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Chosen Country
An extraordinary inside look at America’s militia movement that shows a country at the crossroads of class, culture, and insurrection.
In a remote corner of Oregon, James Pogue found himself at the heart of a rebellion. Granted unmatched access by Ammon Bundy to the armed occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, Pogue met ranchers ready to die fighting the federal government.
He witnessed the fallout of communities riven by politics and the danger (and allure) of unyielding belief. The occupation ended in the shooting death of one rancher, the imprisonment of dozens more, and a firestorm over the role of government that engulfed national headlines.
In a raw and restless narrative that roams the same wild terrain as his literary forebears Edward Abbey and Hunter S. Thompson, Pogue examines the underpinnings of this rural resistance and struggles to reconcile his sympathies with his reservations, tracing a cultural fault line that spans the nation.
In a remote corner of Oregon, James Pogue found himself at the heart of a rebellion. Granted unmatched access by Ammon Bundy to the armed occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, Pogue met ranchers ready to die fighting the federal government.
He witnessed the fallout of communities riven by politics and the danger (and allure) of unyielding belief. The occupation ended in the shooting death of one rancher, the imprisonment of dozens more, and a firestorm over the role of government that engulfed national headlines.
In a raw and restless narrative that roams the same wild terrain as his literary forebears Edward Abbey and Hunter S. Thompson, Pogue examines the underpinnings of this rural resistance and struggles to reconcile his sympathies with his reservations, tracing a cultural fault line that spans the nation.
304 pages, Hardcover
First published March 22, 2018
About the author
James Pogue
4 books5 followersJames Pogue has written for The New Yorker, The New York Times Magazine, Granta, the New Republic, and Vice, where he is a contributing editor. His work has been anthologized in n+1’s City by City. He lives in New Mexico. Chosen Country is his first book.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews
March 6, 2018
This is a difficult book for me to rate, there's a lot of good information here from the viewpoint of one reporter who was able to be on the inside during much of the 2016 occupation of the Malheur Refuge in SE Oregon. Please also note that my reading experience is based on an advanced copy, and not a finished edition. It's clear at the back from the blank Epilogue and Acknowledgement pages that things will change. More on things I'd like to see changed/corrected below, and apologies for the tl;dr review.
Full disclosure: I have followed this story almost from the first day of the occupation, with a great shout out and thank you to the Oregon media who covered it so well and in such great detail (and oh, those commenters at O-Live - those were the days!). I may not be an expert on every nuance and detail, but I'm coming into this book with more info in my head than the casual reader. It was a fun (at times) trip down memory lane with the original 'cast-of-characters' (had a good chuckle at the author's impressions of the Anderson pair). That said, here are my rambling thoughts and observations:
I did like the author's inside take on things, as I've noted above, but that said - there's too much time spent rambling on about drugs and drugs and more drugs and drinking and cigarettes and F-bombs dropped. Secondly, there are far too many long sentences with too many commas - break the sentences down or use a semicolon.
I also take issue with a couple of sentences in the blurb that makes it sound like the lot of the occupiers were ranchers. I beg to differ - only one of the lot actually owned a cattle ranch and worked cattle on it, and that was LaVoy Finicum. Ammon and Ryan Bundy might be the son of awelfare rancher, but they are not ranchers themselves. Ammon owns a fleet service in Arizona and lives in Idaho on a lot with a small apple orchard. Even if the orchard is large enough to produce apples for the market, that would make him a farmer. Ryan Bundy I believe has dabbled in construction between his efforts at civil disobedience and according to his wife's blog, he does work the family's melon farm = which would make him a farmer and not a rancher since he's not working the cattle? Jason Patrick was a contractor in Georgia, and Ritzheimer is a self-professed city boy. This isn't the first time I've seen a publisher go off a bit on facts in a blurb, and I do realize that an author doesn't have much control over it, but it is still something that needs to be pointed out. So much of the main stream media has characterized these militia members as ranchers and it's just not true.
Despite the short chapters that bounced from Malheur to prior events like Bunkerville and the Sugar Pine Mine and all, I did appreciate the author's close at hand observations on the militia folks and giving the reader some background on those events prior to Malheur, I then hit a few head-scratching moments:
"The family has been ranching in what would become Clark County since 1877, when they descended the Virgin River gorge from Utah to Nevada, in a secondary wave of Mormon settlement."
And:
"The family homesteaded on 160 deeded acres and developed their own breed of cattle, good for the desert - tough little humpbacked Brahman cows with gorgeous coloration that looks uncannily like polished tiger's-eye stone. And after the Grazing Service came into existence, in 1932, they claimed the grazing rights on three hundred thousand acres of the Gold Butte allotment."
This book is not finalized, and I would encourage the author and publishers to Google a bit and not take the Bundy family version as gospel. Yes, there were Bundys in that section of Nevada in the late 1800s, but that was a large brood of families with multiple wives and lots and lots of children. I don't recall the specifics (please contact JJ MacNab on Twitter, she's the expert on the Bundy history), but the clan left that area, I believe going to Mexico and eventually Oregon. There are articles on the internet that discuss the property records of that 160 acre parcel, when it was purchased, and by whom. Since this review is going on too long I won't go into great detail except to say official records and dates to not jive with the Bundy version and all easily found on the internet.
The author did a good job explaining how the federal land and grazing allotments work, but at the same time (unless I missed it), he didn't mention how those are subsidized by the federal government and how much more they'd have to pay for those grazing lands on privately owned lands like they are in the Midwest and elsewhere.
Is this worth reading in the end? For me yes, despite the quibbles listed above. For the casual reader who only followed the story via main stream media and not familiar with the finer details, I suspect might be lost, especially without a concise list of names and roles. Perhaps that is planned for the final edition (if not, I would strongly recommend it).
Advanced reader copy via Amazon Vine program.
Full disclosure: I have followed this story almost from the first day of the occupation, with a great shout out and thank you to the Oregon media who covered it so well and in such great detail (and oh, those commenters at O-Live - those were the days!). I may not be an expert on every nuance and detail, but I'm coming into this book with more info in my head than the casual reader. It was a fun (at times) trip down memory lane with the original 'cast-of-characters' (had a good chuckle at the author's impressions of the Anderson pair). That said, here are my rambling thoughts and observations:
I did like the author's inside take on things, as I've noted above, but that said - there's too much time spent rambling on about drugs and drugs and more drugs and drinking and cigarettes and F-bombs dropped. Secondly, there are far too many long sentences with too many commas - break the sentences down or use a semicolon.
I also take issue with a couple of sentences in the blurb that makes it sound like the lot of the occupiers were ranchers. I beg to differ - only one of the lot actually owned a cattle ranch and worked cattle on it, and that was LaVoy Finicum. Ammon and Ryan Bundy might be the son of a
Despite the short chapters that bounced from Malheur to prior events like Bunkerville and the Sugar Pine Mine and all, I did appreciate the author's close at hand observations on the militia folks and giving the reader some background on those events prior to Malheur, I then hit a few head-scratching moments:
"The family has been ranching in what would become Clark County since 1877, when they descended the Virgin River gorge from Utah to Nevada, in a secondary wave of Mormon settlement."
And:
"The family homesteaded on 160 deeded acres and developed their own breed of cattle, good for the desert - tough little humpbacked Brahman cows with gorgeous coloration that looks uncannily like polished tiger's-eye stone. And after the Grazing Service came into existence, in 1932, they claimed the grazing rights on three hundred thousand acres of the Gold Butte allotment."
This book is not finalized, and I would encourage the author and publishers to Google a bit and not take the Bundy family version as gospel. Yes, there were Bundys in that section of Nevada in the late 1800s, but that was a large brood of families with multiple wives and lots and lots of children. I don't recall the specifics (please contact JJ MacNab on Twitter, she's the expert on the Bundy history), but the clan left that area, I believe going to Mexico and eventually Oregon. There are articles on the internet that discuss the property records of that 160 acre parcel, when it was purchased, and by whom. Since this review is going on too long I won't go into great detail except to say official records and dates to not jive with the Bundy version and all easily found on the internet.
The author did a good job explaining how the federal land and grazing allotments work, but at the same time (unless I missed it), he didn't mention how those are subsidized by the federal government and how much more they'd have to pay for those grazing lands on privately owned lands like they are in the Midwest and elsewhere.
Is this worth reading in the end? For me yes, despite the quibbles listed above. For the casual reader who only followed the story via main stream media and not familiar with the finer details, I suspect might be lost, especially without a concise list of names and roles. Perhaps that is planned for the final edition (if not, I would strongly recommend it).
Advanced reader copy via Amazon Vine program.
August 11, 2018
I'm giving Chosen Country a 5, not because it rises to great literature, provides profound political analysis or will appeal to wide American readership. Portions of the author's reporting appeared in national media, and other journalists in Oregon and High Country News provided nuanced coverage of the takeover of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge.
James Pogue's account is valuable read straight through, mixed with his personal story of becoming embedded with the protestors and his efforts to remain both objective and empathetic. Most important, Chosen Country treats the occupation not as an isolated circus but as a precursor to the present wave in national politics exemplified by Trumpism and white nationalism.
As a western Colorado native whose own writing and study intersects with the Bundy world, I found it a compelling read.
In following the Bundy story and related small rebellions in the Great Basin, Pogue seems to have caught the wave almost by accident. Though he was able to land reporting assignments, they were barely enough to support a back-of-the-pickup gonzo lifestyle. The Malheur takeover was initially seen nationally as an isolated nut-job protest, hardly worth sending a first-string reporter to cover. And much of the coverage did confirm to non-westerners that the refuge was populated by kooks and gun fanatics, fringe characters whose time and passed or never arrived.
Pogue makes them human, often thoughtful and sometimes appealing to a 20-something part-time New York journalist, left-winger and drug abuser who longs for connection but does a poor job of committing to other people. As such, he serves as a contrast to the predominantly Mormon and ex-military types who formed the core around Ammon Bundy, the leader of the takeover.
Ammon emerges as a charismatic and canny figure who, in the Mormon patriarchal tradition, takes his direction only from God. Or at least, acts as God would have him do. He represents his freedom tribe's limitations as well. When the individual is the moral and ethical center of his universe, its morals and ethics are only as unflawed as the man himself.
There's an easy argument to made that the Bundys are selfish, messianic, cartoon cowboys. But Pogue does a good job of getting beyond the stereotypes. He exposes the appeal of their libertarian, individualist message and its potential to become a nationalistic movement that was also anti-government—the now installed in the White House.
Pogue skeptically views their beliefs about sovereign individuality—a teen age boy's notion of freedom—but also empathizes with their love of brotherhood, family, jacked-up 4X4s, firearms and open country. He also insightfully debunks some of the left's critiques of the new Sagebrush Rebellion as ultimately subject to the superior firepower of the US Government... The same firepower that has failed to suppress insurgencies in Vietnam, the Middle East and Afghanistan.
"Armed politics functions as a demonstration of conviction, a statement that some group believes so strongly in a cause that they're willing to go to prison, kill, or die for it." Pogue summons his exposure to the Irish resistance and says: "[T]he currency of insurgencies isn't political power or popular support... Their currency is death... [W]hen a believer dies at the hands of the state, it's the highest proof possible of the conviction that drove him to be willing to die in the first place."
Open warfare and decisive battles are not how resistance movements work, he argues. Anger over martyrdoms incubates slowly and deepens commitment to the struggle.
The Bundy's genius or good luck linked their movement, which could otherwise have looked like a white supremacist militia, to Patriotism and the ranching way of life.
This "provided the movement a moral urgency it had lacked before, and also provided a neat trick for cryptoracists and white identity types... The Bundys took a picturesque, iconic version of an American way of life and made the argument it was the purest representation of the way of life the Constitution, and God, had set down to follow. Patriot groups [and anti-Sharia Republicans in state legislatures] learned that you could preach cultural nationalism without ever really talking about anything but the Constitution."
Some readers may object to Pogue's insertion of his womanizing and substance abuse into the story, but it adds to its complexity and gives credibility to the movement's power. Why was this alien presence welcomed into the group? Was he just being used or was he seen as an empathetic and open soul who would give their position a fair portrayal, despite being close to their polar opposite in other ways? If Bundy can halfway suck in Pogue, it's impossible to explain away his appeal as being limited to the unsophisticated and unthinking. In fact, a number of Bundy's followers do spend time pondering the meaning of their commitment. But most of them miss how they are being used by economic and political interests far beyond their human concerns.
Pogue put himself at risk to listen and try to understand the point of view of the resistance, and to a great extent, he helps the reader to a greater appreciation of the forces at work. But after describing a final meeting with Ammon Bundy when he is in jail, Pogue concludes on a note of failure.
"[T]here's a point when trying too hard to listen to someone who has no plan on listening back stops feeling like a search for understanding, and starts to feel like surrender." He adds, unnecessarily for this readerm at least, "We're all learning this now."
James Pogue's account is valuable read straight through, mixed with his personal story of becoming embedded with the protestors and his efforts to remain both objective and empathetic. Most important, Chosen Country treats the occupation not as an isolated circus but as a precursor to the present wave in national politics exemplified by Trumpism and white nationalism.
As a western Colorado native whose own writing and study intersects with the Bundy world, I found it a compelling read.
In following the Bundy story and related small rebellions in the Great Basin, Pogue seems to have caught the wave almost by accident. Though he was able to land reporting assignments, they were barely enough to support a back-of-the-pickup gonzo lifestyle. The Malheur takeover was initially seen nationally as an isolated nut-job protest, hardly worth sending a first-string reporter to cover. And much of the coverage did confirm to non-westerners that the refuge was populated by kooks and gun fanatics, fringe characters whose time and passed or never arrived.
Pogue makes them human, often thoughtful and sometimes appealing to a 20-something part-time New York journalist, left-winger and drug abuser who longs for connection but does a poor job of committing to other people. As such, he serves as a contrast to the predominantly Mormon and ex-military types who formed the core around Ammon Bundy, the leader of the takeover.
Ammon emerges as a charismatic and canny figure who, in the Mormon patriarchal tradition, takes his direction only from God. Or at least, acts as God would have him do. He represents his freedom tribe's limitations as well. When the individual is the moral and ethical center of his universe, its morals and ethics are only as unflawed as the man himself.
There's an easy argument to made that the Bundys are selfish, messianic, cartoon cowboys. But Pogue does a good job of getting beyond the stereotypes. He exposes the appeal of their libertarian, individualist message and its potential to become a nationalistic movement that was also anti-government—the now installed in the White House.
Pogue skeptically views their beliefs about sovereign individuality—a teen age boy's notion of freedom—but also empathizes with their love of brotherhood, family, jacked-up 4X4s, firearms and open country. He also insightfully debunks some of the left's critiques of the new Sagebrush Rebellion as ultimately subject to the superior firepower of the US Government... The same firepower that has failed to suppress insurgencies in Vietnam, the Middle East and Afghanistan.
"Armed politics functions as a demonstration of conviction, a statement that some group believes so strongly in a cause that they're willing to go to prison, kill, or die for it." Pogue summons his exposure to the Irish resistance and says: "[T]he currency of insurgencies isn't political power or popular support... Their currency is death... [W]hen a believer dies at the hands of the state, it's the highest proof possible of the conviction that drove him to be willing to die in the first place."
Open warfare and decisive battles are not how resistance movements work, he argues. Anger over martyrdoms incubates slowly and deepens commitment to the struggle.
The Bundy's genius or good luck linked their movement, which could otherwise have looked like a white supremacist militia, to Patriotism and the ranching way of life.
This "provided the movement a moral urgency it had lacked before, and also provided a neat trick for cryptoracists and white identity types... The Bundys took a picturesque, iconic version of an American way of life and made the argument it was the purest representation of the way of life the Constitution, and God, had set down to follow. Patriot groups [and anti-Sharia Republicans in state legislatures] learned that you could preach cultural nationalism without ever really talking about anything but the Constitution."
Some readers may object to Pogue's insertion of his womanizing and substance abuse into the story, but it adds to its complexity and gives credibility to the movement's power. Why was this alien presence welcomed into the group? Was he just being used or was he seen as an empathetic and open soul who would give their position a fair portrayal, despite being close to their polar opposite in other ways? If Bundy can halfway suck in Pogue, it's impossible to explain away his appeal as being limited to the unsophisticated and unthinking. In fact, a number of Bundy's followers do spend time pondering the meaning of their commitment. But most of them miss how they are being used by economic and political interests far beyond their human concerns.
Pogue put himself at risk to listen and try to understand the point of view of the resistance, and to a great extent, he helps the reader to a greater appreciation of the forces at work. But after describing a final meeting with Ammon Bundy when he is in jail, Pogue concludes on a note of failure.
"[T]here's a point when trying too hard to listen to someone who has no plan on listening back stops feeling like a search for understanding, and starts to feel like surrender." He adds, unnecessarily for this readerm at least, "We're all learning this now."
August 3, 2018
This one really grew on me. I had just read Kathleen Belew's book, Bring the War Home (which is about the history of white supremacist, anti-government groups in America) when I picked this up—and I had followed the events at the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in the news as they happened. I had a pre-existing context, which was augmented by having grown up in the West (principally in Oregon and Wyoming). My curiosity about the subject drew me to the book, but I had some misgivings, frankly, about the author. This is billed as his first book. It's also billed as a first-hand account, which made me think that the quality of the scholarship—and the wider perspective desirable in such a book—might be lacking.
Ultimately, he won me over. James Pogue personalizes his writing sparingly, but essentially. His own journey of understanding is laid out like a memoir, but without extraneous rambling or naval-gazing. He brilliantly bridges the gap between the actors and the audience by essentially being both. I grew to trust him, and his judgment. He created a much more human (and much more memorable) version of the history at issue than I had before, and I'm grateful for that.
Ultimately, he won me over. James Pogue personalizes his writing sparingly, but essentially. His own journey of understanding is laid out like a memoir, but without extraneous rambling or naval-gazing. He brilliantly bridges the gap between the actors and the audience by essentially being both. I grew to trust him, and his judgment. He created a much more human (and much more memorable) version of the history at issue than I had before, and I'm grateful for that.
October 22, 2018
This account of the 2016 Occupation of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge has an unlikely author. The occupiers certainly looked past James Pogue’s NYC background and his thoughtful insight and opened up to him. Perhaps it is his knowledge of guns and pick-up trucks that made him an acceptable embed. The result is a highly unusual book.
(A photographer appears and disappears. Little is said of him. Presumably he likes guns and trucks too. It's a tease because there are no photos.)
Everything about the Malheur standoff was questionable: the issue (an arson – protest or crime? did those convicted do it?); Ammon Bundy (why is he leading this?) and premise that the federal government should not own land. There are allied spurious beliefs, for instance, belief in the ultimate sovereignty of county sheriffs.
It took me a while to get my bearings because, while somewhat sequential, each chapter is a topic of its own. I presume many are articles or parts of articles published elsewhere. Some are unique, such as the FBI’s informers – who they were and what they did (one joined the movement); a visit to the Mormon Temple, ruminations on sagebrush and a “private” meeting with Ammon Bundy. There are off road joy rides, talk of high school romance in Mormon country and pieces of the author’s personal story spanning across the US and Ireland.
What was most impressive were the personal sketches of the occupiers and the author’s take on why/how they got involved. For this you get the background of the federal role in land management, today’s farming/ranching economics, the militia movement and the role of the Mormon faith. Pogue is sympathetic to the occupiers (not their cause) and meets some of their families.
Striking is how many elected officials support this movement. Also striking is how after, a legal battle, the leaders of the occupation were absolved and among the followers, one died, a few served time and all wound up with legal fees and other financial losses.
This is an idiosyncratic book. The author not only shares himself with you to an extent not common in this type of reporting but also as an embed is arguably part of the story. If you want a quick summary of the public lands rancher faction of the “sagebrush rebellion” this a good place to start.
(A photographer appears and disappears. Little is said of him. Presumably he likes guns and trucks too. It's a tease because there are no photos.)
Everything about the Malheur standoff was questionable: the issue (an arson – protest or crime? did those convicted do it?); Ammon Bundy (why is he leading this?) and premise that the federal government should not own land. There are allied spurious beliefs, for instance, belief in the ultimate sovereignty of county sheriffs.
It took me a while to get my bearings because, while somewhat sequential, each chapter is a topic of its own. I presume many are articles or parts of articles published elsewhere. Some are unique, such as the FBI’s informers – who they were and what they did (one joined the movement); a visit to the Mormon Temple, ruminations on sagebrush and a “private” meeting with Ammon Bundy. There are off road joy rides, talk of high school romance in Mormon country and pieces of the author’s personal story spanning across the US and Ireland.
What was most impressive were the personal sketches of the occupiers and the author’s take on why/how they got involved. For this you get the background of the federal role in land management, today’s farming/ranching economics, the militia movement and the role of the Mormon faith. Pogue is sympathetic to the occupiers (not their cause) and meets some of their families.
Striking is how many elected officials support this movement. Also striking is how after, a legal battle, the leaders of the occupation were absolved and among the followers, one died, a few served time and all wound up with legal fees and other financial losses.
This is an idiosyncratic book. The author not only shares himself with you to an extent not common in this type of reporting but also as an embed is arguably part of the story. If you want a quick summary of the public lands rancher faction of the “sagebrush rebellion” this a good place to start.
December 22, 2025
Pogue-pilled
August 25, 2018
Wikipedia entry: “From January 2 to February 11, 2016, the (Oregon Malheur Wildlife) refuge's headquarters was seized by armed protesters related to the 2014 Bundy standoff. For most of the occupation, law enforcement allowed the occupiers to come and go at will. At the conclusion, most of the leaders were arrested, and one was killed while traveling away from the refuge when the group he was leading attempting to evade a police road block. The remaining occupiers either departed or surrendered peacefully.”
“It was around this time I began to notice how much of what seems to be deep American authenticity is really just pageantry.” p 46
Writer, drifter and free spirit James Pogue embedded in the 2016 takeover of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in order to explore the demands, backstory and personalities driving the rebellion.
The leaders of the takeover believe that the federal government does not have the authority under the Constitution to own federal lands or to police them with various federal agencies, such as the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management. Such rights, they believe belong to the states which should govern them for economic interests of state inhabitants.
Some of this comes from a far right wing reading/misreading of the Constitution. Interestingly enough, it also comes from fundamentalist Mormon writings, that state that the US Constitution is a God-given and sacred document. And finally, it comes from what many see as government overstepping its authority in taking away generations-old rights to graze stock or run small mines on federal lands – often due to new environmental regulations.
>“Those people are the range cops and forest rangers of the BLM and Forest Service, and they're dealing with communities where some large percentage of people don't want them there, don't agree with the rules they're enforcing, where people have gotten progressively poorer over the last few decades, and have lots of guns. I always try to tell angry westerners that they could not possibly imagine how much harder they'd have it dealing with the police in most any black neighborhood in this country. I tell them that the resources they'd love to maintain the same access they'd always had to are now increasingly desired by others, and that there's going to have to be some give on their part. But this is a hard argument to make, because the sympathetic figures of angry ranchers have been manipulated very successfully by a network of oligarchical billionaires and major companies – because they're resource conglomerates with an interest in breaking down drilling and mining restrictions; or because they can use the image of beset ranchers facing off against the big bad feds to try to color all environmental regulation and any attempt to address the issue of climate change as tyrannous federal overreach.” p 33
The author inserts himself with weed and booze, learning to love four wheeling over desert landscape and guns, also while in the midst of grief and loss of a family member.
There are some interesting points in this book. I did learn from it – however the results are a somewhat chaotic picture. That's the word I would generally use to describe this book: the uprising itself was chaotic and only loosely bound; While the author sometimes has a glorious turn of phrase, his actions and writing also sometimes deserve the same chaotic adjective.
“It was around this time I began to notice how much of what seems to be deep American authenticity is really just pageantry.” p 46
Writer, drifter and free spirit James Pogue embedded in the 2016 takeover of the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in order to explore the demands, backstory and personalities driving the rebellion.
The leaders of the takeover believe that the federal government does not have the authority under the Constitution to own federal lands or to police them with various federal agencies, such as the Forest Service and the Bureau of Land Management. Such rights, they believe belong to the states which should govern them for economic interests of state inhabitants.
Some of this comes from a far right wing reading/misreading of the Constitution. Interestingly enough, it also comes from fundamentalist Mormon writings, that state that the US Constitution is a God-given and sacred document. And finally, it comes from what many see as government overstepping its authority in taking away generations-old rights to graze stock or run small mines on federal lands – often due to new environmental regulations.
>“Those people are the range cops and forest rangers of the BLM and Forest Service, and they're dealing with communities where some large percentage of people don't want them there, don't agree with the rules they're enforcing, where people have gotten progressively poorer over the last few decades, and have lots of guns. I always try to tell angry westerners that they could not possibly imagine how much harder they'd have it dealing with the police in most any black neighborhood in this country. I tell them that the resources they'd love to maintain the same access they'd always had to are now increasingly desired by others, and that there's going to have to be some give on their part. But this is a hard argument to make, because the sympathetic figures of angry ranchers have been manipulated very successfully by a network of oligarchical billionaires and major companies – because they're resource conglomerates with an interest in breaking down drilling and mining restrictions; or because they can use the image of beset ranchers facing off against the big bad feds to try to color all environmental regulation and any attempt to address the issue of climate change as tyrannous federal overreach.” p 33
The author inserts himself with weed and booze, learning to love four wheeling over desert landscape and guns, also while in the midst of grief and loss of a family member.
There are some interesting points in this book. I did learn from it – however the results are a somewhat chaotic picture. That's the word I would generally use to describe this book: the uprising itself was chaotic and only loosely bound; While the author sometimes has a glorious turn of phrase, his actions and writing also sometimes deserve the same chaotic adjective.
April 6, 2020
Growing up in the eastern half of the country, I never thought much about federal land. But having lived in the west for close to a decade now, it turns out it can be a very big deal. The first controversy over federal land I really followed after I moved was the Bunkerville situation, orchestrated by a Nevada rancher, Cliven Bundy, and his sons Ammon and Ryan. Not too long after that incident, Ammon and Ryan led the takeover of Malhuer National Wildlife Refuge. Reporter James Pogue was in and around the Refuge during its occupation, and turned his experience with it into a book: Chosen Country.
Pogue half-heartedly tries to tie the Malhuer episode to the greater scope of the dying out of the "traditional" ranching culture of the west and the long-standing libertarian streak of the people here, their sense of independence and alienation from a bureaucracy so far away. I say half-heartedly not because the connection is tenuous, but because it's poorly explored. There's a rich history here, but Pogue only glances over it, completely leaving out incidents like Ruby Ridge (which aren't tied into the lands dispute, but definitely inform the prickly relationship between people who live in the rural areas and the federal government), so that he can spend more time talking about the relationships he built with the men who occupied the refuge and the things he did with them. In this choice, I really feel like he fails his readers, who I imagine are mostly picking up this book out of curiosity about the larger movement and Malhuer's place within it.
Pogue also stumbles in his organization of the book. Perhaps if I'd been reading a hard copy rather than an e-book, it might have been easier to flip back and forth and have a better sense of who he was talking about when, but Pogue tends to introduce a person (and there's a fairly large cast of them) and then go on to never again place them in context. For some of the more prominent people, like the Bundy brothers and LaVoy Finecum (who was ultimately killed), that's probably not necessary, but I kept forgetting who everyone was and their relationships (if any) to each other. He also jumbles his timelines quite a bit between Malhuer, Bunkerville, and a smaller incident he highlights involving a dispute over a mining claim. He's constantly ping-ponging back and forth in time and place without re-orienting his reader and it's confusing.
I know that's a lot of negativity, but I didn't hate the book. I mostly was disappointed in it...Pogue is talented at his work and paints a captivating portrait of Ammon Bundy in particular, as well as Finecum. His reporting for Vice about these events is very worth reading, and I can understand why he was able to pitch a book on the strength of it. I don't regret having read it, but I wish it had undergone more vigorous editing and done a better job of illuminating the environment in which the takeover took place. Instead we get stories about how Pogue understands why people value public lands so much after he takes a bunch of drugs while he camps in BLM land. Instead of reading this book, I'd recommend finding his original articles, which cover much the same territory without feeling like a padded-out term paper.
Pogue half-heartedly tries to tie the Malhuer episode to the greater scope of the dying out of the "traditional" ranching culture of the west and the long-standing libertarian streak of the people here, their sense of independence and alienation from a bureaucracy so far away. I say half-heartedly not because the connection is tenuous, but because it's poorly explored. There's a rich history here, but Pogue only glances over it, completely leaving out incidents like Ruby Ridge (which aren't tied into the lands dispute, but definitely inform the prickly relationship between people who live in the rural areas and the federal government), so that he can spend more time talking about the relationships he built with the men who occupied the refuge and the things he did with them. In this choice, I really feel like he fails his readers, who I imagine are mostly picking up this book out of curiosity about the larger movement and Malhuer's place within it.
Pogue also stumbles in his organization of the book. Perhaps if I'd been reading a hard copy rather than an e-book, it might have been easier to flip back and forth and have a better sense of who he was talking about when, but Pogue tends to introduce a person (and there's a fairly large cast of them) and then go on to never again place them in context. For some of the more prominent people, like the Bundy brothers and LaVoy Finecum (who was ultimately killed), that's probably not necessary, but I kept forgetting who everyone was and their relationships (if any) to each other. He also jumbles his timelines quite a bit between Malhuer, Bunkerville, and a smaller incident he highlights involving a dispute over a mining claim. He's constantly ping-ponging back and forth in time and place without re-orienting his reader and it's confusing.
I know that's a lot of negativity, but I didn't hate the book. I mostly was disappointed in it...Pogue is talented at his work and paints a captivating portrait of Ammon Bundy in particular, as well as Finecum. His reporting for Vice about these events is very worth reading, and I can understand why he was able to pitch a book on the strength of it. I don't regret having read it, but I wish it had undergone more vigorous editing and done a better job of illuminating the environment in which the takeover took place. Instead we get stories about how Pogue understands why people value public lands so much after he takes a bunch of drugs while he camps in BLM land. Instead of reading this book, I'd recommend finding his original articles, which cover much the same territory without feeling like a padded-out term paper.
July 6, 2018
I was very intrigued by this book after hearing a description of the subject over the radio. It seemed like a great opportunity to dissect the complex factors that led to the standoff and influence current land use in the West. Unfortunately the author included an excessive amount of superfluous detail regarding his drug use, sex life, and wanderings. Here's a lengthy excerpt:
"...I'd regretted that I'd been brought up into a culture so obsessed with youth and choice and freedom that when I was younger I'd felt-almost like Wes feeling like he had to go on his mission-that I had no choice but to drink up experience for experience's sake, to sleep with new partners in numbers that had gone far past my ability to count or account for in terms of human connection, and that I increasingly felt confused as to why it had once been so important to me that I get away from cincinnati, why I'd spent a decade consumed with physical displacement and bedding women..."
This self-reflective, woe-is-me/gonzo narrative distracts from the subject and fails to support any clear thesis - which is frustrating as the author clearly had fascinating insights and experiences with the Bundy family and the myriad characters that coalesced around the Malheur occupation. The author had a wonderful opportunity to explore the antecedents that led to the occupation (LDS church, de-regulatory politics, billionaire backed grassroots campaigns, zealous interpretations of the constitution, etc.) but squandered it.
"...I'd regretted that I'd been brought up into a culture so obsessed with youth and choice and freedom that when I was younger I'd felt-almost like Wes feeling like he had to go on his mission-that I had no choice but to drink up experience for experience's sake, to sleep with new partners in numbers that had gone far past my ability to count or account for in terms of human connection, and that I increasingly felt confused as to why it had once been so important to me that I get away from cincinnati, why I'd spent a decade consumed with physical displacement and bedding women..."
This self-reflective, woe-is-me/gonzo narrative distracts from the subject and fails to support any clear thesis - which is frustrating as the author clearly had fascinating insights and experiences with the Bundy family and the myriad characters that coalesced around the Malheur occupation. The author had a wonderful opportunity to explore the antecedents that led to the occupation (LDS church, de-regulatory politics, billionaire backed grassroots campaigns, zealous interpretations of the constitution, etc.) but squandered it.
Read
July 25, 2025I heard about this book from the author's appearance on Bungacast, which I would emphatically recommend to anyone interested in the current state of U.S. politics. On the show, Pogue explains the symbolic significance of public lands as it related to the competing visions of what the U.S. is, particularly on the right. He understands the conflicting visions on the right as both an extension of the conflict between Jefferson and Hamilton and a conflict between "Albion's Seed" Americans and "Ellis Island" Americans. It's a schema that makes a lot of sense to me. Pogue made me question whether, as a Yankee suburban failson, I have ever met an American -- a great many of us are cosmopolitan crypto-nihilists in John Hughes' Country, believe you me. Anyone who truly understands Americans, as Pogue does, understands that the only thing that unites us is an unrelenting paranoia. Enter the book.
I came into this thinking that this book was going to head in a more theoretical direction than it did. He's doing a, like, "journalistic memoir" where he'll digress into a couple first-person Bukowski scenes and then jump back into the action of wherever the narrative leaves you. As other reviewers point out, this does make it hard to follow at points -- though some of the digressions, particularly the chapter about Wes' backstory, really build new dimensions to the book as a whole. Though I came in with enough information to know the general arc of the event, I didn't feel particularly grounded in the narrative of the standoff. I got a firm sense of what he wanted to be taken away from the book, in terms of his ambivalence about what "American identity" is and becomes, and about what it means to have grief for a way of life. Forgive my fiction-reader POV here, but I think that a lot of the problems that other reviewers have with the book's structure are pretty standard "it's your first book and you're trying to do too much at once" types of problems, and they're not explicitly calling it out because it does achieve something beyond what most first books do.
I came into this thinking that this book was going to head in a more theoretical direction than it did. He's doing a, like, "journalistic memoir" where he'll digress into a couple first-person Bukowski scenes and then jump back into the action of wherever the narrative leaves you. As other reviewers point out, this does make it hard to follow at points -- though some of the digressions, particularly the chapter about Wes' backstory, really build new dimensions to the book as a whole. Though I came in with enough information to know the general arc of the event, I didn't feel particularly grounded in the narrative of the standoff. I got a firm sense of what he wanted to be taken away from the book, in terms of his ambivalence about what "American identity" is and becomes, and about what it means to have grief for a way of life. Forgive my fiction-reader POV here, but I think that a lot of the problems that other reviewers have with the book's structure are pretty standard "it's your first book and you're trying to do too much at once" types of problems, and they're not explicitly calling it out because it does achieve something beyond what most first books do.
September 2, 2019
This is an excellent and interesting book on the 2016 Malheur standoff and a good deal of the messy aftermath. I read the book because I wanted to get some insight into Trump supporters, and it occurred to me that the insight I really needed was into the minds of the right-wing crazy ranchers in my own area, which is out west. The author succeeds marvelously at this; he gives an account which is both surprisingly sympathetic to Bundy, but also critical at the same time. The main negative of the book is the confusing chronology in chapters 5 through 12, right at the beginning of the book, about which more below.
The book was quite appealing even though the author himself is not a particularly appealing character. He eats meat, he uses guns, he smokes, he drinks, he does drugs, he messes around with women. He seems to see himself as an Edward Abbey kind of guy. But he has some redeeming features: mostly, his own seeming honesty in recounting all these details about himself to us and to others. Plus, he is clearly anti-racist and sympathetic to the left, and quite critical, in his own aw-shucks macho way, of Bundy himself and his followers. It is exactly his (to me) unappealing qualities which, I think, allowed him to "embed" himself in the standoff, despite the fact that he was honest with them that he was a reporter from New York City. They could relate to him.
But, the author needs to make the chronology clearer. It starts out straightforwardly enough with his arrival at the Malheur refuge in 2016. Then, in chapter 5, he gets into a set of flashbacks. He goes into his own past, and rambles on about the BLM and the Mormons, then talks about the 2015 Mine standoff (which from other sources I found was the Sugar Pine Mine), and then there's a flashback-within-a-flashback to the 2014 Bundy standoff in Nevada, and then we're back to Sugar Pine. At this point I had just about decided to set the book aside in disgust, but then in chapter 13 suddenly we're back at Malheur. I had to read several pages before I was finally convinced that this time, we REALLY were at the Malheur standoff. And he stays at Malheur, in roughly chronological fashion, from there on out.
I don't know how to make this easier for potential readers. One way is to consult the handy guide below! Another way is to skip chapters 5 through 12 altogether, or to come back to them after you've read everything else. But if you do that, you'll miss a lot of interesting stuff, some of it really important background. A third way is to treat chapters 5 through 12 as a kind of stream-of-consciousness thing, being aware that in chapter 13 you'll make it back to the main event.
Dear Mr. Author Sir: if you revise this, perhaps you could give better descriptive chapter titles that let the reader know what year this is, and where we are. I know that "flashbacks" are all the rage with novelists these days, with some novels going back and forth between the present day and some plot in the 18th century. Unless we are writing time travel novels, can we please not do this quite as much?
Pogue takes the narrative through Bundy's subsequent acquittal, Trump's election, and the trial of some lesser figures. (He doesn't get to Trump's pardon of the Hammonds, whose case inspired the Malheur standoff.) The situation with the BLM and western ranchers is still confusing to me. I came to this predisposed to be in favor of the BLM managers. They're just trying to enforce the law, which favors ranchers from the outset, and the ranchers are giving them a hard time! The narrative doesn't really explain this problem, though I suspect from this book that it's a question of "too many cooks in the kitchen." But if you want some insight into what Bundy, the Mormons, and the right-wing militias are all about, and where they draw their support, this book will give you a sympathetic but critical account.
Here's the chronology of the troublesome parts of the book:
Chapter 1 --- gets to the refuge (at Malheur), his quick trip takes a turn.
Chapter 2 --- Jason's story.
Chapter 3 --- general description of the Great Basin and inhabitants.
Chapter 4 (23) --- At the refuge. Community meeting. Complaining about the BLM after Pastor leaves.
Chapter 5 (36) --- Flashback to the author's personal life! 20 years old.
Chapter 6 (47) --- Four years later. More personal stuff.
Chapter 7 (54) --- History. Gifford Pinchot, early 20th century.
Chapter 8 (60) --- History of Mormons and their views on the Constitution.
Chapter 9 (67) --- April 2015. Standoff between BLM and some gold miners. [Elsewhere I find that it's the Sugar Pine Mine.] Oath Keepers. Mentions, at the end, an "earlier" standoff with the Bundys.
Chapter 10 (72) --- Meets with Shawn Records, a photographer, and a local BLM guy, Jim Wittington. We apparently are still with the Miner standoff. Background on the BLM, ranger stations bombed, BLM employees threatened, communities divided, then the Bundys show up to provoke a bigger constitutional crisis.
Chapter 11 (78) --- The Bundy family. Background of the 2014 standoff. Then an account of the standoff itself.
Chapter 12 (96) --- Now we're back in 2015, at the mine, I think. Pogue asks about the banks, and Occupy, and gets interesting answers. (I don't think we ever hear how the mine standoff ends.)
Chapter 13 (112) --- At last, we're at the Malheur refuge.
Chapter 14 (116) through chapter 34 and the Epilogue --- and, we're at Malheur for good.
There's an article about the mine standoff:
https://www.hcn.org/issues/48.2/showd...
According to this, the ending was "anti-climactic." The miners can continue mining while they appeal.
Another article:
https://www.rawstory.com/2015/04/this...
The book was quite appealing even though the author himself is not a particularly appealing character. He eats meat, he uses guns, he smokes, he drinks, he does drugs, he messes around with women. He seems to see himself as an Edward Abbey kind of guy. But he has some redeeming features: mostly, his own seeming honesty in recounting all these details about himself to us and to others. Plus, he is clearly anti-racist and sympathetic to the left, and quite critical, in his own aw-shucks macho way, of Bundy himself and his followers. It is exactly his (to me) unappealing qualities which, I think, allowed him to "embed" himself in the standoff, despite the fact that he was honest with them that he was a reporter from New York City. They could relate to him.
But, the author needs to make the chronology clearer. It starts out straightforwardly enough with his arrival at the Malheur refuge in 2016. Then, in chapter 5, he gets into a set of flashbacks. He goes into his own past, and rambles on about the BLM and the Mormons, then talks about the 2015 Mine standoff (which from other sources I found was the Sugar Pine Mine), and then there's a flashback-within-a-flashback to the 2014 Bundy standoff in Nevada, and then we're back to Sugar Pine. At this point I had just about decided to set the book aside in disgust, but then in chapter 13 suddenly we're back at Malheur. I had to read several pages before I was finally convinced that this time, we REALLY were at the Malheur standoff. And he stays at Malheur, in roughly chronological fashion, from there on out.
I don't know how to make this easier for potential readers. One way is to consult the handy guide below! Another way is to skip chapters 5 through 12 altogether, or to come back to them after you've read everything else. But if you do that, you'll miss a lot of interesting stuff, some of it really important background. A third way is to treat chapters 5 through 12 as a kind of stream-of-consciousness thing, being aware that in chapter 13 you'll make it back to the main event.
Dear Mr. Author Sir: if you revise this, perhaps you could give better descriptive chapter titles that let the reader know what year this is, and where we are. I know that "flashbacks" are all the rage with novelists these days, with some novels going back and forth between the present day and some plot in the 18th century. Unless we are writing time travel novels, can we please not do this quite as much?
Pogue takes the narrative through Bundy's subsequent acquittal, Trump's election, and the trial of some lesser figures. (He doesn't get to Trump's pardon of the Hammonds, whose case inspired the Malheur standoff.) The situation with the BLM and western ranchers is still confusing to me. I came to this predisposed to be in favor of the BLM managers. They're just trying to enforce the law, which favors ranchers from the outset, and the ranchers are giving them a hard time! The narrative doesn't really explain this problem, though I suspect from this book that it's a question of "too many cooks in the kitchen." But if you want some insight into what Bundy, the Mormons, and the right-wing militias are all about, and where they draw their support, this book will give you a sympathetic but critical account.
Here's the chronology of the troublesome parts of the book:
Chapter 1 --- gets to the refuge (at Malheur), his quick trip takes a turn.
Chapter 2 --- Jason's story.
Chapter 3 --- general description of the Great Basin and inhabitants.
Chapter 4 (23) --- At the refuge. Community meeting. Complaining about the BLM after Pastor leaves.
Chapter 5 (36) --- Flashback to the author's personal life! 20 years old.
Chapter 6 (47) --- Four years later. More personal stuff.
Chapter 7 (54) --- History. Gifford Pinchot, early 20th century.
Chapter 8 (60) --- History of Mormons and their views on the Constitution.
Chapter 9 (67) --- April 2015. Standoff between BLM and some gold miners. [Elsewhere I find that it's the Sugar Pine Mine.] Oath Keepers. Mentions, at the end, an "earlier" standoff with the Bundys.
Chapter 10 (72) --- Meets with Shawn Records, a photographer, and a local BLM guy, Jim Wittington. We apparently are still with the Miner standoff. Background on the BLM, ranger stations bombed, BLM employees threatened, communities divided, then the Bundys show up to provoke a bigger constitutional crisis.
Chapter 11 (78) --- The Bundy family. Background of the 2014 standoff. Then an account of the standoff itself.
Chapter 12 (96) --- Now we're back in 2015, at the mine, I think. Pogue asks about the banks, and Occupy, and gets interesting answers. (I don't think we ever hear how the mine standoff ends.)
Chapter 13 (112) --- At last, we're at the Malheur refuge.
Chapter 14 (116) through chapter 34 and the Epilogue --- and, we're at Malheur for good.
There's an article about the mine standoff:
https://www.hcn.org/issues/48.2/showd...
According to this, the ending was "anti-climactic." The miners can continue mining while they appeal.
Another article:
https://www.rawstory.com/2015/04/this...
May 12, 2020
Although well-connected to the principal personalities in the Malheur stand-off, and a perceptive, articulate writer, Pogue is all over the map here, both literally and figuratively. Jumping between different locations and time periods, his style is episodic and impressionistic to the point that I had trouble understanding the sequence of events. (The absence of an index didn't help.) His account falls short of objective journalism--if that's what he intended--because he puts so much of himself and his own traumas into it.
Still, his insights about why the rebels think the way they do and his ability to sit down with them and explore issues in depth as friends, instead of as mere interview subjects, makes for a compelling narrative. It brought some clarity about an incident that has long been puzzling to me.
Still, his insights about why the rebels think the way they do and his ability to sit down with them and explore issues in depth as friends, instead of as mere interview subjects, makes for a compelling narrative. It brought some clarity about an incident that has long been puzzling to me.
November 22, 2017
I received an advanced review copy from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I remember when I first heard about a bunch of cowboys holed up in a wildlife refuge, protesting the government. I found what they were doing so intriguing. Since then I have looked into why the Bundys and others decided to do what they did. When I was given the chance to read Chosen Country I jumped at the chance to learn more about the event.
Chosen Country is written from the perspective of the author, who worked as a journalist during the siege. I really looked forward to reading this, and overall the book delivered. I was able to learn more about what drove the ranchers out west to support the Bundys. Many were inspired by a desire to fight the Bureau of Land Management, who they felt was unfairly charging them grazing fees on what the ranchers deemed as public land. Sometimes I understood where they were coming from, and sometimes I didn’t. What did become abundantly clear to me was that there are some significant cultural differences dividing the eastern and western parts of the country. There is no way I, as one from the East, could ever fully understand what drives Western Ranchers. This was made clear to me as the author tried to explain the desires and needs of the actors in the standoff. While the book does not end happily, it does leave one thinking.
Overall, I enjoyed this book. Despite the meandering story and the author’s superfluous need to describe his drug usage, I was still able to learn quite a lot. All in all, this was an eye-opening read that I give a 4 out of 5.
I remember when I first heard about a bunch of cowboys holed up in a wildlife refuge, protesting the government. I found what they were doing so intriguing. Since then I have looked into why the Bundys and others decided to do what they did. When I was given the chance to read Chosen Country I jumped at the chance to learn more about the event.
Chosen Country is written from the perspective of the author, who worked as a journalist during the siege. I really looked forward to reading this, and overall the book delivered. I was able to learn more about what drove the ranchers out west to support the Bundys. Many were inspired by a desire to fight the Bureau of Land Management, who they felt was unfairly charging them grazing fees on what the ranchers deemed as public land. Sometimes I understood where they were coming from, and sometimes I didn’t. What did become abundantly clear to me was that there are some significant cultural differences dividing the eastern and western parts of the country. There is no way I, as one from the East, could ever fully understand what drives Western Ranchers. This was made clear to me as the author tried to explain the desires and needs of the actors in the standoff. While the book does not end happily, it does leave one thinking.
Overall, I enjoyed this book. Despite the meandering story and the author’s superfluous need to describe his drug usage, I was still able to learn quite a lot. All in all, this was an eye-opening read that I give a 4 out of 5.
June 21, 2018
This book does something worthwhile: Pogue finds common ground with the Bundy family militia who occupied federal land in a recognition of governmental authoritarianism and shared attraction to a certain idea of masculinity involving guns and the rural West while ultimately being frustrated that they were growing increasingly openly racist and did not give a shit about innocent blacks being shot by cops or corporate power over elections. You could call him naive, but that brings up the more irritating part of the book. Pogue keeps alluding to personal issues involving drug abuse, which was going on during the reporting of the incidents of this book, and, to a lesser extent, regrets over his ex life, but does not go into them with any real depth. He makes CHOSEN COUNTRY about himself in large part but I never got more than a superficial feel for his personality and was far more interested in what he said to say about the militia movement and politics. Roberto Minervini's documentary THE OTHER SIDE, which profiles a rural Texas militia whose members make cogent remarks about the futility of America's Middle Eastern wars and go on to say idiotic things like "Obama will let the UN invade in order to confiscate all of our guns" 30 seconds later, covers similar ground to better effect in cinematic form.
August 19, 2018
This book would never have been written if it were not for the errant ways of The United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit. The court violated the rights of the Hammonds a southeastern Oregon ranching family. Ammon Bundy showed up in Burns, Oregon, of his own volition, to spotlight their plight. And spotlight it he did. Things got out of control. Although one person dies the federal and state law enforcement demonstrate a great deal of restraint avoiding a Ruby Ridge or Waco disaster. Most Oregonians following this until the very end held their breath hoping it would not explode. The book is written by a New York writer who was prompted not by a cause but for the chance to earn some money. His writing lacks a clear sense of direction and seems rushed and somewhat incoherent. He gets close to some players but he spends too much time ruminating on his own plight. The book begins with the writer arriving in Burns Oregon and then on to the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and then reflects back on an incident on BLM land in Southern Oregon and touches on the Bunkerville standoff then back to Malheur. The tone would not make it suitable for young readers or as a gift. I was hoping for more.
June 26, 2018
When a story hits the headlines that is complex and confusing, I often promise myself that I will wait for the book in order to get perspective on what is going on. This is a book about the occupation of the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge in Oregon in early 2016.
I am not sure what to call this book. My library system has it listed under the Dewey Decimal System 303, which is Social Sciences, social processes. That fits it partially. The author, Pogue, digs into the history and thinking of a number of the participants and how their organizations evolved. But the book is also very personal in that Pogue was present at a number of the incidents leading up to occupation and at the occupation, nominally as a free lance journalist. He has met and spent time with a number of the people involved.
This is not an arms-length journalistic piece but his story of what he did during this time including the death of his grandmother and uncle, drinking, drugs and girl friends. And he very definitely has opinions on public lands and outdoor experience and expresses them while still trying to give the occupiers a voice.
I am not sure what to call this book. My library system has it listed under the Dewey Decimal System 303, which is Social Sciences, social processes. That fits it partially. The author, Pogue, digs into the history and thinking of a number of the participants and how their organizations evolved. But the book is also very personal in that Pogue was present at a number of the incidents leading up to occupation and at the occupation, nominally as a free lance journalist. He has met and spent time with a number of the people involved.
This is not an arms-length journalistic piece but his story of what he did during this time including the death of his grandmother and uncle, drinking, drugs and girl friends. And he very definitely has opinions on public lands and outdoor experience and expresses them while still trying to give the occupiers a voice.
June 7, 2018
This is an excellent book. Pogue brings a clarity of perspective to a very complex societal transformation occurring in this nation. His willingness to sidestep his point of view allows the people in his book to speak their truth. There is very little editorializing about how things should be. Instead he lets his subjects have their say while Pogue leavens his perspective with just the right amount of humility and skepticism. Any and all outdoorsfolks, be they urban eco-warriors to redstate freedom warriors, will benefit from the balanced approach used in this book. Witty, self-deprecating and such an odd mix of east coast urban sensibility combined with ecstasy of living off the grid in the wilds and the vast open spaces of the west, this is a book of extremes. I look forward to reading the future works of Pogue. He is a gifted observer of people and the world they inhabit, be it the vastness of the american west or the old urban landscapes of the east.
March 27, 2021
I waffled between 3 & 4 stars, but overall thought this was a good deeper look into the Malhuer occupation. At the time it occurred, I was laid off from my seasonal forest service job on the other side of Oregon, so I followed it loosely and it was a hot topic of conversation when I came back.
The inside information Pogue gets straight from the source is at times incredible and at others entirely obvious. It seems like he grants them an awful lot of sympathy when waxing poetic about how everyone in the country is probably more similar than different, but has moments of clarity when he talks about the milita groups affiliations with white supremacy groups and racial lines they won’t cross.
The book touches on a lot of aspects of rural western American life besides the occupation too, and in my opinion does a good job representing it well.
The inside information Pogue gets straight from the source is at times incredible and at others entirely obvious. It seems like he grants them an awful lot of sympathy when waxing poetic about how everyone in the country is probably more similar than different, but has moments of clarity when he talks about the milita groups affiliations with white supremacy groups and racial lines they won’t cross.
The book touches on a lot of aspects of rural western American life besides the occupation too, and in my opinion does a good job representing it well.
January 5, 2019
I'm partial to this one because I know the author, but I learned a lot from it about the roots of the anti-federal government movements in rural America, particularly in Nevada. James was there at the Malheur standoff, so you get an inside look at the participants, including the Bundys and the man who was killed, LaVoy Finicum. It's a fish-out-of-water tale of a Brooklyn hipster among the militias, which makes for entertaining reading, but it also offers a scary glimpse of a violent anti-American movement that is gaining strength under the current administration. Want to know what it's like when the racists, the conspiracy-obsessed kooks, and the religious zealots come together? Read this book.
July 1, 2018
At its core, this is memoir but wrapped around it is the specific story of the Bundy standoff at the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in 2016 and more generally about the bigger political trends in America that would culminate in November. While the author seemed at times naive and admittedly somewhat lost, I enjoyed the journey and it furthered my understanding of the wider battle over use of public lands.
July 30, 2019
This is a fascinating, imperfect look at the Malheur NWR occupation of 2016. Although I grew up a good seven hours from Burns and the area the Bundys seized, as an Oregonian, I've been fascinated by this story since it broke. Pogue's account has some problems, but I doubt we'll see a better one.
The problems first: this is a sort of Gonzo book, and some (not all) of that content feels gratuitous. I am not sure we need as much as we get of Pogue's one-night stands, drug use, or family dynamics, although his first-person narration (and interrogation) of his own involvement in the Oregon standoff is always good and well-justified. Oddly, though, it is the Oregon standoff that is presented most confusingly, as if Pogue were too close to the whole thing to get a bird's-eye view. He narrates the earlier Bunkerville, NV standoff near the Bundy ranch far more lucidly, although (or because?) he wasn't physically there. The exact timeline of how Ammon Bundy arrived in Oregon, how his occupation related to the claims of the Hammonds père et fils, and why they chose the Malheur NWR is broken up by large chunks of flashbacks, and parts of this narrative are entirely omitted.
Instead, Pogue prefers subjective reporting of what he actually saw, and he is quite good at this. The odd cast of characters is well-drawn throughout, and above all, Pogue manages to criticize fiercely while still showing a degree of sympathy for the ranchers, miners, conspiracy cranks, and Mormon extremists he spent quite some time palling around with. Pogue, who generally aligns himself with the left, admits to having been an anarchist in his youth, and it is perhaps above all as such that he is able to find common ground with a set of characters defined by their hatred of intrusive governance, bureaucracy, and rule-making. Despite this, he resoundingly condemns the Sagebrush militias' descent into Trumpism, conspiracy theories, and racist rhetoric, something he believes was driven by both anti-Obama sentiment and the Trump campaign itself. It is this complexity that makes the book worth reading.
I wish this book included a slightly better objective history of the entire occupation from beginning to end; it would be wise to replace some of the more tangential Gonzo content with something of the sort. Nevertheless, this is a fine meditation on extremism, the role of government in the care of the commons, and our bizarre early-century political moment in general.
The problems first: this is a sort of Gonzo book, and some (not all) of that content feels gratuitous. I am not sure we need as much as we get of Pogue's one-night stands, drug use, or family dynamics, although his first-person narration (and interrogation) of his own involvement in the Oregon standoff is always good and well-justified. Oddly, though, it is the Oregon standoff that is presented most confusingly, as if Pogue were too close to the whole thing to get a bird's-eye view. He narrates the earlier Bunkerville, NV standoff near the Bundy ranch far more lucidly, although (or because?) he wasn't physically there. The exact timeline of how Ammon Bundy arrived in Oregon, how his occupation related to the claims of the Hammonds père et fils, and why they chose the Malheur NWR is broken up by large chunks of flashbacks, and parts of this narrative are entirely omitted.
Instead, Pogue prefers subjective reporting of what he actually saw, and he is quite good at this. The odd cast of characters is well-drawn throughout, and above all, Pogue manages to criticize fiercely while still showing a degree of sympathy for the ranchers, miners, conspiracy cranks, and Mormon extremists he spent quite some time palling around with. Pogue, who generally aligns himself with the left, admits to having been an anarchist in his youth, and it is perhaps above all as such that he is able to find common ground with a set of characters defined by their hatred of intrusive governance, bureaucracy, and rule-making. Despite this, he resoundingly condemns the Sagebrush militias' descent into Trumpism, conspiracy theories, and racist rhetoric, something he believes was driven by both anti-Obama sentiment and the Trump campaign itself. It is this complexity that makes the book worth reading.
I wish this book included a slightly better objective history of the entire occupation from beginning to end; it would be wise to replace some of the more tangential Gonzo content with something of the sort. Nevertheless, this is a fine meditation on extremism, the role of government in the care of the commons, and our bizarre early-century political moment in general.
November 8, 2018
This book caught me off-guard. I did not research this book too much before reading it, barely skimming the description. I have been on a journey to read many different books from different points of view from my own, in an attempt to understand the complex and extreme division that exists in our country and culture today. My expectation (ignorant as it was at the time) was that this book was going to be a justification for the Bundy Stand-Offs and the attitudes and beliefs behind them. What I found instead was a book that was written honestly, with deep emotion, conviction, and respect for the Bundy's and several of their associates, and yet still represent a point of view that disagreed with their methods and their cultural mindsets. For this, I applaud the author. So rare is it for someone on one side of the fence to acknowledge the other side's point of view with respect, understand their position, and then clearly articulate an opposing point of view, and do so again with respect. Thank you Mr. Pogue.
The Bundy Stand-off in Easter Oregon felt close to home for me. I grew up in a small rural ranching town in far Northern California near the Oregon border, so I am familiar with many of the cultural and political outlooks expressed by the author of the people in the area and the people involved in the event. Also, I travel through Burns and this section of Oregon often, and while I am not part of the community, and really don't interact with the community outside of being a traveler, there is a familiarity to this area and the people there.
The book is a first hand account of many of the actions and conversations that took place during the Stand-Off in Eastern Oregon, and the author brings in many elements into the story that were lost in the press reports. The author explains such elements as the Mormon belief system and attitudes, and how people from conservative fundamental Christian and right-wing backgrounds became involved. Clearly, this conflict was about more than simple access to public lands, and became more of a public statement against federal control in our country.
Here are some insightful quotes from the book:
"Most people experience adversity as personal misfortune, or even maybe even as a product of their own past mis-steps. The Bundy men experienced personal misfortune as evidence that something is wrong with the world around them and rather than change themselves, they set out to change what was wrong with that world."
"Growing up in south-western Ohio, so close to the front lines of our politico-cultural wars, has always made me maybe a bit oversensitive to the not very subtle implications from right-wing men in our neighborhood that being 'of the left' or 'caring about the environment' was somehow incompatible with their idea of masculinity." ... "It can't be overstated how many men in this country have become conned into equating a psycho brand of right-wing politics with American masculinity in general."
"...one thing you learn in the social clubs and safe houses of West Belfast and South Armagh is that the currency of insurgency isn't political power or popular support in the traditional sense of building a broad constituency for a set of policies. Their currency is death. Killing an enemy proves the reality of your cause. And when a believer dies at the hands of the State, it's the highest proof possible of the conviction that drove him to be willing to die in the first place. This is what wins concessions. And this is why all insurgency groups, from the Irish Republican Army to ISIS to the Bundys, develop a cult of martyrdom..."
The Bundy Stand-off in Easter Oregon felt close to home for me. I grew up in a small rural ranching town in far Northern California near the Oregon border, so I am familiar with many of the cultural and political outlooks expressed by the author of the people in the area and the people involved in the event. Also, I travel through Burns and this section of Oregon often, and while I am not part of the community, and really don't interact with the community outside of being a traveler, there is a familiarity to this area and the people there.
The book is a first hand account of many of the actions and conversations that took place during the Stand-Off in Eastern Oregon, and the author brings in many elements into the story that were lost in the press reports. The author explains such elements as the Mormon belief system and attitudes, and how people from conservative fundamental Christian and right-wing backgrounds became involved. Clearly, this conflict was about more than simple access to public lands, and became more of a public statement against federal control in our country.
Here are some insightful quotes from the book:
"Most people experience adversity as personal misfortune, or even maybe even as a product of their own past mis-steps. The Bundy men experienced personal misfortune as evidence that something is wrong with the world around them and rather than change themselves, they set out to change what was wrong with that world."
"Growing up in south-western Ohio, so close to the front lines of our politico-cultural wars, has always made me maybe a bit oversensitive to the not very subtle implications from right-wing men in our neighborhood that being 'of the left' or 'caring about the environment' was somehow incompatible with their idea of masculinity." ... "It can't be overstated how many men in this country have become conned into equating a psycho brand of right-wing politics with American masculinity in general."
"...one thing you learn in the social clubs and safe houses of West Belfast and South Armagh is that the currency of insurgency isn't political power or popular support in the traditional sense of building a broad constituency for a set of policies. Their currency is death. Killing an enemy proves the reality of your cause. And when a believer dies at the hands of the State, it's the highest proof possible of the conviction that drove him to be willing to die in the first place. This is what wins concessions. And this is why all insurgency groups, from the Irish Republican Army to ISIS to the Bundys, develop a cult of martyrdom..."
April 2, 2026
Pogue gets good access to the Bundy clan and ranchers. But as much as the book illuminates about the movement and its Mormon roots, it also feels deeply compromised, a distraction for the author from his messy life. At one point, Pogue admits that he needed the Bundys more than they needed him. This seems true and that the ranchers realized it by giving Pogue access to their movement realizing that they could work him to present it in a sympathetic light. The book does that often but even worse fails to see the way the movement fits into the contours of other reactionary movements and beliefs where white male masculinity tries to reassert center stage in a world that that consider completely compromised. Pogue is correct that the movement cannot solely be reduced to issues of masculinity, privilege and whiteness. But he’s too involved and sympathetic to the community he’s reporting on to acknowledge it at all.
He also digresses into personal details that distract from the reportage. The problem with the book is that Pogue thinks he’s the likes of Hunter S, Thompson, in his early days, but he doesn’t have Thompson’s chops: his stylistic voice and brilliant insights. Many parts of the book I had to fan through after growing irritated with these innumerable digressions.
Many years later, Pogue writes a much better piece for Vanity Fair on how extreme groups of all political persuasions were bunkering down in the West for the apocalypse. His insights are sharper and his presence minimized. Check it out here: https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2023/...
He also digresses into personal details that distract from the reportage. The problem with the book is that Pogue thinks he’s the likes of Hunter S, Thompson, in his early days, but he doesn’t have Thompson’s chops: his stylistic voice and brilliant insights. Many parts of the book I had to fan through after growing irritated with these innumerable digressions.
Many years later, Pogue writes a much better piece for Vanity Fair on how extreme groups of all political persuasions were bunkering down in the West for the apocalypse. His insights are sharper and his presence minimized. Check it out here: https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2023/...
October 15, 2022
James Pogue is such an entertaining and informative author/journalist. Unlike so many journos today, he makes a real effort to understand people with whom he vehemently disagrees. Weaving his own personal story into "Chosen Country", Pogue gives readers an inside look at how he's able to be so empathetic while holding firm to his beliefs. He wants to understand the forces behind political conflicts and shifts and does a great job relaying them to readers, with a splash of Hunter Thompsonesque gonzo journalism to make it more entertaining.
The book details his time with the militia members (Ammon Bundy being the ringleader) who occupied the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in Oregon nearly a decade ago. Pogue talks to and even befriends people from incredibly different backgrounds, and he's not afraid to call out what he sees as malignant and dangerous manifestations of anti-government anger. Pogue shares some of the critiques radicals have, but he refuses to follow these critiques to dark and counterproductive places. Plus, he elucidates how corporate interests end up in the driver's seat with "grassroots" movements along for the ride. Loved this book and I hope he writes more in this vein.
The book details his time with the militia members (Ammon Bundy being the ringleader) who occupied the Malheur Wildlife Refuge in Oregon nearly a decade ago. Pogue talks to and even befriends people from incredibly different backgrounds, and he's not afraid to call out what he sees as malignant and dangerous manifestations of anti-government anger. Pogue shares some of the critiques radicals have, but he refuses to follow these critiques to dark and counterproductive places. Plus, he elucidates how corporate interests end up in the driver's seat with "grassroots" movements along for the ride. Loved this book and I hope he writes more in this vein.
May 5, 2019
At first I was annoyed that the author included so much of his personal life, but then I came to see that that was so important to the book. His perspective is so interesting because he was accepted into this group of people and found ways to relate to them despite their ideological differences. I feel like that perspective was really valuable.
But then, at the end, he seemed to fall back into mainline liberal rhetoric--as if he or his publishers needed to make very clear which side of the line he was on, in case the book had been too complex, or dealt too much with ambiguity. But his dealing with ambiguity was what gave him a voice! It was disappointing--not because I myself am not liberal, but because I feel that he took some of the power out of his own message.
Further, I myself am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I appreciated his treatment of the religion in the book. I felt that he was respectful and careful to not mislead.
But then, at the end, he seemed to fall back into mainline liberal rhetoric--as if he or his publishers needed to make very clear which side of the line he was on, in case the book had been too complex, or dealt too much with ambiguity. But his dealing with ambiguity was what gave him a voice! It was disappointing--not because I myself am not liberal, but because I feel that he took some of the power out of his own message.
Further, I myself am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I appreciated his treatment of the religion in the book. I felt that he was respectful and careful to not mislead.
December 9, 2024
I have mixed feelings about this book. The author makes some sharp observations, but much of the book is marred by the author's own admitted fascination with the macho gun culture of the libertarian far right. He emphasizes his own environmentalist principles and leftist committments, but it seems like he's taken in by the Bundys nonetheless. As others have noted, the book is also pretty meandering. The author makes an effort at gonzo reporting, but his tales of boozing and shooting guns still come off as kind of tepid.
June 15, 2018
Engaging and disturbing. It's quite a journey that James takes us on into a world that he captures so vividly. I'm going to be spending some time processing all of the aspects of this story. Rather than seeming like a series of news stories, the individuals come to life in a book which reads like a well-crafted novel.
July 30, 2018
An entertaining and comprehensive look at the Malheur occupation. Pogue humanizes the players and gives a unique and compelling persepective. I also enjoyed the chapters on the history of the region and his understated and honest catalog of his personal foibles and what it means to be an intelligent, sensitive man in modern America.
November 12, 2018
Really good story, told from a biased but balanced perspective. It's definitely worth a read. Pogue tends to use long run on sentences. He also weaves into his own personal story which distracts from the main story unnecessarily at times. All in all a good read though and a pretty relevant story about current politics in the US.
March 2, 2021
He has a lot of information, interesting information even, but has compiled it in such a seemingly random and discombobulated way that I couldn't bring myself to finish. It felt like I was reading a book composed of short story memoirs and informational articles that were only vaguely related.
I would have enjoyed this a LOT more if the same information were arranged to tell a cohesive story.
I would have enjoyed this a LOT more if the same information were arranged to tell a cohesive story.
July 8, 2022
Inspired by the central players in this cowtown drama, I should say that God put me on this planet to read this book--and other books that accumulated in piles on floors and shelves--while also writing ✍️ a few. I came, I read, I wrote less than I read, I read more, I endured the elements, I died and was no longer. Ammon.
https://kudera.blogspot.com/2022/07/s...
https://kudera.blogspot.com/2022/07/s...
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