There is a genre of American writing that tells the tale of an idealized American free spirit (always a man) who is strong, independent, an explorer and an adventurer. The Last American Man, by Elizabeth Gilbert, is a great example of this, as is Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer. A slightly different and much earlier version is Walden, by Thoreau. In each, a man sets out to live independent of society, its mores and values. Each has deep relationships, yet the protagonist pulls away at some point to continue their exploration, preventing any deepening relationships. He explores, treads his own path, and inevitably comes to some tragic end. Riverman, by Ben McGrath, is of this genre.
Riverman tells the story of Dick Conant, a bright, big, friendly, curious person who paddled the rivers of America. He travelled in his overbrimming canoe down the Mississippi River into the Gulf of Mexico; from Western New York to Texas; and other rivers systems and tributaries. He lived on very little, yet created relationships everywhere he went. He charmed the people he happened upon, even when their first reaction to him was fear because of his size (and this happened frequently!). In between trips, he wrote pages and pages of memoir, though they never amounted to a book. It seems he struggled with mental illness intermittently throughout his life, though it is unclear whether this contributed to his itinerant ways.
During one of his journeys, he happened upon the New Yorker writer, Ben McGrath, and they exchanged contact information. Shortly after, Conant’s canoe was found abandoned, but he was nowhere to be found. Though there was an extensive search, his body was never recovered. However, in going through his things the authorities found McGrath’s phone number, and they made contact. McGrath, who has his own love of the outdoors, was taken with Conant through their short meeting, and all the more so once he started looking into his life and relationships. McGrath followed Conant’s clues and trail, getting to know the man, his story and motivations, through the people who met and (mostly) adored him. The book is the story of Conant as much as it is a story of McGrath’s journey and experience of what motivated both of their explorations.
While I put Riverman in “the strong-American-man” category, it does diverge at some points. First, McGrath, as the author, centers himself in the story in a way the other such books don’t. Second, while he admires Contant, he doesn’t lionize him the same way the other books do to their protagonists. I might even say that it reflects the tension between a desire to have this kind of idealized role model, and a reluctant acceptance of misgivings and doubts about this version of American ideals. Or maybe it’s just the skeptical age we live in that doesn’t allow much in the way of heroes and role models.
In the end, Conant remains a compelling, if fuzzy character, not fully understood, but appreciated for the value he put in his curiosity and relationships with others. Even if you’ll never get in a canoe, it’s a powerful story.
Just Because I Liked It:
- Maybe this is only exciting for me, but we just launched our new school website today! You can take a look here. Many thanks to Cheryl Borenstein for her awesome work.