Samuel, the woodsy, self-reliant protagonist of Gary Paulsen's Woods Runner, is not unlike Brian Robeson of the famed Hatchet and its sequels. For one thing, Samuel is the exact same age, thirteen, as Brian was when he began his own wilderness epic. Samuel lives off of his wits and supremely fine-tuned wilderness skills deep in the woods of colonial America, away from his parents in much the same way as Brian does when he decides in the later Hatchet books that he would rather not live around people. Samuel's instincts are honed to a razor's edge of awareness; he can discern the type of animal he's listening to and the direction it's moving just from the tiny snap of a twig or the rustle of undergrowth that it disturbs on the forrest floor, and he uses his wilderness expertise to keep himself and his family fed. Little does he realize that the fledgling country he calls home is hovering on the brink of major nationwide disaster in the form of a bloody, torturous war that will leave countless lives shredded in its wake before all is finished.
Samuel is lucky that he doesn't live at home anymore when the armed forces on the British side of the Revolution first strike. They cruelly wring out the life of nearly everyone living in the town where Samuel's parents reside, maiming flesh and bone in repulsive, unspeakable ways. When Samuel notices the think, billowing smoke rising through the trees miles away in the direction of his parents' town, he recognizes by the type of smoke he sees that the fire is man-made, and must signal some kind of awful calamity. He is sickened as he returns to where his parents live and sees the grossly degraded bodies of family friends strewn all over, but at least his parents aren't among the dismembered dead. The only hope Samuel has is to set off in pursuit of the band of soldiers whom he surmises have abducted his parents, and try to steal them back.
Time and again as he stalks the kidnappers, Samuel's life is saved by little surprise twists of happenstance, accidents of pure chance that end up meaning the difference between a grizzly death and an opportunity to continue the chase to locate his parents. This is war, and nothing about Samuel's destiny is set in stone ahead of time. He is as vulnerable to the effects of sudden death wrought by wayward or intentioned musket balls as any other kid caught in the middle of this savage conflict, and he will by necessity have to cheat certain death a dozen times or more just to have a chance of reaching his parents in one piece. Samuel's travels have him tiptoeing a fine razor's edge almost nonstop throughout Woods Runner, teetering constantly on the verge of doom, and this creates an atmosphere of ever-encroaching suspense.
On the road to overtake the marauders who swiped his family, Samuel observes further examples of the waves of death brought about by the war. He sees even the mangled corpses of young children by the way, and personally witnesses the carrying out of atrocities of an equally heartless nature by Hessian mercenaries against innocent American citizens. Samuel doesn't have much personal stake in the outcome of the war, but he can recognize cruelty and horror when he sees it, and instinctively allies himself with the rebels to King George's crown. As he tries to keep pace with the movements of the soldiers who kidnapped his own parents, Samuel meets with other Americans whose tragic stories of grief and family loss at the hands of the British and the Hessians give him even more of a cause for which to fight, and a definite interest in helping to determine who will win out when the sanguine struggle between the most powerful army on earth and the stout American colonists is complete.
Gary Paulsen does a fantastic job of bringing an unconsidered corner of the American Revolution alive in this book. Interspersed with the heartrending action of the story are short segments explaining various technical aspects of the war, and I learned more from these informational historical pieces than I have in all but two or three other books that I have ever read about the Revolution. Story aside, Woods Runner is worth a great deal just for these bits of fascinating nonfiction, which detail parts of the Revolution that I never knew about. There's the introduction of grapeshot ammunition, and how it had the most extreme impact of any new weaponry advancement on suddenly increasing death tolls in battle up until the advent of rapid-fire machine gun artillery in the Great War. There's the treatment of war orphans, which had to be a major issue in this country considering how many American soldiers were killed, but which rarely is talked about in books. Then there's the significant effect that civilian spying had on the entire conflict, including the use of carrier pigeons to relay messages on behalf of the resistance. How important may it have been in any particular battle for the rebels to have even just a vague idea of what was coming beforehand? When an army is made up of farmers and blacksmiths inexperienced in the art of war, I'd have to think that such an advantage could mean nearly everything. All throughout Woods Runner, we come across nuggets of information like this, and many of them were completely new to me.
Woods Runner is a sobering book, doing nothing to glamorize the tribulations of war or make heroes out of its participants. It is a moving exploration of one part of the Revolution, though, and a story told with masterful simplicity that will bring the experience of the war crashing home hard for readers. In my opinion, this is Gary Paulsen near his very best, though I actually would have liked the book to be expanded to maybe three hundred or four hundred pages to be able to deliver the story in more detailed depth. Nonetheless, Woods Runner is a fine novel that I highly recommend, and I would probably give it three and a half stars.