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Deliverance
“You're hooked, you feel every cut, grope up every cliff, swallow water with every spill of the canoe, sweat with every draw of the bowstring. Wholly absorbing [and] dramatic.”— Harper's Magazine
The setting is the Georgia wilderness, where the states most remote white-water river awaits. In the thundering froth of that river, in its echoing stone canyons, four men on a canoe trip discover a freedom and exhilaration beyond compare. And then, in a moment of horror, the adventure turns into a struggle for survival as one man becomes a human hunter who is offered his own harrowing deliverance.
Praise for Deliverance
“Once read, never forgotten.” —Newport News Daily Press
“A tour de force . . . How a man acts when shot by an arrow, what it feels like to scale a cliff or to capsize, the ironic psychology of these things are conveyed with remarkable descriptive writing.” — The New Republic
“Freshly and intensely alive . . . with questions that haunt modern urban man.” — Southern Review
“A fine and honest book that hits the reader's mind with the sting of a baseball just caught in the hand.” — The Nation
“[James Dickey's] language has descriptive power not often matched in contemporary American writing.” — Time
“A harrowing trip few readers will forget.” — Asheville Citizen-Times
"A novel that will curl your toes . . . Dickey's canoe rides to the limits of dramatic tension." — New York Times Book Review
"A brilliant and breathtaking adventure." — The New Yorker
The setting is the Georgia wilderness, where the states most remote white-water river awaits. In the thundering froth of that river, in its echoing stone canyons, four men on a canoe trip discover a freedom and exhilaration beyond compare. And then, in a moment of horror, the adventure turns into a struggle for survival as one man becomes a human hunter who is offered his own harrowing deliverance.
Praise for Deliverance
“Once read, never forgotten.” —Newport News Daily Press
“A tour de force . . . How a man acts when shot by an arrow, what it feels like to scale a cliff or to capsize, the ironic psychology of these things are conveyed with remarkable descriptive writing.” — The New Republic
“Freshly and intensely alive . . . with questions that haunt modern urban man.” — Southern Review
“A fine and honest book that hits the reader's mind with the sting of a baseball just caught in the hand.” — The Nation
“[James Dickey's] language has descriptive power not often matched in contemporary American writing.” — Time
“A harrowing trip few readers will forget.” — Asheville Citizen-Times
"A novel that will curl your toes . . . Dickey's canoe rides to the limits of dramatic tension." — New York Times Book Review
"A brilliant and breathtaking adventure." — The New Yorker
253 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1970
576 people are currently reading
33178 people want to read
About the author
James Dickey
188 books206 followersDickey was born in Atlanta, Georgia. After serving as a pilot in the Second World War, he attended Vanderbilt University. Having earned an MA in 1950, Dickey returned to military duty in the Korean War, serving with the US Air Force. Upon return to civilian life Dickey taught at Rice University in Texas and then at the University of Florida. From 1955 to 1961, he worked for advertising agencies in New York and Atlanta. After the publication of his first book, Into the Stone (Middletown, Conn., 1962), he left advertising and began teaching at various colleges and universities. He became poet-in-residence and Carolina Professor of English at the University of South Carolina.
Dickey's third volume, Buckdancer's Choice (Middletown, 1965), won the prestigious National Book Award in Poetry. From 1966 to 1968 he served as poetry consultant to the Library of Congress. In 1977 Dickey read his poem 'The Strength of Fields' at President Carter's inauguration. The Hollywood film of his novel Deliverance (Boston, 1970) brought Dickey fame not normally enjoyed by poets.
Dickey's poems are a mixture of lyricism and narrative. In some volumes the lyricism dominates, while in others the narrative is the focus. The early books, influenced obviously though not slavishly by Theodore Roethke and perhaps Hopkins, are infused with a sense of private anxiety and guilt. Both emotions are called forth most deeply by the memories of a brother who died before Dickey was born ('In the Tree House at Night') and his war experiences ('Drinking From a Helmet'). These early poems generally employ rhyme and metre.
With Buckdancer's Choice, Dickey left traditional formalism behind, developing what he called a 'split-line' technique to vary the rhythm and look of the poem. Some critics argue that by doing so Dickey freed his true poetic voice. Others lament that the lack of formal device led to rhetorical, emotional, and intellectual excess. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two assessments, and it will be left to the reader to decide which phase of Dickey's career is most attractive.
Dickey's most comprehensive volume is The Whole Motion (Hanover, NH, and London, 1992). His early poems are collected in The Early Motion (Middletown, 1981). Recent individual volumes include The Eagle's Mile (Hanover and London, 1990) and Falling, May Day Sermon, and Other Poems (Hanover and London, 1982). Dickey has also published collections of autobiographical essays, Self Interviews (Garden City, NY, 1970; repr. New York, 1984) and Sorties (Garden City, 197 1; repr. New York, 1984).
From The Oxford Companion to Twentieth-century Poetry in English. Ed. Ian Hamilton. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Copyright © 1994 by Oxford University Press.
Dickey's third volume, Buckdancer's Choice (Middletown, 1965), won the prestigious National Book Award in Poetry. From 1966 to 1968 he served as poetry consultant to the Library of Congress. In 1977 Dickey read his poem 'The Strength of Fields' at President Carter's inauguration. The Hollywood film of his novel Deliverance (Boston, 1970) brought Dickey fame not normally enjoyed by poets.
Dickey's poems are a mixture of lyricism and narrative. In some volumes the lyricism dominates, while in others the narrative is the focus. The early books, influenced obviously though not slavishly by Theodore Roethke and perhaps Hopkins, are infused with a sense of private anxiety and guilt. Both emotions are called forth most deeply by the memories of a brother who died before Dickey was born ('In the Tree House at Night') and his war experiences ('Drinking From a Helmet'). These early poems generally employ rhyme and metre.
With Buckdancer's Choice, Dickey left traditional formalism behind, developing what he called a 'split-line' technique to vary the rhythm and look of the poem. Some critics argue that by doing so Dickey freed his true poetic voice. Others lament that the lack of formal device led to rhetorical, emotional, and intellectual excess. The truth probably lies somewhere between these two assessments, and it will be left to the reader to decide which phase of Dickey's career is most attractive.
Dickey's most comprehensive volume is The Whole Motion (Hanover, NH, and London, 1992). His early poems are collected in The Early Motion (Middletown, 1981). Recent individual volumes include The Eagle's Mile (Hanover and London, 1990) and Falling, May Day Sermon, and Other Poems (Hanover and London, 1982). Dickey has also published collections of autobiographical essays, Self Interviews (Garden City, NY, 1970; repr. New York, 1984) and Sorties (Garden City, 197 1; repr. New York, 1984).
From The Oxford Companion to Twentieth-century Poetry in English. Ed. Ian Hamilton. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1994. Copyright © 1994 by Oxford University Press.
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November 17, 2024
Intense, fierce, harsh, profound - anybody who has either read this James Dickey novel or seen the movie knows what I'm talking about.
Deliverance, a tale where the sentences run over white water rapids with jagged rocks sticking up everywhere. Grab a paddle and negotiate a batch of sentences taken from the first sixty pages where narrator Ed recounts the time prior to when he and his three suburban buddies stepped into their canoes and set off down a North Georgia river. I've also sprinkled in my modest comments.
"This whole valley will be under water. But right now it's wild. And I mean wild; it looks like something up in Alaska. We really ought to go up there before the real estate people get hold of it and make it over into one of their heavens.”
These are the words of Ed's best friend Lewis, the man heading up their river adventure. There's a critical dynamic here that shouldn't be underestimated: the rural folk in North Georgia know they're about to be displaced by urban sprawl and they resent it. In many ways, their displacement and the death of their way of life run parallel to Native Americans displaced by white expansion throughout the West under the banner of manifest destiny, a comparison highlighted by Goodreads friend and literary scholar Robert H. Brinkmeyer Jr.
"He was the kind of man who tries by any means – weight lifting, diet, exercise, self-help manuals from taxidermy to modern art – to hold on to his body and mind and improve them, to rise about time. And yet he was also the first to take a chance, as though the burden of his own laborious immortality were too heavy to bear, and he wanted to get out of it by means of an accident, or what would appear to others to be an accident.”
Here Ed describes his friend Lewis. As soon as the four boys hit rural Georgia, Ed gets a taste of the challenges Lewis has taken on for Drew, Bobby and himself. Drew playing music with the banjo boy, their dealings with the brothers they hire to drive their cars back down to town, their tussles with the wild river – everything turns out to be mere prelude to that violent encounter with two hillbillies.
As you read these opening pages, you could ask yourself if you would join Lewis on such a river excursion. Being a city guy myself, I have to tell you that I would not: as an adult, my adventures are taken either through literature and the arts or as an inner spiritual journey by means of meditation and yoga.
"I suddenly felt like George Holley, my old Braque man, must have felt when he worked for us, saying to himself in any way he could, day after day, I am with you but not of you."
Ed is brutally honest with himself: he admits he is very much with the graphic design work he does, that he doesn't have any artistic ambition beyond merely doing the job, that he wants nothing more than to slide through life without undue friction.
But then it happens for Ed: one day at the office he catches sight of the gold in the eye of a young female model his studio is photographing for an ad. All of a sudden Ed realizes his life is one unending sea of inconsequential happenings and he'll never move beyond the colorless borders of his own boredom. Ed flashes on the possibility of another life, a deliverance. How? That thrilling trip up river with Lewis.
"Funny thing about up yonder. The whole thing's different. I mean the whole way of taking life and the terms you take it on."
Again, these are the words of Lewis when Ed asks about what they're getting themselves into. Lewis goes on to explain that not only does Ed not know about the North Georgia rural life but he doesn't want to know anything about it. Ominous, ominous - the life of the hillbillies is not only drastically different but their rural lifestyle is so diametrically opposed to his suburban comfort, fancy house, luxury car, TV and secure company job that he will be seen as the enemy.
"But I believe in survival. All kinds. Every time I come up here, I believe in it more. You know, with all the so-called modern conveniences, a man can still fall down."
Once again, the words of Lewis, this time as he articulates his philosophy of life. According to Lewis, our time on this Earth all boils down to survival - how we're going to save ourselves when all we have to rely on is our bodies and our own inner strength.
Ed retorts that all of what Lewis said here is the making of a fantasy life. Lewis replies in turn: "That's all anybody has got. It depends on how strong your fantasy is, and whether you really - really - in your own mind, fit into your own fantasy, whether you measure up to what you've fantasized. i don't know what yours is, but I'll bet you don't come up to it."
Does this statement, this question, serve as a stand-in for what author James Dickey would like to ask us as we live our own lives? If so, that's one of the ultimate questions - do we really and truly measure up to our own vision of ourselves and our vision of the world? Are we willing to put our vision to the test? If so, how much risk, how much danger are we willing to undergo?
Question to keep in mind as we read this timeless classic.
July 12, 2024
DOVE PORTA IL FIUME
Il fiume Cahulawassee, nella Georgia settentrionale, nel romanzo, nel film fu girato sul fiume Chattooga, al confine tra Georgia e North Carolina. Dopo l’uscita del film si scatenò la voglia d’imitazione, e ci furono almeno 30 morti per annegamento.
Dickey scriveva principalmente poesie, questo è il suo prima romanzo, genere nel quale si cimentò solo un altro paio di volte.
Le sue poesie sono state paragonate al mitico “wall of sound” di Phil Spector, il produttore musicale altrettanto mitico.
[http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1745862/?ref _=nv_sr_1]: poesie che erano “walls of words”, stratificate, riverberate, imbottite di parole e suono (una delle più famose, “Falling”, descrive una hostess di 29 anni risucchiata da un jet in volo).
Con le poesie vinse il National Book Award e divenne poet laureat.
Ma per me, e per tanti, è noto soprattutto proprio per questo romanzo.
E il fatto, credo, lo si debba all’ottimo film che ne è stato tratto, che ha conservato lo stesso titolo del libro. Un film davvero superlativo che ha reso il romanzo intramontabile.
Al punto che, alla prima edizione, la traduzione italiana era Dove porta il fiume, per poi diventare identica a quella del titolo del film nella versione italiana, Un tranquillo weekend di paura.
Cast perfetto: Burt Rynolds al top della sua prestanza fisica non ancora sminuita dal ridicolo baffo che non ha più abbandonato dopo quel film; Jon Voigt in una fase di ristagno della carriera, dopo successi grandiosi e qualche passo falso; Ned Beatty, tenero ma irritante, e Ronny Cox prima che diventasse lo stereotipo del villain. Per i due protagonisti furono prima sentiti Sean Connery, Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, Lee Marvin, Donald Sutherland, James Stewart, Henry Fonda, Gene Hackman, Charlton Heston, tutti calibri da 90, alcuni decisamente troppo agée per il ruolo: per fortuna è andata come è andata. Dickey appare in un cammeo alla fine, nella parte dello sceriffo.
La sceneggiatura è opera dello stesso Dickey, ed è eccellente: per esempio, sui titoli di testa, mentre scorrono immagini del lavoro per la diga, si sentono le voci dei quattro che parlano al bar e pianificano il viaggio in canoa: non li si vede che più tardi, già in macchina diretti al fiume, ma con poche battute iniziali fuori campo sono riassunte pagine e pagine del libro in modo magistrale, e il pistolotto macho di Lewis è reso molto più accettabile e condivisibile.
Se però non avesse trovato il talento visivo di John Boorman, non sarebbe andata lontano. Basta la scena passata alla storia come "dueling banjos" (anche se a duellare è un banjo soltanto, con una chitarra), sullo schermo è mozzafiato, sulla pagina ‘è ‘solo’ bella.
L’edizione italiana che ho letto salta agli occhi per la magistrale copertina, sicuramente frutto di studio articolato e approfondito: un canotto da rafting giustamente condotto da un equipaggio di almeno cinque membri, tutti in abbigliamento tecnico incluso il casco – mentre nel libro si tratta di due canoe, con due rematori a bordo ciascuna, e hanno molto poco di tecnico, a parte per certi versi Lewis – sulla copertina il tutto è inquadrato attraverso il mirino telescopico di un fucile di precisione, quando nel romanzo e nel film gli unici fucili che compaiono sono da caccia, generalmente doppiette. Geniale.
Il ruolo di una vita, letteralmente: Billy Redden ha fatto solo altri due film, due piccole apparizioni in veste, tanto per cambiare, di ‘banjo man’. In realtà, Redden non sapeva suonare il banjo: nel film c’è un altro ragazzo, esperto dello strumento, nascosto dietro la panchina, che ‘doppia’ il braccio del giovane suonatore.
Un fiume da scendere verso valle, anziché risalirlo verso la sorgente: eppure il Conrad di “Cuore di tenebra” è vicinissimo. La guerra in Vietnam è nell’aria, anche tra i boschi della Georgia. Dove abitano persone che avrebbero forse potuto sterminare Sharon Tate, proprio come la banda di Charles Manson, o uccidere i fratelli Kennedy, il reverendo King…
È un’America con meno certezze, minata dall’insicurezza, dal senso del pericolo, l’insidia è nell’aria: Lewis prevede un futuro prossimo post-apocalittico, ha già fatto costruire un rifugio antiatomico a casa sua, si prepara a un ritorno alla natura, sulle montagne, come i nostri antenati.
E il sogno finale di Ed è più che inquietante, proprio terrorizzante.
I protagonisti del libro (e del film) incontrano mostri e riconoscono la loro capacità di diventare mostri loro stessi, pur se giustificati dalla legittima difesa.
Il sogno finale di Ed, immagine di grande tensione.
Il romanzo di Dickey raccolse ottime recensioni alla sua uscita, e lo scrittore fu intervistato più volte, le vendite lo portarono a competere con libri campioni d’incasso dell’epoca quali “Love Story,” “Il padrino” e “La donna del tenente francese.”
Dickey inizio a scriverlo diversi anni prima della pubblicazione, e lo condì con le sue personali esperienze di canoa, tiro con l’arco, chitarra, i suoi anni da pubblicitario (elemento sparito nel film), il suo machismo (aspetto mitigato sullo schermo).
Ecco la scena con la battuta più celebre del film, “squeal like a pig”, frase che non compare nel libro e neppure nella sceneggiatura: fu il risultato di improvvisazione.
Il film non era ad alto budget (due milioni di dollari, credo): per questo le star auspicate non poterono partecipare. E per questo fu limitato l’uso degli stunt: sono gli stessi attori a simulare annegamento, a cadere nelle rapide, Jon Voight si arrampicò sulla parete, eccetera. Non per niente, Burt Reynolds riportò una lesione al coccige.
E sempre all’insegna del risparmio, fu assunta gente del posto per i piccoli ruoli, come quello del benzinaio, che durante la scena dei dwelling banjos si mise a ballare di sua iniziativa.
Dickey seguì la lavorazione del film passo per passo, cominciando con lo scrivere la sceneggiatura, finendo con il cammeo dello sceriffo. Sul set discuteva spesso con il regista, e una volta si presero a pugni e Boorman ne uscì col naso rotto e quattro denti spezzati. In seguito, però, i due divennero davvero amici, come nella migliore tradizione western (scazzottata e poi pacche sulle spalle).
A prescindere dal film, comunque, il romanzo ha vita a sé, è una lettura piacevole, un bel thriller, ben strutturato, insolito, precursore del genere survivor.
Da sinistra a destra: Ned Beatty, Burt Reynolds, Ronn, Jon Voight.
Il fiume Cahulawassee, nella Georgia settentrionale, nel romanzo, nel film fu girato sul fiume Chattooga, al confine tra Georgia e North Carolina. Dopo l’uscita del film si scatenò la voglia d’imitazione, e ci furono almeno 30 morti per annegamento.
Dickey scriveva principalmente poesie, questo è il suo prima romanzo, genere nel quale si cimentò solo un altro paio di volte.
Le sue poesie sono state paragonate al mitico “wall of sound” di Phil Spector, il produttore musicale altrettanto mitico.
[http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1745862/?ref _=nv_sr_1]: poesie che erano “walls of words”, stratificate, riverberate, imbottite di parole e suono (una delle più famose, “Falling”, descrive una hostess di 29 anni risucchiata da un jet in volo).
Con le poesie vinse il National Book Award e divenne poet laureat.
Ma per me, e per tanti, è noto soprattutto proprio per questo romanzo.
E il fatto, credo, lo si debba all’ottimo film che ne è stato tratto, che ha conservato lo stesso titolo del libro. Un film davvero superlativo che ha reso il romanzo intramontabile.
Al punto che, alla prima edizione, la traduzione italiana era Dove porta il fiume, per poi diventare identica a quella del titolo del film nella versione italiana, Un tranquillo weekend di paura.
Cast perfetto: Burt Rynolds al top della sua prestanza fisica non ancora sminuita dal ridicolo baffo che non ha più abbandonato dopo quel film; Jon Voigt in una fase di ristagno della carriera, dopo successi grandiosi e qualche passo falso; Ned Beatty, tenero ma irritante, e Ronny Cox prima che diventasse lo stereotipo del villain. Per i due protagonisti furono prima sentiti Sean Connery, Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, Lee Marvin, Donald Sutherland, James Stewart, Henry Fonda, Gene Hackman, Charlton Heston, tutti calibri da 90, alcuni decisamente troppo agée per il ruolo: per fortuna è andata come è andata. Dickey appare in un cammeo alla fine, nella parte dello sceriffo.
La sceneggiatura è opera dello stesso Dickey, ed è eccellente: per esempio, sui titoli di testa, mentre scorrono immagini del lavoro per la diga, si sentono le voci dei quattro che parlano al bar e pianificano il viaggio in canoa: non li si vede che più tardi, già in macchina diretti al fiume, ma con poche battute iniziali fuori campo sono riassunte pagine e pagine del libro in modo magistrale, e il pistolotto macho di Lewis è reso molto più accettabile e condivisibile.
Se però non avesse trovato il talento visivo di John Boorman, non sarebbe andata lontano. Basta la scena passata alla storia come "dueling banjos" (anche se a duellare è un banjo soltanto, con una chitarra), sullo schermo è mozzafiato, sulla pagina ‘è ‘solo’ bella.
L’edizione italiana che ho letto salta agli occhi per la magistrale copertina, sicuramente frutto di studio articolato e approfondito: un canotto da rafting giustamente condotto da un equipaggio di almeno cinque membri, tutti in abbigliamento tecnico incluso il casco – mentre nel libro si tratta di due canoe, con due rematori a bordo ciascuna, e hanno molto poco di tecnico, a parte per certi versi Lewis – sulla copertina il tutto è inquadrato attraverso il mirino telescopico di un fucile di precisione, quando nel romanzo e nel film gli unici fucili che compaiono sono da caccia, generalmente doppiette. Geniale.
Il ruolo di una vita, letteralmente: Billy Redden ha fatto solo altri due film, due piccole apparizioni in veste, tanto per cambiare, di ‘banjo man’. In realtà, Redden non sapeva suonare il banjo: nel film c’è un altro ragazzo, esperto dello strumento, nascosto dietro la panchina, che ‘doppia’ il braccio del giovane suonatore.
Un fiume da scendere verso valle, anziché risalirlo verso la sorgente: eppure il Conrad di “Cuore di tenebra” è vicinissimo. La guerra in Vietnam è nell’aria, anche tra i boschi della Georgia. Dove abitano persone che avrebbero forse potuto sterminare Sharon Tate, proprio come la banda di Charles Manson, o uccidere i fratelli Kennedy, il reverendo King…
È un’America con meno certezze, minata dall’insicurezza, dal senso del pericolo, l’insidia è nell’aria: Lewis prevede un futuro prossimo post-apocalittico, ha già fatto costruire un rifugio antiatomico a casa sua, si prepara a un ritorno alla natura, sulle montagne, come i nostri antenati.
E il sogno finale di Ed è più che inquietante, proprio terrorizzante.
I protagonisti del libro (e del film) incontrano mostri e riconoscono la loro capacità di diventare mostri loro stessi, pur se giustificati dalla legittima difesa.
Il sogno finale di Ed, immagine di grande tensione.
Il romanzo di Dickey raccolse ottime recensioni alla sua uscita, e lo scrittore fu intervistato più volte, le vendite lo portarono a competere con libri campioni d’incasso dell’epoca quali “Love Story,” “Il padrino” e “La donna del tenente francese.”
Dickey inizio a scriverlo diversi anni prima della pubblicazione, e lo condì con le sue personali esperienze di canoa, tiro con l’arco, chitarra, i suoi anni da pubblicitario (elemento sparito nel film), il suo machismo (aspetto mitigato sullo schermo).
Ecco la scena con la battuta più celebre del film, “squeal like a pig”, frase che non compare nel libro e neppure nella sceneggiatura: fu il risultato di improvvisazione.
Il film non era ad alto budget (due milioni di dollari, credo): per questo le star auspicate non poterono partecipare. E per questo fu limitato l’uso degli stunt: sono gli stessi attori a simulare annegamento, a cadere nelle rapide, Jon Voight si arrampicò sulla parete, eccetera. Non per niente, Burt Reynolds riportò una lesione al coccige.
E sempre all’insegna del risparmio, fu assunta gente del posto per i piccoli ruoli, come quello del benzinaio, che durante la scena dei dwelling banjos si mise a ballare di sua iniziativa.
Dickey seguì la lavorazione del film passo per passo, cominciando con lo scrivere la sceneggiatura, finendo con il cammeo dello sceriffo. Sul set discuteva spesso con il regista, e una volta si presero a pugni e Boorman ne uscì col naso rotto e quattro denti spezzati. In seguito, però, i due divennero davvero amici, come nella migliore tradizione western (scazzottata e poi pacche sulle spalle).
A prescindere dal film, comunque, il romanzo ha vita a sé, è una lettura piacevole, un bel thriller, ben strutturato, insolito, precursore del genere survivor.
Da sinistra a destra: Ned Beatty, Burt Reynolds, Ronn, Jon Voight.
December 20, 2015
Posted at Shelf Inflicted
I saw this twice, once in the late 80’s and again in 1996, shortly after my husband and I got married. I loved the movie both times I saw it, even though my husband found it utterly boring and not nearly as thrilling as Southern Comfort. Over time, the scenes that stood out the most for me were the dueling banjos and the hillbilly rape.
Right after reading the book, I watched the movie a third time. The first thing I noticed was that the film was quite faithful to the book. There were significant differences, of course, mostly with the character of Ed Gentry. The book was told entirely by him, not just the events that occurred following Ed and his friends’ preparation for their remote white-water adventure, but his thoughts about work (too much), his family (too little), and his feelings about life which bordered on the too philosophical.
“The studio was full of gray affable men who had tried it in New York and come back South to live and die. They were competent, though we demanded no very high standard from them, and when they weren’t working at layouts and paste-ups they would sit tilted back from the drawing board with their hands behind their heads, gazing at whatever same thing was there.”
Yawn….let’s face it, most people’s jobs are boring. Unless you’re in a creative profession of some sort, or a circus clown, I’m not that interested in reading the nitty-gritty of people’s jobs. Really, it’s enough for me to know that you work (or not).
Then again, the reader needs to get a glimpse of this humdrum aspect of the men’s lives. It contrasts so sharply with their wilderness adventure, the remote landscape, the feats of strength, and the strong bonds of men trying to survive.
This was written in 1970, so I understand that men were the primary breadwinners and work was a large measure of their success, while women earned less than half their salaries and were encouraged to take secretarial classes rather than pursue more lucrative business careers.
“The women were almost all secretaries and file clerks, young and semi-young and middle-aged, and their hair styles, piled and shellacked and swirled and horned, and almost every one stiff, filled me with desolation. I kept looking for a decent ass and spotted one in a beige skirt, but when the girl turned her barren, gum-chewing face toward me, it was all over.”
If you can get past the blatant sexism and the dated feel, this is a really good story that explores in depth the wild and unpredictable nature of man and environment. I loved the vivid descriptions of the harsh and beautiful landscape, the turbulent water, and the enormous physical challenges undertaken by Ed and his companions. The character descriptions were rather sketchy, but this is not a book so much about people’s lives, but how they deal with adversity. There is a strong sense of camaraderie here, no wishy-washy feelings or sentimentality. This is a brutal, harrowing story that drags at times, while at other times I wanted more.
It is well worth reading and an excellent film too.
September 5, 2017
A masterpiece of lyrical, intense writing. When I think of the old writing admonition "make haste, slowly," I think of this book, because the plot is riveting and tense and yet it all unfurls with a measured deliberation, with great care in the writing that transforms it from a potboiler to something far more beautiful. There are so many arresting sentences here. I've cracked the book at random to highlight just a couple (and I don't think they'll spoil anything since they're devoid of context):
"I knew it was not a game, and yet, whenever I could, I glanced at the corpse to see if it would come out of the phony trance it was in, and stand up and shake hands all around, someone new we'd met in the woods, who could give us some idea where we were. But the head kept dropping back, and we kept having to keep it up, clear of the weeds and briars, so that we could go wherever we were going with it."
"I knew it was not a game, and yet, whenever I could, I glanced at the corpse to see if it would come out of the phony trance it was in, and stand up and shake hands all around, someone new we'd met in the woods, who could give us some idea where we were. But the head kept dropping back, and we kept having to keep it up, clear of the weeds and briars, so that we could go wherever we were going with it."
December 13, 2023
The End of Conscience
Ah. This book. Famous for its movie. (In which the author had a speaking part as the tough local sheriff)
They go into the wilderness of the American South to paddle one of the last unspoiled rivers. They are set upon by locals and at least one of the men is molested. Some of them then seek the path of vengeance against the locals.
So the book becomes a question of conscience - can it be ignored and overridden? And if it can, does that mean any action is possible by civilized man? Are a good conscience, mercy and equanimity simply a veneer over nature red in fang and claw?
In a way, Deliverance is a spin on Lord of the Flies, just coming at it from a slightly different direction. There is even a man who has retained good conscience among them who speaks out about their plans for retribution. But they use his love for democracy to call for a vote and the majority vote is against him.
How thick or how thin is human conscience and good will?
Ah. This book. Famous for its movie. (In which the author had a speaking part as the tough local sheriff)
They go into the wilderness of the American South to paddle one of the last unspoiled rivers. They are set upon by locals and at least one of the men is molested. Some of them then seek the path of vengeance against the locals.
So the book becomes a question of conscience - can it be ignored and overridden? And if it can, does that mean any action is possible by civilized man? Are a good conscience, mercy and equanimity simply a veneer over nature red in fang and claw?
In a way, Deliverance is a spin on Lord of the Flies, just coming at it from a slightly different direction. There is even a man who has retained good conscience among them who speaks out about their plans for retribution. But they use his love for democracy to call for a vote and the majority vote is against him.
How thick or how thin is human conscience and good will?
September 17, 2015
Only men would think it is a good idea to go canoeing into the jungle wilderness of Georgia. If this novel were female driven it would have been about two pages long because no woman would stand for its sheer bravado-driven ridiculousness.
So four guys so canoeing in Georgia and things go wrong. They go really, really wrong. Deliverance is testosterone personified. It is a novel about men but ultimately it is an ode to masculinity. It harks back to the adventure novels that little boys would read and plays with this sense of adventure. It lures the characters, and ultimately the reader, into this intense, sweaty, oppressive forest. The men flow through the jungle but also the jungle flows through the men. As we watch everything slowly descending into sheer chaos and brutality, we feel helpless. You may not know it but you are also on the canoe and you better start paddling.
Deliverance offers no deliverance. The bitter irony of its title is but one of many cruel fates that the reader has to witness. The novel is depraved, but in its depravity it shows us life. The lives of these men, their decisions whether they be just or not and, ultimately, their fates. You journey with these men into the bowels of hell.
So four guys so canoeing in Georgia and things go wrong. They go really, really wrong. Deliverance is testosterone personified. It is a novel about men but ultimately it is an ode to masculinity. It harks back to the adventure novels that little boys would read and plays with this sense of adventure. It lures the characters, and ultimately the reader, into this intense, sweaty, oppressive forest. The men flow through the jungle but also the jungle flows through the men. As we watch everything slowly descending into sheer chaos and brutality, we feel helpless. You may not know it but you are also on the canoe and you better start paddling.
Deliverance offers no deliverance. The bitter irony of its title is but one of many cruel fates that the reader has to witness. The novel is depraved, but in its depravity it shows us life. The lives of these men, their decisions whether they be just or not and, ultimately, their fates. You journey with these men into the bowels of hell.
August 6, 2015
Few novelists have claimed such an epic success with their debut novel as James Dickey did with his dramatically brilliant thriller Deliverance, set in the remote North Georgia wilderness. Dickey, who was already an accomplished poet renowned for his surrealism and eye for primal impulses prevailing in the human society, wrote ‘Deliverance’ in 1970 and it has been since regarded among the best English novels of 20th century. The book was adapted into a movie in 1972 starring Burt Reynolds and Jon Voight and it was a blockbuster. For me both the movie and the novel where equally thrilling.
This is James Dickey’s study on the lingering elements of primitive urges and primal instincts for survival, which is hidden asleep in even the most civilized of human beings. He generates dangerous situations within his narrative as test cases to inspect how law-abiding human beings shed their veil of being civilized in response to mortal threats in settings where the common laws of civilization and morality cease to exist. This white-water ride of an adventure begins when four middle-aged city dwellers - Ed Gentry a graphic artist, Bobby Trippe an insurance agent, Drew Ballinger a business executive and Lewis Medlock an outdoorsman - feeling stagnated with their personal & professional life decides to take a canoeing trip down a river valley in the remote wilderness of north Georgia. The book takes the form of first person narration with Ed Gentry describing the scenery and happenings of their adventure.
From his own words, which show his dissatisfaction with his day job and his longing for writing pieces of artistic value, we can perceive that Dickey gave shape to the character of Ed Gentry roughly based on his own discontent career in advertising. In the total isolation of the wilderness they soon start to rethink about their quest for freedom and adventure as they initially find it difficult to adjust to the survivalist mentality required in the outdoors. The adventure takes a nasty turn for the travelers when they encounter two mountain men and soon the reader will be taken through narrations bursting with sheer rapids of violence, quest for survival, tragedy, moral dilemmas and transformation of civilized humans beings into their primal form of hunters. To give a fair warning to those who want to read ‘Deliverance’ with out giving any of spoilers, I need to say that some of the scenes in the book are quite disturbing for even readers with a high threshold for descriptions of violence.
One of the plus points that make the novel more engaging is the descriptions of the surroundings in which this pure adventure happens. James Dickey really shines in creating a crisp image of the ruthless and beautiful landscapes surrounding the boiling waters of the fictional Cahulawassee River and north Georgia wilderness on the readers mental canvas to such an extent that the arduous physical and mental challenges that the characters confront with in the narration virtually engulfs the reader. James Dickey’s numerous canoeing & bow-hunting trips to the wilderness of Georgia and the insights on the territory that he had gained from his own and from other fellow companions experiences really make these narratives more enjoyable.
I read this for the first time 15 or 16 years back and the picture of the harsh wilderness that James Dickey describes with it’s high tension drama is still alive in my memory. This is a fast moving thriller, which will totally absorb you as a reader with its raw narrations of brutal action set in a primitive backdrop. Highly recommended for lovers of engaging thrillers. If you are easily offended by descriptions of violence in a fiction then it will be prudent to stay away from ‘Deliverance’.
Actual Rating: 4.5/5
This is James Dickey’s study on the lingering elements of primitive urges and primal instincts for survival, which is hidden asleep in even the most civilized of human beings. He generates dangerous situations within his narrative as test cases to inspect how law-abiding human beings shed their veil of being civilized in response to mortal threats in settings where the common laws of civilization and morality cease to exist. This white-water ride of an adventure begins when four middle-aged city dwellers - Ed Gentry a graphic artist, Bobby Trippe an insurance agent, Drew Ballinger a business executive and Lewis Medlock an outdoorsman - feeling stagnated with their personal & professional life decides to take a canoeing trip down a river valley in the remote wilderness of north Georgia. The book takes the form of first person narration with Ed Gentry describing the scenery and happenings of their adventure.
"I was selling my soul to the devil all day... and trying to buy it back at night."
From his own words, which show his dissatisfaction with his day job and his longing for writing pieces of artistic value, we can perceive that Dickey gave shape to the character of Ed Gentry roughly based on his own discontent career in advertising. In the total isolation of the wilderness they soon start to rethink about their quest for freedom and adventure as they initially find it difficult to adjust to the survivalist mentality required in the outdoors. The adventure takes a nasty turn for the travelers when they encounter two mountain men and soon the reader will be taken through narrations bursting with sheer rapids of violence, quest for survival, tragedy, moral dilemmas and transformation of civilized humans beings into their primal form of hunters. To give a fair warning to those who want to read ‘Deliverance’ with out giving any of spoilers, I need to say that some of the scenes in the book are quite disturbing for even readers with a high threshold for descriptions of violence.
One of the plus points that make the novel more engaging is the descriptions of the surroundings in which this pure adventure happens. James Dickey really shines in creating a crisp image of the ruthless and beautiful landscapes surrounding the boiling waters of the fictional Cahulawassee River and north Georgia wilderness on the readers mental canvas to such an extent that the arduous physical and mental challenges that the characters confront with in the narration virtually engulfs the reader. James Dickey’s numerous canoeing & bow-hunting trips to the wilderness of Georgia and the insights on the territory that he had gained from his own and from other fellow companions experiences really make these narratives more enjoyable.
I read this for the first time 15 or 16 years back and the picture of the harsh wilderness that James Dickey describes with it’s high tension drama is still alive in my memory. This is a fast moving thriller, which will totally absorb you as a reader with its raw narrations of brutal action set in a primitive backdrop. Highly recommended for lovers of engaging thrillers. If you are easily offended by descriptions of violence in a fiction then it will be prudent to stay away from ‘Deliverance’.
Actual Rating: 4.5/5
September 1, 2022
This was a pretty good story. I enjoyed how it started out as a weekend of male bonding for a group of friends. However, their journey turned into a suspenseful nightmare as their outing became violently sidetracked. The ordinary turned into a survival story of uncertainty, looming fear and danger, and the determination to make it. The story was told from the perspectice of Ed (Jon Voigt's character) in first-person. The author built the characters, their mannerisms, their personalities, and their interactions well enough to pace the story along.
"Kill him," Lewis said with the river.
"I'll kill him if I can find him," I said.
"Well," he said, lying back, "here we are, at the heart of Lewis Medlock country."
"Pure survival," I said.
"This is what it comes to," he said. pg 160
Overall this was a quick and good read. I would recomend it if you have seen and enjoyed the movie. The 1972 movie pretty much followed the plot from the book with some minor adjustment but stayed on course. Thanks!
June 15, 2024
Four, almost five stars. This is a great book. Excellent suspense, character development, good realistic approach to an unusual situation.
Everyone knows the plot, and I am probably alone in not having seen the movie (but I will).
The book is story of four aging, city men who head to the wilderness to canoe down a wild river - basically to do it because they can (or should) before a dam is completed, flooding the valley. By wilderness, I mean the mountains, hick country. Two of the men are bow-hunters (the narrator is less a bow-hunter than a bow-practicer), and they plan to hunt and camp, drink some and have a manly time. They end up having a more manly time than expected, in more ways than expected.
Anyhow, the books reads well - it has a 'Before' then a chapter each for the three days of the trip, then an 'After'. It just comes across as a well organised, well thought through book. One I will probably return to again (likely after viewing the movie).
OK just changed it to five stars. Whats not to like, from the transition from Ed's boring office life to being a man of action, to the obvious faults in the main characters, to the excellent speech of the lawmen and locals at the end
Everyone knows the plot, and I am probably alone in not having seen the movie (but I will).
The book is story of four aging, city men who head to the wilderness to canoe down a wild river - basically to do it because they can (or should) before a dam is completed, flooding the valley. By wilderness, I mean the mountains, hick country. Two of the men are bow-hunters (the narrator is less a bow-hunter than a bow-practicer), and they plan to hunt and camp, drink some and have a manly time. They end up having a more manly time than expected, in more ways than expected.
Anyhow, the books reads well - it has a 'Before' then a chapter each for the three days of the trip, then an 'After'. It just comes across as a well organised, well thought through book. One I will probably return to again (likely after viewing the movie).
OK just changed it to five stars. Whats not to like, from the transition from Ed's boring office life to being a man of action, to the obvious faults in the main characters, to the excellent speech of the lawmen and locals at the end
July 12, 2011
Wow. I've been talking about Deliverance to all my friends, who all roll their eyes at me, because I haven't seen the movie.
This was one of the best books I've read this year. The writing is documentary style, but surprisingly lyrical. It's told from a single point of view, and works so well for description, mood, suspense, I absolutely loved it.
Am I the only person in the world who hasn't seen the movie? I'm familiar with the two most talked-about scenes. The banjo scene was beautifully written, and the rape is brutal in its simplicity.
I think that was the best quality of Deliverance - the simplicity. Everything except the country is told in a stripped down, journalistic style, but the river country they travel through, is a fully-realized character on its own. The narrator rambles. He tells what they did in little bits. But he describes what he sees in long panoramas, framed by his designer vision, like a layout for one of his magazine spreads.
I was prepared to be disappointed, having read several books lately that seemed as though they had been written just to be an easy screenplay. This novel demands to be filmed, and you just hope that it gets done by somebody who can do it justice. I suppose I'll have to watch it, just to see if it happened. Wikipedia tells me: "In 2008, Deliverance was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being 'culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.'" One can hope that means they succeeded.
This was one of the best books I've read this year. The writing is documentary style, but surprisingly lyrical. It's told from a single point of view, and works so well for description, mood, suspense, I absolutely loved it.
Am I the only person in the world who hasn't seen the movie? I'm familiar with the two most talked-about scenes. The banjo scene was beautifully written, and the rape is brutal in its simplicity.
I think that was the best quality of Deliverance - the simplicity. Everything except the country is told in a stripped down, journalistic style, but the river country they travel through, is a fully-realized character on its own. The narrator rambles. He tells what they did in little bits. But he describes what he sees in long panoramas, framed by his designer vision, like a layout for one of his magazine spreads.
I was prepared to be disappointed, having read several books lately that seemed as though they had been written just to be an easy screenplay. This novel demands to be filmed, and you just hope that it gets done by somebody who can do it justice. I suppose I'll have to watch it, just to see if it happened. Wikipedia tells me: "In 2008, Deliverance was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being 'culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.'" One can hope that means they succeeded.
May 22, 2020
Deliverance by James Dickey was a book that really took me by surprise. Outside of my comfort zone Deliverance tells the story of four men closing in on middle age and looking for a little adventure take to the remote white waster river in the Georgia wilderness with two canoes. The adventure turns to a nightmare and a struggle for survival.
I honestly had never heard of this book and for me this was a challenge as I don't read adventure stories. This was a brilliant and breath taking adventure and the prose is raw and imaginative and I found myself in the midst the rocks and rapids, the beauty of the wild and the terror and violence that was so real it had me exclaiming out loud.
The characters are real and extremely well drawn and I really enjoyed reading the character of Ed and experiencing the journey through his eyes.
This was a great read but is not going to be everyone's cup of tea. Its a short novel and extremely well written and I am so glad I read it. I just found out that it is also a movie so look forward to that now I have read the book.
I honestly had never heard of this book and for me this was a challenge as I don't read adventure stories. This was a brilliant and breath taking adventure and the prose is raw and imaginative and I found myself in the midst the rocks and rapids, the beauty of the wild and the terror and violence that was so real it had me exclaiming out loud.
The characters are real and extremely well drawn and I really enjoyed reading the character of Ed and experiencing the journey through his eyes.
This was a great read but is not going to be everyone's cup of tea. Its a short novel and extremely well written and I am so glad I read it. I just found out that it is also a movie so look forward to that now I have read the book.
February 8, 2017
Deliverance is a book about wilderness and survival. Maybe, not the way you would generally imagine a wilderness -vs- survival meeting (no spoilers here) but none-the-less, survival in the truest sense. This novel was
very well written, extremely fluent and flowing.
very well written, extremely fluent and flowing.
April 22, 2025
2025/05
Modern Library 100 Best Novels (42/100)
This year I haven't focused on one of my goals I started in 2024: to read all books included in the top 100 Best Novels published during the 20th century, made by Modern Library. I genuinely don't remember when the last time I picked up a book included in the list was, but there is probably a long gap between that book and Deliverance. Speaking of which, my experience with this novel was very different from the others I had before, especially when it comes to how readable and straightforward it is.
Overall, Deliverance introduces the reader to what seems to be a peaceful getaway with friends, an escapade that promises to be exciting yet safe and normal. Nature awaits our protagonist and three of his friends on this adventure, although it won't be the only thing they will come across. And that's when the action begins.
As far as the books in this list go—based on my reading experience so far—they tend to be cooked slowly narrative-wise, but this novel, on the other hand, doesn't let you breathe one moment, and the pace is as fast as it gets. No sooner have you finished reading one chapter than you find yourself vigorously reading the next one, and in that way until the end of the book. Yes, I finished it in two sittings, and there are no regrets at all.
In terms of the story, it somewhat reminded me of Lord of the Flies and Heart of Darkness, not because they have similar plots or their structure is alike, but because you constantly get an ominous atmosphere in its pages. The more you read, the bleaker it gets. It also resembles a thriller film almost entirely; movies such as Cape Fear (1962) and No Country for Old Men (2007)—in this case both novel and adaptation—came to mind while reading Deliverance, even the first and only worth watching film in the Predator franchise with Arnold Schwarzenegger, and only after knowing that James Dickey had a lot to do with its adaptation—he wrote the screenplay—that came out only two years after he published the book, it all made sense.
All in all, I wouldn't put Deliverance among my favorite books though, probably not even among the first 50 best novels written during the last century. Sorry Modern Library—agree to disagree. I was telling my friend J., with whom I buddy read this, that Modern Library wasn't being entirely fair when they came up with 100 books since they left behind authors such as Toni Morrison or Cormac McCarthy and authors like Virginia Woolf or Willa Cather only have one book in the entire list. I digress.
Deliverance is worth visiting, and as I said before, it is a quick and easy read—a well-written book with some deep passages that invite us to reflect on humanity and morality.
My rating on a scale of 1 to 5:
Quality of writing [4/5]
Pace [5/5]
Plot development [4/5]
Characters [4/5]
Enjoyability [4/5]
Insightfulness [4/5]
Easy of reading [5/5]
Photos/Illustrations [N/A]
Total [30/7] = 4.28
Modern Library 100 Best Novels (42/100)
This year I haven't focused on one of my goals I started in 2024: to read all books included in the top 100 Best Novels published during the 20th century, made by Modern Library. I genuinely don't remember when the last time I picked up a book included in the list was, but there is probably a long gap between that book and Deliverance. Speaking of which, my experience with this novel was very different from the others I had before, especially when it comes to how readable and straightforward it is.
Overall, Deliverance introduces the reader to what seems to be a peaceful getaway with friends, an escapade that promises to be exciting yet safe and normal. Nature awaits our protagonist and three of his friends on this adventure, although it won't be the only thing they will come across. And that's when the action begins.
As far as the books in this list go—based on my reading experience so far—they tend to be cooked slowly narrative-wise, but this novel, on the other hand, doesn't let you breathe one moment, and the pace is as fast as it gets. No sooner have you finished reading one chapter than you find yourself vigorously reading the next one, and in that way until the end of the book. Yes, I finished it in two sittings, and there are no regrets at all.
In terms of the story, it somewhat reminded me of Lord of the Flies and Heart of Darkness, not because they have similar plots or their structure is alike, but because you constantly get an ominous atmosphere in its pages. The more you read, the bleaker it gets. It also resembles a thriller film almost entirely; movies such as Cape Fear (1962) and No Country for Old Men (2007)—in this case both novel and adaptation—came to mind while reading Deliverance, even the first and only worth watching film in the Predator franchise with Arnold Schwarzenegger, and only after knowing that James Dickey had a lot to do with its adaptation—he wrote the screenplay—that came out only two years after he published the book, it all made sense.
All in all, I wouldn't put Deliverance among my favorite books though, probably not even among the first 50 best novels written during the last century. Sorry Modern Library—agree to disagree. I was telling my friend J., with whom I buddy read this, that Modern Library wasn't being entirely fair when they came up with 100 books since they left behind authors such as Toni Morrison or Cormac McCarthy and authors like Virginia Woolf or Willa Cather only have one book in the entire list. I digress.
Deliverance is worth visiting, and as I said before, it is a quick and easy read—a well-written book with some deep passages that invite us to reflect on humanity and morality.
My rating on a scale of 1 to 5:
Quality of writing [4/5]
Pace [5/5]
Plot development [4/5]
Characters [4/5]
Enjoyability [4/5]
Insightfulness [4/5]
Easy of reading [5/5]
Photos/Illustrations [N/A]
Total [30/7] = 4.28
September 4, 2023
THE BOYS!
That’s the only phrase that would come to mind for almost the entirety of this book. It is deeply masculine, at once confronting us with the vulnerability of being a man in the modern age (modern in the sense of a strict comparison to nomadic times), as well as the vulnerability of being a man in general. A boys’ canoe trip in deep, deep Georgia puts me on edge. I’m a city kid through and through. At first, I would be thinking about where I am sleeping, what I’m eating, and where the toilet is. Then, I would be thinking about the fact that none of the habits that I have built up in my life are applicable in the world of nature (as Ed Gentry realizes in the book). There is a time and a place for civility, and nature strips you of both of those.
I picked this one up randomly and was not expecting anything that happened in it to happen. That’s rare these days, and I was wildly entertained. From 20 or so pages in until the very last page, I was hooked. Honest to god, I could not even pick out a single climax from this narrative. Something wild would happen, then something even wilder. And then, before you had time to catch your breath, you were flying again. What a beautiful reminder of the joys of reading and a carefully constructed narrative by a master, and so many examples of beautiful writing, like the following:
That’s the only phrase that would come to mind for almost the entirety of this book. It is deeply masculine, at once confronting us with the vulnerability of being a man in the modern age (modern in the sense of a strict comparison to nomadic times), as well as the vulnerability of being a man in general. A boys’ canoe trip in deep, deep Georgia puts me on edge. I’m a city kid through and through. At first, I would be thinking about where I am sleeping, what I’m eating, and where the toilet is. Then, I would be thinking about the fact that none of the habits that I have built up in my life are applicable in the world of nature (as Ed Gentry realizes in the book). There is a time and a place for civility, and nature strips you of both of those.
I picked this one up randomly and was not expecting anything that happened in it to happen. That’s rare these days, and I was wildly entertained. From 20 or so pages in until the very last page, I was hooked. Honest to god, I could not even pick out a single climax from this narrative. Something wild would happen, then something even wilder. And then, before you had time to catch your breath, you were flying again. What a beautiful reminder of the joys of reading and a carefully constructed narrative by a master, and so many examples of beautiful writing, like the following:
I touched the knife hilt at my side, and remembered that all men were once boys, and that boys are always looking for ways to become men. Some of the ways are easy, too; all you have to do is be satisfied that it has happened.
January 28, 2022
Three squares led by a survivalist, head to rural America in search of adventure. They get more than they bargained for. But in the process, some of them become better men. Deliverance is one of the best survival novels of all time. It is amazing how American novels speak to the whole world. They speak everyone's language and appeal to people from all cultures. I am sure readers from all earth alienated cultures would be able to identify with Deliverance.
It is a really entertaining novel once the narrators tone changes from that of an irritating middle class pussy who is in awe of the canoe trip and the river to one of a self assured man who is going to hold his own and survive in nature. The first half of the novel was a bit of a slog because Dickey overemphasizes the inadequacy of Ed Gentry (the narrator) and his feeling of awe for Lewis (Ed's ultra masculine friend and leader of the group) almost as if he is a little kid looking up to his father.
After Lewis is severely injured when their boat overturns, Ed takes up responsibility for the groups safety almost with a feeling of glee. It is almost as if Ed is a cunning character who waited for "shit to hit the fan" so that he could show what a tough guy he was. That's just the impression that I got. Maybe there is a bit of a sadist in all of us, who fantasizes about taking over from the alpha male. The path to manhood is filled with malevolence and treachery.
It is a really entertaining novel once the narrators tone changes from that of an irritating middle class pussy who is in awe of the canoe trip and the river to one of a self assured man who is going to hold his own and survive in nature. The first half of the novel was a bit of a slog because Dickey overemphasizes the inadequacy of Ed Gentry (the narrator) and his feeling of awe for Lewis (Ed's ultra masculine friend and leader of the group) almost as if he is a little kid looking up to his father.
After Lewis is severely injured when their boat overturns, Ed takes up responsibility for the groups safety almost with a feeling of glee. It is almost as if Ed is a cunning character who waited for "shit to hit the fan" so that he could show what a tough guy he was. That's just the impression that I got. Maybe there is a bit of a sadist in all of us, who fantasizes about taking over from the alpha male. The path to manhood is filled with malevolence and treachery.
October 21, 2018
The one about the city folk getting lost in the woods and subsequently raped/hunted. Confession: I have never seen the film. I know its a big deal, but all I am ever faced with are the edited-for-TV sections (on TV) of the pig squeal and the torment-heavy megaambiance. The bromance comes to a thunderous halt as the friends try to makes sense of it all and desire desperately to come out alive.
It is, I will admit, pretty full of those literary premonitions any horror novel worth its salt would contain. But, when, EVER, has the climax happened way BEFORE the last page? It occurs, SPOILER!/whatever: at around page 200. Then there's like 80 more pages (oh anticlimax supreme), & it seems like a wee uneven, especially for a tale that's not all that unconventional. Ah, you and I can find this in the elusive "MEDIOCRELIT.-BEGETTING-UNFORGETTABLE-CINEMA" category next to Oscar winning "Ordinary People" (the Judith Guest novel is hella skipable and lame) and "Bridges of Madison County" (this is the lowest of the low) & "Up In the Air", as well as non-Oscar perennial favorite "I Know What You Did Last Summer"...
It is, I will admit, pretty full of those literary premonitions any horror novel worth its salt would contain. But, when, EVER, has the climax happened way BEFORE the last page? It occurs, SPOILER!/whatever: at around page 200. Then there's like 80 more pages (oh anticlimax supreme), & it seems like a wee uneven, especially for a tale that's not all that unconventional. Ah, you and I can find this in the elusive "MEDIOCRELIT.-BEGETTING-UNFORGETTABLE-CINEMA" category next to Oscar winning "Ordinary People" (the Judith Guest novel is hella skipable and lame) and "Bridges of Madison County" (this is the lowest of the low) & "Up In the Air", as well as non-Oscar perennial favorite "I Know What You Did Last Summer"...
July 15, 2019
Woo hoo, my last book of 2016, and boy was it a doozy! What a fantastic way to end the year. :)
This book is about 4 suburban men who spend the weekend river rafting and hunting deep within the mountains of Georgia. They meet some hillbillies, horrible things happen, and then they spend the rest of the weekend in a race to survive the brutal elements of the wilderness, as well as trying to survive against enemies who were born and raised in those mountains. The enemies have the advantage of knowing the river, woods and mountains like the back of their hand.
I could wax philosophical about the underlying meanings of this book: man versus nature, alpha males, the primal instinct to survive at all costs, the shame that accompanies the fear of death in masculine souls (especially when witnessed by other men). Oh, and the biggie: how emasculation or the fetishization of emasculation is the root cause of every single sexual dysfunction or sexually deviant and repugnant behavior in the entire world.
But I won't, because that would take too long. We could spend days discussing this book, and the ideas behind it, so let's skip that altogether.
James Dickey's prose was simple and to the point, and I love him for that! It caused the story to provide such vivid imagery. I felt like I was right there, like I could feel the Cahulawassee River raging around the men whenever it felt like it.
What a ride this book is, especially with the suspense it offers, and the superb way Dickey shows just how vulnerable we are to nature and the unknown, and how we're at the mercy of other people.
Luckily, most people are decent. At least for now.
This book is about 4 suburban men who spend the weekend river rafting and hunting deep within the mountains of Georgia. They meet some hillbillies, horrible things happen, and then they spend the rest of the weekend in a race to survive the brutal elements of the wilderness, as well as trying to survive against enemies who were born and raised in those mountains. The enemies have the advantage of knowing the river, woods and mountains like the back of their hand.
I could wax philosophical about the underlying meanings of this book: man versus nature, alpha males, the primal instinct to survive at all costs, the shame that accompanies the fear of death in masculine souls (especially when witnessed by other men). Oh, and the biggie: how emasculation or the fetishization of emasculation is the root cause of every single sexual dysfunction or sexually deviant and repugnant behavior in the entire world.
But I won't, because that would take too long. We could spend days discussing this book, and the ideas behind it, so let's skip that altogether.
James Dickey's prose was simple and to the point, and I love him for that! It caused the story to provide such vivid imagery. I felt like I was right there, like I could feel the Cahulawassee River raging around the men whenever it felt like it.
What a ride this book is, especially with the suspense it offers, and the superb way Dickey shows just how vulnerable we are to nature and the unknown, and how we're at the mercy of other people.
Luckily, most people are decent. At least for now.
December 4, 2024
(3.5) Let me be honest. I might be the only southern male in my age range (mid 40's) who has never seen the movie for Deliverance all the way through. I may have seen a short clip here and there, but not enough to really grasp something other than "these guys go out in the woods for a new experience and get more than they bargained for".
Needless to say, Dickey's descriptive prose of the outdoors was very sharp and enjoyable. His reasoning that certain characteristics arise in a person when put into a specific situation, ala Darwin, was drawn out effortlessly, yet I can't say that I truly enjoyed the eventual outcome.
Some questions I have after reading:
Is vigilantism justified in every situation?
Are morals propelled aside if pushed over the edge, and if so, is there a gray area involved?
Were these southern stereotypes necessarily exaggerated in the 1970's and are they still today?
I can see how and why this was made into a big movie at the time and it seems as though it was written for that purpose. Bottom line: good prose, interesting character development, but not completely believable. Still a solid book.
Needless to say, Dickey's descriptive prose of the outdoors was very sharp and enjoyable. His reasoning that certain characteristics arise in a person when put into a specific situation, ala Darwin, was drawn out effortlessly, yet I can't say that I truly enjoyed the eventual outcome.
Some questions I have after reading:
Is vigilantism justified in every situation?
Are morals propelled aside if pushed over the edge, and if so, is there a gray area involved?
Were these southern stereotypes necessarily exaggerated in the 1970's and are they still today?
I can see how and why this was made into a big movie at the time and it seems as though it was written for that purpose. Bottom line: good prose, interesting character development, but not completely believable. Still a solid book.
January 7, 2015
First of the year and what a first, a simple, totally gripping story that resonates with power. Will Patton's narration puts you on that river, in that tree sighting the arrow with one shot at survival and this gets my highest recommendation.
Told in first person through the eyes of Ed Gentry, who with three friends attempts a breakout from suburbia with a canoe and hunting trip. Naïve, lacking the skills needed to survive, maybe but things don’t get any easier when they are approached on the riverbank by two men, one with a gun, and the other with a knife. Coupled with a river that takes no prisoners and a tension that borders on breathtaking at times, all described with a prose and dialogue that imposes every single word on your consciousness.
This is a quote from one of the most riveting scenes in the story, both sighting that arrow and getting in the position to be able to do just that, their lives depending on this very moment.
‘But mainly I was amazed at my situation. Just rather dumbly amazed. It was harder to imagine myself in a tree, like this, than it was to reach out and touch the bark or the needles and know that I was actually in one, in the middle of the night–or somewhere in the night–miles back in the woods, waiting to try and kill a man I had seen only once in my life. Nobody in the world knows where I am, I thought. I put tension on the bowstring, and the arrow came back a little. Who would believe it, I said, with no breath; who on earth?’
If you listen to audio, you have to get this, it’s absolutely one of the best audiobooks and stories that I've listened to. Just over 7 and 1/2 hours and I will definitely reread/re-listen to this, it is that good. And yes I did enjoy it as you can guess.
Also posted at http://paulnelson.booklikes.com/post/...
Told in first person through the eyes of Ed Gentry, who with three friends attempts a breakout from suburbia with a canoe and hunting trip. Naïve, lacking the skills needed to survive, maybe but things don’t get any easier when they are approached on the riverbank by two men, one with a gun, and the other with a knife. Coupled with a river that takes no prisoners and a tension that borders on breathtaking at times, all described with a prose and dialogue that imposes every single word on your consciousness.
This is a quote from one of the most riveting scenes in the story, both sighting that arrow and getting in the position to be able to do just that, their lives depending on this very moment.
‘But mainly I was amazed at my situation. Just rather dumbly amazed. It was harder to imagine myself in a tree, like this, than it was to reach out and touch the bark or the needles and know that I was actually in one, in the middle of the night–or somewhere in the night–miles back in the woods, waiting to try and kill a man I had seen only once in my life. Nobody in the world knows where I am, I thought. I put tension on the bowstring, and the arrow came back a little. Who would believe it, I said, with no breath; who on earth?’
If you listen to audio, you have to get this, it’s absolutely one of the best audiobooks and stories that I've listened to. Just over 7 and 1/2 hours and I will definitely reread/re-listen to this, it is that good. And yes I did enjoy it as you can guess.
Also posted at http://paulnelson.booklikes.com/post/...
December 2, 2013
The 1970s must have been a time when America was filled with enthusiasm for long boring descriptions of nature, anal rape by hillbillies, thinly veiled homoerotcisim, and of course Burt Reynolds. These are the only reasons I can think of as to why Deliverance was such a big deal.
The story starts off with Ed Gentry gushing about his friend Lewis and what an athletic man's man Lewis is. In other words, someone's got a big old crush on his BFF. Ed just lives for any scraps of approval that Lewis throws his way, so much so he agrees to take a white water canoeing trip with him in the really backwards/redneck parts of Georgia before the state builds a dam or something like that. Ed doesn't really want to go, but he wants Lewis to think he's cool and adventurous and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible so he agrees. For some reason two other men agree to go, both are useless, but hey, every story needs its own Star Trek red shirts.
First the reader must suffer through a long boring car ride with Lewis telling Ed how the hill folk are good honest and gentle people, much like Tolkien's Hobbits or some garbage like that. Lewis loves 'em, Ed is ascared of them and their backward ways. After getting to wherever they end up the men interact with the inbred hillbillies and find some to move theirs cars to another place. At this point Ed throws out a very useless thought, he wonders how things would have turned out if only they shook hands with these men. Why think this? Did I miss something? Were the mechanics the attackers?
Boring canoe ride, boring night in tents, more boring canoeing then we get to the run in with the two hillbillies who change their lives forever. Drop your drawers lean over that log, sexual assault and screaming, drop to your knees boy then an arrow flies out of nowhere killing the one that was going to make Ed perform the delicate act of fellatio on him. The other one runs away. Back to more boring canoeing then wham one of the red shirts dies, Lewis breaks a leg and now Ed has to climb a cliff half the night so he can climb a tree to kill the one that got away with his bow and arrow.
Through every step of their plan Ed turns to Lewis for praise and reassurance even though Lewis has a broken leg and is passed out, he can't stop bitching about the rape victim being worthless. Hey asshole, the guy was just anal raped by some gross mountain man and without lube, give him some slack. Ed finally passes the test that enters him into real manhood, he kills a guy and grievously injures himself. He's bleeding like a stuck pig but yet he doesn't die, it doesn't matter how much he bleeds and moves around, he just doesn't die, but I'm sure in real life he would've, he's so manly there's no need for him to get blood at the hospital. In the end, Ed gets what he's wanted all long, Lewis' unconditional approval and life long friendship and maybe a little bit more (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
In other words, what a horrible book about horrible people.
The story starts off with Ed Gentry gushing about his friend Lewis and what an athletic man's man Lewis is. In other words, someone's got a big old crush on his BFF. Ed just lives for any scraps of approval that Lewis throws his way, so much so he agrees to take a white water canoeing trip with him in the really backwards/redneck parts of Georgia before the state builds a dam or something like that. Ed doesn't really want to go, but he wants Lewis to think he's cool and adventurous and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible so he agrees. For some reason two other men agree to go, both are useless, but hey, every story needs its own Star Trek red shirts.
First the reader must suffer through a long boring car ride with Lewis telling Ed how the hill folk are good honest and gentle people, much like Tolkien's Hobbits or some garbage like that. Lewis loves 'em, Ed is ascared of them and their backward ways. After getting to wherever they end up the men interact with the inbred hillbillies and find some to move theirs cars to another place. At this point Ed throws out a very useless thought, he wonders how things would have turned out if only they shook hands with these men. Why think this? Did I miss something? Were the mechanics the attackers?
Boring canoe ride, boring night in tents, more boring canoeing then we get to the run in with the two hillbillies who change their lives forever. Drop your drawers lean over that log, sexual assault and screaming, drop to your knees boy then an arrow flies out of nowhere killing the one that was going to make Ed perform the delicate act of fellatio on him. The other one runs away. Back to more boring canoeing then wham one of the red shirts dies, Lewis breaks a leg and now Ed has to climb a cliff half the night so he can climb a tree to kill the one that got away with his bow and arrow.
Through every step of their plan Ed turns to Lewis for praise and reassurance even though Lewis has a broken leg and is passed out, he can't stop bitching about the rape victim being worthless. Hey asshole, the guy was just anal raped by some gross mountain man and without lube, give him some slack. Ed finally passes the test that enters him into real manhood, he kills a guy and grievously injures himself. He's bleeding like a stuck pig but yet he doesn't die, it doesn't matter how much he bleeds and moves around, he just doesn't die, but I'm sure in real life he would've, he's so manly there's no need for him to get blood at the hospital. In the end, Ed gets what he's wanted all long, Lewis' unconditional approval and life long friendship and maybe a little bit more (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
In other words, what a horrible book about horrible people.
September 23, 2023
“Here we go,” he said, “out of the sleep of mild people, into the wild rippling water.”
…
The river was blank and mindless with beauty. It was the most glorious thing I have ever seen. But it was not seeing, really. For once it was not just seeing. It was beholding. I beheld the river in its icy pit of brightness, in its far-below sound and indifference, in its large coil and tiny points and flashes of the moon, in its long sinuous form, in its uncomprehending consequence.
…
“I think,” I said, “that we’ll never get out of this gorge alive.”
It’s 1970, and four friends decide to take a weekend trip to go canoeing on a river that’s about to be wiped off the map by a new dam in the northern part of Georgia. Led by hyper-macho Lewis, the only one with much experience, they take to the river despite warnings from locals that it’s too dangerous. But when they’re attacked by two men, their survival depends on coming out on top of a kill-or-be-killed situation….
Though a huge bestseller when released, the novel Deliverance was quickly eclipsed by the movie in popular culture. The sections where the characters are actually canoeing are still quite powerful, capturing the beauty of the wilderness experience when things are smooth and the exhilaration and fear of being at nature’s mercy in the rapids. And the scenes of the final confrontation above the river are also well-written and absorbing.
But the story in Deliverance is weak in some places and odd in others. Our narrator Ed is bored with his job, wife, life, and is looking for something else, “another life, deliverance.” Yawn. This midlife crisis theme was played out even by 1970. Meanwhile, Lewis is obsessed with the idea of society breaking down and being forced to leave the city and try to survive, which is too on the nose given what’s about to happen. There’s something vaguely homophobic about the way the rape scene unfolds and is viewed by the four men. Yet throughout the book, Ed thinks about Lewis in ways that are hard to read as anything other than sexual attraction. It’s like the movie Top Gun, somehow homophobic and homoerotic at the same time. And finally, when the survivors return home, they basically act as though everything they experienced never happened, depriving the reader of seeing how these extraordinary events in fact would have impacted their lives going forward.
Deliverance regularly appears on lists of the 100 greatest novels. As an adventure thriller, with a turning point that probably shocked readers in 1970, I can see why it got attention. And it’s better than other books from the 1970s that regularly appear on such lists: Dog Soldiers, Falconer, and Ragtime. But the farther we get from them the more apparent it is that the 1970s were a wasteland of literature. There are so many better thrillers from the past 50 years that should displace Deliverance on these lofty lists.
October 10, 2016
"You didn't know what you uz agettin' into, did you?"
A bunch of suburban men try to suck the marrow out of life in 1970's Deliverance, and find instead that life sucks the marrow out of them. Poet Laureate James Dickey is interested in getting back to the basics, escaping from the plastic-wrapped safety of suburbia: his characters find that they are in no way equipped to handle it.
I know Deliverance from the movie, and specifically from the only scene anyone remembers from the movie, which involves squealing like a pig. (That line isn't in the book, although the scene is.) I didn't even realize it was based on a book until recently. But here it is, and it shows up on Top 100 lists by Time and Modern Library, and it's a great book.
Books With Movie Adaptations That Are Just as Good
Deliverance
Clockwork Orange
Fight Club
Princess Bride
Romeo + Juliet
What I like most about Deliverance is its ambiguity. There are two possible storylines here. In the first, men get in touch with reality and find that they have it in them to survive when they're tested. In the second interpretation, men get in touch with reality and immediately cock it entirely up; their fear and incompetence lead them into the worst possible decisions at every turn, and they emerge criminals.
Both are to some extent true. It's certainly true that their entire expedition, canoeing down a river they know nothing about into whitewater they're totally unprepared to handle, is a world-class stupid idea. It's also true that some of them show courage and determination in great danger. The tipping point comes down to Ed's big moment with a bow and arrow. I love ambiguous books and I love how Dickey handles this complicated situation.
It's also just a total page turner, one of those rare books that's both great entertainment and great literature. Sure, Dickey - primarily a poet - gets a little fancy with his language, especially toward the end. But it's fine, he's earned it. This is one of the best books I've read this year.
A bunch of suburban men try to suck the marrow out of life in 1970's Deliverance, and find instead that life sucks the marrow out of them. Poet Laureate James Dickey is interested in getting back to the basics, escaping from the plastic-wrapped safety of suburbia: his characters find that they are in no way equipped to handle it.
I know Deliverance from the movie, and specifically from the only scene anyone remembers from the movie, which involves squealing like a pig. (That line isn't in the book, although the scene is.) I didn't even realize it was based on a book until recently. But here it is, and it shows up on Top 100 lists by Time and Modern Library, and it's a great book.
Books With Movie Adaptations That Are Just as Good
Deliverance
Clockwork Orange
Fight Club
Princess Bride
Romeo + Juliet
What I like most about Deliverance is its ambiguity. There are two possible storylines here. In the first, men get in touch with reality and find that they have it in them to survive when they're tested. In the second interpretation, men get in touch with reality and immediately cock it entirely up; their fear and incompetence lead them into the worst possible decisions at every turn, and they emerge criminals.
Both are to some extent true. It's certainly true that their entire expedition, canoeing down a river they know nothing about into whitewater they're totally unprepared to handle, is a world-class stupid idea. It's also true that some of them show courage and determination in great danger. The tipping point comes down to Ed's big moment with a bow and arrow. I love ambiguous books and I love how Dickey handles this complicated situation.
It's also just a total page turner, one of those rare books that's both great entertainment and great literature. Sure, Dickey - primarily a poet - gets a little fancy with his language, especially toward the end. But it's fine, he's earned it. This is one of the best books I've read this year.
February 24, 2008
Like many of you, I imagine, I have a simple rule: read the book, then see the movie. But that didn’t happen with Deliverance. I saw the movie many years ago, and just now got to the book. At first it was hard to read the book—quite brilliant in its descriptive power—without seeing Burt Reynolds, Ned Beatty, and Jon Voight. But in a testament to the book, slowly they slipped away and the power of the page prevailed.
The plot is well-known: four buddies embark on a canoe trip down the a river in rural Georgia before it is dammed for hydroelectric power. Two locals attack them viciously, and what happens from there is a blend of retribution, survival, loss, and lies to hold it all together.
There are many levels at work in Deliverance, but what struck me was its exploration into the horrific intersection of sex and violence. It isn’t easy reading. At the outset the narrator, Ed, is working on at an ad agency where a model is about to pose half-naked. She is wearing a towel and when it drops “she looked like someone who had come to womanhood in less than a minute.” The next morning, before embarks on this river trip, Ed and his wife make love. It is passionate, but comfortable with what a poet friend of mine called the long experience of love.
Then everything changes. The trip, the attack.
So here we have it: in a just over a hundred pages, the voyeur, the partner, the attacker, the victim are bunched uncomfortably close to one another, and, to borrow from Norman MacLean, a river runs through it. But here the river is neither benign, nor beautiful. It is, from turn to turn, menacing and deadly and claustrophobic. As it runs inexorably downhill, the horrific events and the lies that follow are left upriver where the men can only hope they will remain buried forever.
Was James Dickey suggesting that men are a sum of these parts? Or at least capable of them? Are these various beasts much closer to one another than we like to admit? And how do we react when confronted with the shock of this recognition? These questions are the real river in this book, the downhill force that makes for a complicated journey.
The writing in Deliverance is keen and Dickey drops the hammer mercilessly. That pummeling of the senses, of the heart, leads to a great deal of thought, yes, but at the end one of the four men says, “Come on for God’s sake. Let’s leave this place” and it is hard to disagree.
The plot is well-known: four buddies embark on a canoe trip down the a river in rural Georgia before it is dammed for hydroelectric power. Two locals attack them viciously, and what happens from there is a blend of retribution, survival, loss, and lies to hold it all together.
There are many levels at work in Deliverance, but what struck me was its exploration into the horrific intersection of sex and violence. It isn’t easy reading. At the outset the narrator, Ed, is working on at an ad agency where a model is about to pose half-naked. She is wearing a towel and when it drops “she looked like someone who had come to womanhood in less than a minute.” The next morning, before embarks on this river trip, Ed and his wife make love. It is passionate, but comfortable with what a poet friend of mine called the long experience of love.
Then everything changes. The trip, the attack.
So here we have it: in a just over a hundred pages, the voyeur, the partner, the attacker, the victim are bunched uncomfortably close to one another, and, to borrow from Norman MacLean, a river runs through it. But here the river is neither benign, nor beautiful. It is, from turn to turn, menacing and deadly and claustrophobic. As it runs inexorably downhill, the horrific events and the lies that follow are left upriver where the men can only hope they will remain buried forever.
Was James Dickey suggesting that men are a sum of these parts? Or at least capable of them? Are these various beasts much closer to one another than we like to admit? And how do we react when confronted with the shock of this recognition? These questions are the real river in this book, the downhill force that makes for a complicated journey.
The writing in Deliverance is keen and Dickey drops the hammer mercilessly. That pummeling of the senses, of the heart, leads to a great deal of thought, yes, but at the end one of the four men says, “Come on for God’s sake. Let’s leave this place” and it is hard to disagree.
January 23, 2016
This is a powerfully written novel that at its core deals with our instinctual human desire to survive at all costs. The plot is basic; four men decide to raft a seldom traveled river through north Georgia hill country. From that point on it is man verse nature, and in the end you might call it a draw.
James Dickey was a renowned poet, and only wrote a couple of novels. Reading "Deliverance" you can tell. The prose is economical, and there are rarely more words used then are needed. For the casual reader this will be frustrating, as the poetic format of some of the novel leaves narrative gaps that the reader must fill. But, if you get on board with Mr. Dickey's style you will enjoy the ride.
Some have said that the characters are not fleshed out, but I disagree. The book is narrated by Ed Gentry after the fact, and his observations of his companions and the environment around him are sharp and resound with humanity.
Besides the human characters in the text Mr. Dickey has written one of the great novels about Nature and its power. The river is one of the main characters in this novel, and one feels its emotions, its current, its strength, its malice with every descriptive phrase. Rarely have I read a book where the physical actions of the characters were etched into my mind and my body responded with the sense memory. This novel does that. Dickey has made the physical battle for survival as real as I have come across in literature.
Besides the survival element of the book, "Deliverance" also deals with the philosophical question of what makes us human and civilized. The answers are not always what we want to hear, but they still ring with human truth.
It is too bad that most people's connection with "Deliverance" is the film and not this inspired text. It should be much more than a pop culture reference.
James Dickey was a renowned poet, and only wrote a couple of novels. Reading "Deliverance" you can tell. The prose is economical, and there are rarely more words used then are needed. For the casual reader this will be frustrating, as the poetic format of some of the novel leaves narrative gaps that the reader must fill. But, if you get on board with Mr. Dickey's style you will enjoy the ride.
Some have said that the characters are not fleshed out, but I disagree. The book is narrated by Ed Gentry after the fact, and his observations of his companions and the environment around him are sharp and resound with humanity.
Besides the human characters in the text Mr. Dickey has written one of the great novels about Nature and its power. The river is one of the main characters in this novel, and one feels its emotions, its current, its strength, its malice with every descriptive phrase. Rarely have I read a book where the physical actions of the characters were etched into my mind and my body responded with the sense memory. This novel does that. Dickey has made the physical battle for survival as real as I have come across in literature.
Besides the survival element of the book, "Deliverance" also deals with the philosophical question of what makes us human and civilized. The answers are not always what we want to hear, but they still ring with human truth.
It is too bad that most people's connection with "Deliverance" is the film and not this inspired text. It should be much more than a pop culture reference.
February 6, 2024
My generation, and our children, are either intimately or generally aware of this as a film, in particular the “squeal like a pig” scene which manages to elicit many strains of primal fear beyond naming. I was curious to know how this was rendered in the original novel, published in 1970 and set in the mid-1960s, just before the hippie generation became popular and capitalized. The iconic statement, issued from the rotund Ned Beatty (brilliantly casted), isn’t actually in the novel. It must have been the screenwriter’s call, or improvisation by the director or actors, but it sure was impactful. But this in no way lessens the horror of the scene, which is faithfully captured from the novel. This book was a page turner for me due to its feverish action and tight prose. It held surprises for me, as expected, but it falls into that same category of brilliant novel and brilliant movie, like a few others (No Country for Old Men, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, e.g.). What makes them both so riveting is the visceral and exciting story line and the unique humanity of the actors. The physical characteristics of Burt Reynolds and Jon Voight were reversed, but the movie captured perfectly their personalities. The Voight character (“Ed”) tells the story in the novel, and it starts with him having very mixed feelings about joining Lewis on yet another of his harebrained, high-risk adventures. Lewis is intriguing to Ed, charismatic and (slightly sexually) attractive to the wild side of Ed, who vacillates between the security of his Vice President job at a graphic design company and the desire to find something new. Interestingly, a mote, a slice really, of color in the iris of an interesting young girl posing for a photo shoot sends Ed’s mind reeling with the possibilities. Here is a middle-aged man in crisis, his libido still making its mysterious siren call and he is lured by the wild dreams of his old friend. These suburban Atlanta dads, finally agree to the (now infamous) canoe trip in a relatively unchartered river on the southern border of Appalachia. A dam is planned, which will convert this wild river into a placid lake, for recreation and soft living vacationers – the end of it is near and “the boys” want a final fling, an adventure, a way to capture a point in time as a buttress for the dull, family life they see on their horizon.
The story reminded me of a time I was on a girl scout campsite with my daughters, and the men gathered up under the stars and just talked (alcohol was explicitly forbidden by one of the wives, who delivered the message to us all with great force as they let their little girls head out with dad). One was lamenting the loss of the male identity, the willingness to be violent when needed and the basic skill of being protector in our modern age (this was the late 1990s). And this is exactly what this book was about, men who want to test their mettle against nature, to see what the human body can endure and a willingness to die, if necessary, to find out. Lewis and Ed are archers, Lewis being the most talented (and overall alpha male in the quartet). Ed and Lewis bring their bows along on a bit of a lark, and for some vague sense of security (I have camped with my boyhood friend who came well-armed with surplus army knives and hatchets and machetes – these were Rambo movie days – he became a cop later till he retired). Here (p. 40), Lewis says “’…the whole thing is going to be reduced to human body, once and for all. I want to be ready…. The human race thing. I think the machines are going to fail, the political systems are going to fail, and a few men are going to take to the hills and start over’”. (p.41) “’…life is so complicated, and I wouldn’t mind if it came down, right quick, to the bare survival of who was ready to survive”. Ed listens to Lewis’ rant, drowsily, he’s heard it all before. Ed doubts his decision to join this party, but he’s drawn to it nonetheless.
The hillbillies are met, the chording with the brilliant banjo-playing one eyed maligned boy is achieved, and our foursome try to find a place to launch their two canoes. They are warned repeatedly by the locals that their mission is foolish, the gorge they pass unknown and not even mapped. The foreboding sets in for the reader. I found myself literally holding my breath and having to slow down to capture the fine prose from Dickey. As a young man of 19, I was thunderstruck by the opening of Apocalypse Now, I understood the pathos of the colonel in his room over Saigon, drunk to numbness to eliminate the fear of getting soft while the enemy outside the door “squats in the bush”. The men in Dickey’s story feel that too, they know there is violence and evil out there – they would rather have it real than cower under fear – they push the envelope. Here (p. 116), Ed realizes “..in a curious way I enjoyed being that lost. If you were in something as deep as we were in, it was better to go the whole way.” Ed is beginning to feel the elixir of that survivalist pull, living in the moment like never before as they traverse the wilds of water, stone and deepening ravines.
The encounter with the locals is similar to the movie, but the ascent to the top of the ridge after the catastrophic loss of one member and injury to Lewis, is telling. Ed’s mindset as he dares to scale, untethered and at exhaustion, the cliff is terrifying. When a modicum of safety is achieved, he clings to the earth and his diggings are almost sexual. Dickey writes this way. He begins to stalk his prey, and he begins to lose all sense of humanity, becoming animal-like as he faces his do-or-die showdown with the toothless man in overalls, a nimble mountain goat of a man. This was a strong section, and when he returns to his friends, who are injured or cowering, he is anew man, a made man, who has become a righteous murderer – he is transformed. Like Kurtz in Apocalypse Now, he takes over as his divine right and does what is needed to hide the body and, later, bury the body of their friend who finally floats down to their part of the river.
The wounded Lewis, the shocked and frightened Bobby (the one who was sodomized), and the newly empowered Ed crash through the rest of the river, somehow surviving one harrowing passage after another and finally coast toward civilization. Ed takes over for Lewis, and concocts the big lie, about how they’ve not seen any other people and their friend is lost, presumably drowned. Beat up, scared and exhausted, 3 of the 4 arrive at a bridge, call in an ambulance, and get ready for civilization. They get their story mostly right, but a local “deputy” spots an inconsistency. In a revealing passage, the local sheriff lets Ed know that he knows something more happened than their story, but he doesn’t want the trouble and tells them essentially to get out of town.
The story finishes as the 3 survivors get back to domesticity – the lie holds and doesn’t destroy any of them. Ed is the new lion, he is now amoral and doesn’t feel any obvious guilt for what he has done. The evil is buried with them, and the dam is built, and the burial grounds hide the secrets. With every foot of land covered by rising waters, the secret of the September 1965 (or thereabouts) canoe trip is erased.
This was an astonishing exploration of male psychology, a period piece of what was seen as flagrant modernity in its time, all dashed by the visceral experience of life and death, a final grasp of red tooth and claw from the old homo sapiens. Strong stuff, and most entertaining. I read it fast, breathless, I think most others will as well.
The story reminded me of a time I was on a girl scout campsite with my daughters, and the men gathered up under the stars and just talked (alcohol was explicitly forbidden by one of the wives, who delivered the message to us all with great force as they let their little girls head out with dad). One was lamenting the loss of the male identity, the willingness to be violent when needed and the basic skill of being protector in our modern age (this was the late 1990s). And this is exactly what this book was about, men who want to test their mettle against nature, to see what the human body can endure and a willingness to die, if necessary, to find out. Lewis and Ed are archers, Lewis being the most talented (and overall alpha male in the quartet). Ed and Lewis bring their bows along on a bit of a lark, and for some vague sense of security (I have camped with my boyhood friend who came well-armed with surplus army knives and hatchets and machetes – these were Rambo movie days – he became a cop later till he retired). Here (p. 40), Lewis says “’…the whole thing is going to be reduced to human body, once and for all. I want to be ready…. The human race thing. I think the machines are going to fail, the political systems are going to fail, and a few men are going to take to the hills and start over’”. (p.41) “’…life is so complicated, and I wouldn’t mind if it came down, right quick, to the bare survival of who was ready to survive”. Ed listens to Lewis’ rant, drowsily, he’s heard it all before. Ed doubts his decision to join this party, but he’s drawn to it nonetheless.
The hillbillies are met, the chording with the brilliant banjo-playing one eyed maligned boy is achieved, and our foursome try to find a place to launch their two canoes. They are warned repeatedly by the locals that their mission is foolish, the gorge they pass unknown and not even mapped. The foreboding sets in for the reader. I found myself literally holding my breath and having to slow down to capture the fine prose from Dickey. As a young man of 19, I was thunderstruck by the opening of Apocalypse Now, I understood the pathos of the colonel in his room over Saigon, drunk to numbness to eliminate the fear of getting soft while the enemy outside the door “squats in the bush”. The men in Dickey’s story feel that too, they know there is violence and evil out there – they would rather have it real than cower under fear – they push the envelope. Here (p. 116), Ed realizes “..in a curious way I enjoyed being that lost. If you were in something as deep as we were in, it was better to go the whole way.” Ed is beginning to feel the elixir of that survivalist pull, living in the moment like never before as they traverse the wilds of water, stone and deepening ravines.
The encounter with the locals is similar to the movie, but the ascent to the top of the ridge after the catastrophic loss of one member and injury to Lewis, is telling. Ed’s mindset as he dares to scale, untethered and at exhaustion, the cliff is terrifying. When a modicum of safety is achieved, he clings to the earth and his diggings are almost sexual. Dickey writes this way. He begins to stalk his prey, and he begins to lose all sense of humanity, becoming animal-like as he faces his do-or-die showdown with the toothless man in overalls, a nimble mountain goat of a man. This was a strong section, and when he returns to his friends, who are injured or cowering, he is anew man, a made man, who has become a righteous murderer – he is transformed. Like Kurtz in Apocalypse Now, he takes over as his divine right and does what is needed to hide the body and, later, bury the body of their friend who finally floats down to their part of the river.
The wounded Lewis, the shocked and frightened Bobby (the one who was sodomized), and the newly empowered Ed crash through the rest of the river, somehow surviving one harrowing passage after another and finally coast toward civilization. Ed takes over for Lewis, and concocts the big lie, about how they’ve not seen any other people and their friend is lost, presumably drowned. Beat up, scared and exhausted, 3 of the 4 arrive at a bridge, call in an ambulance, and get ready for civilization. They get their story mostly right, but a local “deputy” spots an inconsistency. In a revealing passage, the local sheriff lets Ed know that he knows something more happened than their story, but he doesn’t want the trouble and tells them essentially to get out of town.
The story finishes as the 3 survivors get back to domesticity – the lie holds and doesn’t destroy any of them. Ed is the new lion, he is now amoral and doesn’t feel any obvious guilt for what he has done. The evil is buried with them, and the dam is built, and the burial grounds hide the secrets. With every foot of land covered by rising waters, the secret of the September 1965 (or thereabouts) canoe trip is erased.
This was an astonishing exploration of male psychology, a period piece of what was seen as flagrant modernity in its time, all dashed by the visceral experience of life and death, a final grasp of red tooth and claw from the old homo sapiens. Strong stuff, and most entertaining. I read it fast, breathless, I think most others will as well.
May 22, 2018
I read this book years ago, back in the days when I used the Modern Library 100 Best Novels list to guide my reading because I didn't really understand modern literature outside The Canon. It was one of the books that really stood out to me and I've always remembered it fondly. An Audible sale gave me the chance to experience it again and re-evaluate it with more years behind me and a much broader understanding of modern lit. It was not at all what I expected, and it still stands out with a handful of other novels that are much more thrilling than the rest.
Dickey was a poet before he was a novelist and his prose is observant and exhilarating, just like the story itself. It's an excellent pairing of writing and plot, the two flowing together perfectly. At first I thought the book might be a critique of masculinity, a kind of a laugh at the macho suburban man and his belief in his own power. I saw the character of Lewis, the suburban dad who's also a militant survivalist, as a rather obvious satire in the beginning, which sent me along that line. But I don't think Dickey quite sees it that way. I get his point of view but he and I differ ultimately on what the story should mean.
What makes the book work so well, regardless of my disagreements with Dickey, is the voice and the brain of Ed, the main character. Ed is sharply aware of his own place in the world, of his limitations, of the joys and woes in the suburban monotony of his life. If Ed didn't observe the world and the people in it as keenly as he does, the book may not have the kind of muscle it does. He may not be a very realistic character, I've certainly never encountered a man of his age with such acute understanding, but it works for the book. This isn't a story for an unreliable narrator. I don't know why I trusted Ed's voice so immediately, but I did. That is part of what Dickey does so well. It's hypnotic.
In the end, Dickey sees a grandness that may be in nature or may be what man can pull out of himself when confronted with nature. Either way, he sees Ed as a bigger person when the book is over. Whereas I see a group of shortsighted assholes who willingly walked themselves practically into their own graves. This is where Dickey and I differ, though you can read the book the way I do pretty much until the last few pages and still keep it in your head just fine.
It is rather interesting to me that this book (though really it's the movie more than the book) has been distilled entirely down to murderous, raping hillibillies. And it's interesting to me that while the book and the film dared to depict a man as a victim of rape, that it's become so singular as the symbol of this in pop culture that you almost never see it elsewhere. It's particularly frustrating when you think of just how often the rape of a woman is cheerfully depicted as a plot device. It is, to me, another commentary on masculinity and homophobia, on how we see the rape of men as emasculating, as instantly removing masculinity. (I don't think it's an accident that the victim in the book is the pudgy, nice guy rather than any of the tougher dudes.)
Anyway, this book gave me a lot to think about, even if Dickey and I don't see it the same way, and I enjoyed it quite a lot.
Dickey was a poet before he was a novelist and his prose is observant and exhilarating, just like the story itself. It's an excellent pairing of writing and plot, the two flowing together perfectly. At first I thought the book might be a critique of masculinity, a kind of a laugh at the macho suburban man and his belief in his own power. I saw the character of Lewis, the suburban dad who's also a militant survivalist, as a rather obvious satire in the beginning, which sent me along that line. But I don't think Dickey quite sees it that way. I get his point of view but he and I differ ultimately on what the story should mean.
What makes the book work so well, regardless of my disagreements with Dickey, is the voice and the brain of Ed, the main character. Ed is sharply aware of his own place in the world, of his limitations, of the joys and woes in the suburban monotony of his life. If Ed didn't observe the world and the people in it as keenly as he does, the book may not have the kind of muscle it does. He may not be a very realistic character, I've certainly never encountered a man of his age with such acute understanding, but it works for the book. This isn't a story for an unreliable narrator. I don't know why I trusted Ed's voice so immediately, but I did. That is part of what Dickey does so well. It's hypnotic.
In the end, Dickey sees a grandness that may be in nature or may be what man can pull out of himself when confronted with nature. Either way, he sees Ed as a bigger person when the book is over. Whereas I see a group of shortsighted assholes who willingly walked themselves practically into their own graves. This is where Dickey and I differ, though you can read the book the way I do pretty much until the last few pages and still keep it in your head just fine.
It is rather interesting to me that this book (though really it's the movie more than the book) has been distilled entirely down to murderous, raping hillibillies. And it's interesting to me that while the book and the film dared to depict a man as a victim of rape, that it's become so singular as the symbol of this in pop culture that you almost never see it elsewhere. It's particularly frustrating when you think of just how often the rape of a woman is cheerfully depicted as a plot device. It is, to me, another commentary on masculinity and homophobia, on how we see the rape of men as emasculating, as instantly removing masculinity. (I don't think it's an accident that the victim in the book is the pudgy, nice guy rather than any of the tougher dudes.)
Anyway, this book gave me a lot to think about, even if Dickey and I don't see it the same way, and I enjoyed it quite a lot.
May 20, 2015
I enjoyed this book. From what I remember, I believe the made the movie pretty close to the book.
I don't think the characters were very prepared and did not proceed with a lot of common sense, so it could be said that they sort of deserved the trouble they encountered.
The biggest thing I took from this is how easy you can go from having a fairly normal life to having one with skeletons in your closet that will haunt you every day.
I don't think the characters were very prepared and did not proceed with a lot of common sense, so it could be said that they sort of deserved the trouble they encountered.
The biggest thing I took from this is how easy you can go from having a fairly normal life to having one with skeletons in your closet that will haunt you every day.
August 6, 2013
Fascinating, masculine, hypnotic, unbearable.
May 18, 2012
The book from which they made the movie that kicked off the backwoods brutality genre.
I haven't seen the movie. It probably isn't as dense with details of slants of thought and twists of mind as the novel is. On the other hand, it probably doesn't have to spend hundreds and hundreds of words describing settings.
Dickey's style is far from stripped-down or terse. It's detailed; very detailed. Often too much so for my taste, getting lost in a second-by-second description of crawling over a rock, climbing up a tree, and so on, delaying the next narrative beat with a wash of nuance. None of it is badly written, some of it is startlingly brilliant: the small waverings and clingings of the narrator,torn between wanting to savour this weekend in the wild as much as the macho friend he almost hero worships - but not quite - and realising that he belongs in a far more urban, domestic version of the world, however strong the temptation to fantasise about rugged survival might be. His need for safety and escape, the extremes they drive him too, the moments of total focus, identification with his target, contempt for the weak, for his weakened friends. The economical but effective sketches of his companions - it's hard to know if any of them really were friends, after all.
What holds me back from a 4-star rating is the fact that Dickey's narrative was often at odds with narrative flow, wordy where it should have been deft, weighty where it should have sprinted. There is just one pace throughout, the strong but plodding pace of a middle-aged man who gives the impression that he is settled in his life but is actually still trying to figure it all out in his head - which is marvelously apropos, but perhaps overdone a bit. Geoffrey Household would have given you all the action and the introspection without any of the dead time. I'll need to read this one more time to decide for sure.
I haven't seen the movie. It probably isn't as dense with details of slants of thought and twists of mind as the novel is. On the other hand, it probably doesn't have to spend hundreds and hundreds of words describing settings.
Dickey's style is far from stripped-down or terse. It's detailed; very detailed. Often too much so for my taste, getting lost in a second-by-second description of crawling over a rock, climbing up a tree, and so on, delaying the next narrative beat with a wash of nuance. None of it is badly written, some of it is startlingly brilliant: the small waverings and clingings of the narrator,torn between wanting to savour this weekend in the wild as much as the macho friend he almost hero worships - but not quite - and realising that he belongs in a far more urban, domestic version of the world, however strong the temptation to fantasise about rugged survival might be. His need for safety and escape, the extremes they drive him too, the moments of total focus, identification with his target, contempt for the weak, for his weakened friends. The economical but effective sketches of his companions - it's hard to know if any of them really were friends, after all.
What holds me back from a 4-star rating is the fact that Dickey's narrative was often at odds with narrative flow, wordy where it should have been deft, weighty where it should have sprinted. There is just one pace throughout, the strong but plodding pace of a middle-aged man who gives the impression that he is settled in his life but is actually still trying to figure it all out in his head - which is marvelously apropos, but perhaps overdone a bit. Geoffrey Household would have given you all the action and the introspection without any of the dead time. I'll need to read this one more time to decide for sure.
February 3, 2018
There are no spoilers here, nothing to ruin it for the few people who have never seen the 1972 movie of the same name. The movie followed fairly closely to the book, so I knew where the plot was headed the whole time. Even with that knowledge, I was inexorably pulled into the story, unable to set the book down.
Dickey’s continuous examinations in the early part of the book infect the reader with the malaise that has enveloped Ed Gentry and become his life. As a canoe trip that began as a break in life’s monotony quickly morphed into a struggle for survival, we can see how Ed changes and becomes someone he never imagined he could be.
This book is a mixture of a thriller tinged with adventure, camaraderie, dread, and the horror that only an unexpected, unspeakable situation can inflict. Human nature is human nature, and it is impossible to predict how anyone would act if confronted with a similar situation. Author James Dickey’s portrayal of forced survival decisions is powerful and revealing, and is not a book to be missed. Five stars.
Dickey’s continuous examinations in the early part of the book infect the reader with the malaise that has enveloped Ed Gentry and become his life. As a canoe trip that began as a break in life’s monotony quickly morphed into a struggle for survival, we can see how Ed changes and becomes someone he never imagined he could be.
This book is a mixture of a thriller tinged with adventure, camaraderie, dread, and the horror that only an unexpected, unspeakable situation can inflict. Human nature is human nature, and it is impossible to predict how anyone would act if confronted with a similar situation. Author James Dickey’s portrayal of forced survival decisions is powerful and revealing, and is not a book to be missed. Five stars.
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