In the end, I felt that The Magnetic North turned out to be a mixed bag: there are highs here in the broad scope that Wheeler gives herself, which in turn allows her to explore fascinating stories of historical and personal interest. Whether we're reading about Swedish explorers and Norwegian resistance fighters, roadtrips along long Alaskan highways, or Wheeler's struggles to reach Chukchi towns or her admiration for the Sami, there's always something interesting happening in this survey. The benefit of the book's organizational strategy – to be broken up in the "sectors" that reach above the lands surrounding the Arctic and into the world's topmost region – is that some differentiation is possible among this sea of anecdotes.
Less positively, I found that stories were often presented with slight effect; although analysis would have been helpful, it didn't feel that enough even narrative threads connected all these stories, the bulk of which occurred over a significantly disorganized personal chronology. This was a problem. Regions began to blur and blend into each other.
I found it fascinating, then, when Wheeler writes in her "Afterword" that "when I reread The Magnetic North now, it seems to me that it is not really about the Arctic at all. The issues I see hovering between the lines apply whatever the latitude: belief, hope, failure, being the best you can. Even the specifically Arctic business of melting glaciers, polar bears, and vanishing sea ice have moved south to join us, as the challenges of a changing climate are part of all our lives now." With this admission, Wheeler puts her finger on exactly what was bothering me about her approach. It is laudatory that she wishes to reconnect peoples of the Arctic with the sense of humanity, broadly conceived, but she also does much to reinforce myths of the Arctic as a "frontier" or "boundary" and a place where people are exotic and different – these efforts conflict with each other. Equally problematic, Wheeler's insistence on undifferentiation produces a sense of fuzzy greyness: while it's true that climate change is part of everyone's life, it is distributed differently, as too are the "issues" and lives that she sees that apply broadly. This is frustrating to me, as it's clear that Wheeler's experiences and stories are so good at providing material to differentiate regions, peoples, and cultures along with the forces that act on them and their own, specific ways of dealing with history, politics, and environmental change. Instead, she reaches too often for liberal platitudes.
Thus, while I forgive Wheeler's insistence that "the earth will regulate itself, as it always has. It is we who are at risk", I disagree with it and wish that in this book she more aggressively pursued the full implications of her following line: "we are more at risk now than the day this book was first published."
Some people at risk more than others. This must be worth remembering.