, especially the connection between men and animals, and the relationship of hunter and prey.
I go back to my question, "What would you do in this situation?"
I have ideas about what I MIGHT do, but I tend to believe there's no way for any of us to know unless we were there. I'm fairly certain though, that we'd all surprise ourselves of what we may have to become in order to survive.… (més)

I was introduced to Dickey when I was a 20 year old college student. Although he was difficult for me then, I have never forgotten my first reading of "The Heaven of Animals". It just blew me away, like how Emily Dickinson said how you know it's poetry when it blows off the top of your head. I've read all of his work now, including the novels, and must say he was one of our greatest American writers.
Just now I picked up this book and read "The Sprinter at Forty".

"And between the dark houses where men,/Grown suddenly light with amazement,/Cry out for their youth among nightmares/Of debt, and turn to their women./Like a choir, something rises about me..."

I understood the poem when I was in my 20s, but now in my 50s, I FEEL it within all of me.

It is rather late, and I should be asleep, but I think I'll read some more of this wonderful book to enhance my dreams.… (més)