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432 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1998
Eventually, more ships and men were lost looking for Franklin than in the expedition itself.The polar regions exploration craze had its ups and downs since at least the sixteenth century, reaching epic proportions in the nineteenth century which would eventually lead to nationalist races to reach both the North Pole (supposedly first reached by the American explorer Peary in 1909) and the South Pole (reached by the Norwegian explorer Amundsen in 1911, just five weeks ahead of Scott).
None of his reading taught him the crucial thing. He could imagine the hardships faced by the explorers preceding us; but not that anything bad might happen to himself. A boy's belief.The subtexts give an idea what the official, the scientific societies and the public newspaper histories leave out: whalers refer disparagingly to the “discovery men”:
”It's what we call you arctic exploring types,” he said. “All you men who go on exploring expeditions, with funding and fanfare and special clothes, thinking you'll discover something. When every place you go some whaling ship has already been. We know more about the land and the currents than you ever will, and more about the habits of the whales and seals and walruses.the firmly shut out womens' side of the stories; the racist slant of many “scientific theories”; the moral blindness that respected white men's graves and mortal remains but shows no similar compunction for other races or people; the Esquimaux refer disparagingly to the “sickly men in blue garments”:
[...]
“That's what discovery men do,” Captain Sturrock said. “Get lost. Lose things.”
She couldn't understand how these people survived. They'd been like children, dependent on her tribe for clothes, food, sledges, dogs; surrounded by things that were of no use to them and bereft of women. Like children they gave their names to the landscape, pretending to discover places her people had known for generations.The Esquimaux had a name for the expedition leader:
...a chain of soft syllables that meant The One who is Trouble. To his face, they'd said the syllables meant The Great Explorer.Yet, Andrea Barrett is very much alive to romance of exploration and science and we come away from the book with a sense of awe for the Arctic landscape, wonder at the wealth of detail and variety of living creatures studied by science, nostalgia and admiration for the delicately tinted and engraved period illustrations that accompanied scientific papers, and a keen, if anachronistic, sense of loss for more sensitive, less destructive roads Western culture missed as it reached into other worlds and other cultures. What Barrett unfortunately leaves out, is that, as one-sided, biased, hamstrung and blind as some of the scientific work was, it helped lay the ground for better work in the future -after all, how much would we know about the habits of whales and seals and walruses if, with all due respect to Hermann Melville, we depended only on the writings of whalers?