“Tonight there was no loon and almost no wind and they went up through tamarack and hemlock and a few large birch trees whose pale bark fluoresced. At the top of the knoll they followed a game trail to a ledge of broken rock as if they weren’t the first who had sought the view. And they saw it. They looked northwest. At first they thought it was the sun, but it was far too late for any lingering sunset and there were no cities in that direction for a thousand miles. In the farthest distance, over the trees, was an orange glow. It lay on the horizon like the light from banked embers and it fluttered barely so they wondered if it was their eyes and they knew it was a fire…”
- Peter Heller, The River
Peter Heller’s The River belongs firmly in the rather robust subgenre of people in the wilderness getting in way over their heads. Indeed, in following two young men using a canoe to prove their masculinity, Heller calls to mind James Dickey’s Deliverance, which he helpfully name-checks to assure us he’s in on the joke. Even though the setup is familiar, the execution nearly takes this to another level. While The River ultimately fails to transcend its boundaries, it is still a near-great novel.
When I picked this up, I expected a gradual buildup, a slow accumulation of mistakes leading to disaster. Heller, though, has other ideas. When The River opens, we are already well into Jack and Wynn’s paddle-a-thon in northern Canada, near the remote Maskwa River. Almost immediately – with the efficiency of a screenwriter – Heller sets up the drama to come. First, Jack and Wynn – who met in college – discover a forest fire in the distance, heading their way. Next, they have an off-putting encounter with two drunk, foul-mouthed men who seem curiously unconcerned about the onrushing inferno. A short time later, they hear a man and woman arguing in the forest. Later, they will meet the man on the trail, but not the woman.
Those are the ingredients. Fire. Weirdos. Missing woman.
It would be impossible to say much more without disclosing key plot points.
Much more can be said in terms of structure and writing.
To begin, Heller's use of the forest fire is a brilliantly simple engine for this story. No matter what else is going on, there is always that creeping danger from behind. Like Jason in the original Friday the 13th, unseen but ever-present, the ominous scent of smoke in the air infuses everything with dread.
I also liked the pace. Despite a blistering start, with a whole bunch of things happening at once, Heller does not keep the pedal to the metal the entire way. Rather, he does a really good job of modulating narrative velocity by the judicious use of flashbacks into Jack and Wynn’s lives. The flashbacks act as a release valve for the tension, allowing Heller to draw things out gradually.
The flashbacks also do a good job of developing Jack and Wynn as characters. In the early going, the two men seem interchangeable. Both are competent and confident and I couldn’t really tell them apart. As The River unfolds, however, their pasts are slowly teased out, and they become distinct.
Writing in the third-person, and switching between Jack and Wynn, Heller allows us to see how both men operate. They view the world in vastly different ways, and because of that, they make different choices that have immeasurably different consequences. I was really impressed by the way that Heller connected the men’s decision-making with their personalities.
In a book like this, the plot often dictates how people act. Heller does not completely avoid this pitfall. To the contrary, one of The River’s fundamental weaknesses is that it rests on the premise that Jack and Wynn are super-skilled outdoorsmen who nevertheless start their long, dangerous journey without a satellite phone or personal locator beacon, an act of stupidity that no one with actual wilderness experience should make. That aside, much of what happens stems organically from the characters Heller has created.
For me, the best part of The River is its lyrical depiction of nature. Heller’s prose is at its finest when detailing the trees, the rocks, the lakes, and the river. The setting is a major character, and Heller gives it its due. At times, it was like a vicarious vacation, reminding me of past visits to the Boundary Waters (except, of course, for the concatenation of potentially lethal conditions). Heller paints his scenes with realism and precision, a Winslow Homer of words. There is a low-key genius to the way he is able to convey what a paddle sounds like when it dips into the water.
With all that said, The River is not a perfect novel. There were times when the philosophizing of Wynn and Jack – both went to Dartmouth – becomes a bit too pretentious and on the nose. Furthermore, certain sections pointedly remind you that Heller was a former contributing editor to Outside. He fetishizes gear, providing loving descriptions – complete with name-brands – of their canoe, their fly rods, their knives, and their guns. The result is that The River sometimes comes across as a species of REI or Cabela’s porn, more a catalogue than a story. I was almost surprised when he did not provide the prices.
Then there is the ending. Unlike a lot of thrillers with literary aspirations – which this book certainly has – there is no ambiguity or confusion regarding the outcome. Heller lays it out plainly, tying all his threads together. Unfortunately, the finale is too abrupt and far too implausible for my tastes, and fails to give The River the staying power in my mind that it might otherwise have earned.
Though it concludes on a down note, that does not overshadow what came before. Up until the final pages, Heller does an excellent job of putting you into the middle of a trip from hell. This is a furious and engrossing tale of adventure, pitting man against nature, man against man, and man against himself, all while finding the occasional moment to study the beautiful natural stage on which these conflicts play out.