The Survival of the Bark Canoe

by John Mcphee

Release Date: 01 May, 1982

Edition: Paperback

Price:

More Info

The Ethic of Craftsmanship

McPhee's book can be read on several levels, but I prefer to think of it as an example of the triumph of nature over rational planning, or perhaps the triumph of nature over our ideas about nature.

It is the story of a young man's obsession with the old ways of constructing a birch bark canoe. In the first half of the book, McPhee describes in great detail Henri Vaillancourt's dedication to the ethic of craftsmanship. His knowledge comes largely from the books and sketches of Edwin Adney, from visiting other canoe-makers, and from trial and error. He confesses his desire to build the perfect canoe. He uses no nails or screws; even his tools are homemade and archaic. Little else holds his attention.

The second half of the book chronicles McPhee's trip with Henri and a few friends, paddling in Henri's canoes through the lakes and streams of the Maine woods. Interestingly, Henri had made only a handful of canoe trips before, and this would be his first portage and his first trip in rapids.

The book's humor comes from the tension between what the travelers consider natural (good) and what they consider unnatural (bad). Among them there is a partially self-conscious competition to see who can be more "authentic."

For example, Henri tells his friends, before the trip, that the idea is to travel light, "like the Indians," and therefore dissuades them from bringing their larger, more durable tent. When a rainstorm wrecks his friends' lighter tent, and he is forced to share his tent with them, he scorns them for not bringing the bigger tent. Eventually he forsakes his homemade jerky for clams baked on a very modern portable stove. Nothing like an empty stomach to challenge a man's ideals. There are also many discussions about Henry David Thoreau, the original New England nature boy who accidentally started two forest fires.

I don't see these subtle revelations as a criticism of Henri. His canoes may survive the trip, but whether they will survive the modern world, with its inauthentic, aluminum canoes and its Mountain House Freeze-Dried Beef Stroganoff, is another question. The story here seems to be that Henri's efforts, however fine, will remain impure and imperfect because he is human, and that a return to a more "natural," Indian way of life is neither possible nor preferable. In part this is because that life has never existed. It has been imagined and idealized by people like Henry Thoreau. But then Henri Vaillancourt is a craftsman, not a nature boy.

To my mind, McPhee's book raises some interesting questions about what ought to be preserved and what ought to be left behind.

It left me with a tremendous appreciation of bark canoes

As a canoeist, handyman, and McPhee fan, I enjoyed this little book very much. Like the 5-11-2000 reviewer, I found it to come in two parts. The first part details technical details about birch-bark canoes and how Vaillancourt became a self-taught master of their construction. The second part describes a canoe trip with Vaillancourt and others.

That other reviewer found the second half to be parody of Vaillancourt, but I disagree. As in The Deltoid Pumpkin Seed, real life sometimes takes a turn that a dreamer would not expect. Like his other non-fiction, I felt that McPhee offered real insights to the peoples' character and doesn't hesitate to sing their praises nor describe their shortcomings.

I enjoy the copious background information that McPhee includes in all of his books. Even more than a Tracy Kidder book, you come away feeling like you have some in-depth understanding of the subject.