I want to return to Into The Wild to discuss the author himself. Jon Krakauer waits until the third act of the nonfiction book to discuss his own life, but doing so adds a lot of depth and context to the story of Chris McCandless. Krakauer is a climber and avid outdoorsman, and he has been in some hairy situations throughout the years. Some feats sound more taxing or reckless than anything that McCandless ever did.
Krakauer brings up his own life to demonstrate that many young men are driven into some sort of wild place, whether that’s a mountain, a desert, or even the middle of a huge city. Much of Krakauer’s drive was related to his father. “Like McCandless, figures of male authority aroused in me a confusing medley of corked fury and hunger to please” (p. 134).
The older Krakauer was a doctor who put loads of pressure on his children to succeed, particularly in the field of medicine. “I had been granted unusual freedom and responsibility at an early age, for which I should have been grateful in the extreme, but I wasn’t. Instead, I felt oppressed by the old man’s expectations” (p. 148).
“He had built a bridge of privilege for me, a hand-paved trestle to the good life, and I repaid him by chopping it down and crapping on the wreckage” (p. 149).
His father eventually suffered a mental collapse and, after a failed suicide attempt, was placed in a psychiatric hospital. This forced Krakauer to evaluate what that father/son relationship really meant. “The old walrus in fact managed to instill in me a great and burning ambition; it had simply found expression in an unintended pursuit” (p. 150). (That pursuit, if you’re not familiar with him, is renowned journalist and nonfiction book author.)
Krakauer has a deep understanding of the way people try to run from their problems, only to find that path to progress and healing lies within. “I was a raw youth who mistook passion for insight and acted according to an obscure, gap-ridden logic. I thought climbing the Devils Thumb would fix all that was wrong with my life. In the end, of course, it changed almost nothing” (p. 155).
The author isn’t trying to discredit McCandless’ travels. There is value in travel, especially the full-fledged, total-immersion type of travel. But when you wander, all you really find is yourself. This concept echoes true through American literature, from Emerson to Henry Miller. As a result, I keep thinking of that random saying, “Wherever you go, there you are.” McCandless did come to similar realizations, if only too late. I won’t give away that part. You have to read or watch for yourself.
Similar Posts:
- I’m Thoreau-ly Bored (July 10, 2008)
- The Pen Is Mightier Than The Bomb (March 21, 2009)
- Henry Miller: Prototype For a New Kind of Protest (March 11, 2009)
- SYNful Writing Tips (September 9, 2008)
- The Sin of Lifelessness (November 25, 2008)
