"The Revenant" by Michael Punke (published 2015)

"The Revenant: A Novel Of Revenge" tells the story of frontiersman Hugh Glass, a Western legend, who survived the wilderness on his own after he was brutally attacked by a grizzly bear and left for dead by The Rocky Mountain Fur Company. The year is 1823 and the frontier is abounding with Native American tribes, which, for the most part, doesn’t make Glass’s plight any easier, until one kind Sioux tends to his wounds and takes him in. 

The author of this book, Michael Punke, writes with clarity and a knack for solid historical fiction, and spins a tale of survivalism driven by the need for retribution. Glass is not upset that his partners have left him – he was severely wounded and a burden; they had tried to carry him on a handmade stretcher over the treacherously cold and snowy landscape (not to mention covered with trees, shallow quarries, fords, mountainous terrain, and the like) for three days. Punke’s interpretation of Glass’s story describes a man driven by rage at the fact that when his men left they took away his only supplies, his precious Anstadt rifle as well as his knife, which Hugh Glass comes to realize were key belongings of his to stay alive.

After the grizzly bear attack, Punke describes Glass’s condition:

"Glass was shredded from head to foot. His scalp lay dangling to one side, and it took Harris an instant to recognize the components that made up his face. Worst was his throat. The grizzly’s claws had cut three deep and distinct tracks, beginning at the shoulder and passing straight through across his neck. Another inch and the claws would have severed Glass’s jugular. As it was, they had laid open his throat, slicing through muscle and exposing his gullet. The claws had also cut the trachea, and Harris watched, horrified, as a large bubble formed in the blood that seeped from the wound. It was the first clear sign that Glass was alive."

After witnessing this, the men of the The Rocky Mountain Fur Company, most especially a young soul named Bridger, did their best to piece Glass back together by putting pine gum within the open wounds and sewing those wounds back together, but after some time they all give up. A lot of the decision to abandon Glass is owed to Fitzgerald, a pissant of a human being who didn’t believe in Glass’s survival from the start (Fitzgerald ordered some of the men to build a grave for him almost immediately, all the while wondering “When will the bastard die?). It is Bridger who shows the most humanity, and Punke illuminates this by poetically writing scenes where Bridger’s conscience is in turmoil over Glass’s fate, which Bridger grievously knows depends on the men. 

The basic plot structure drawn out by Punke is right there, a strong skeletal form that takes full shape once Hugh Glass begins to live life on his own. It is a tale of, mind the language, a strange and arduous lesson in Boy Scout’s for the insane. He builds fires with little bits of gunpowder in the face of the strongest winds, eats raw meat from the wildest animals (including a battle with a poisonous snake), fights off ferocious wolves, joins a band of French sailors, and finally finds his way back to camp to face Fitzgerald.

It must be said there is more to the story than just this action-driven storyline, and even more than the title suggests. It must be said that quite beautifully, Punke is truly writing something about the clash of two civilizations. The backdrop of the Native American way of life slowly disappearing against the harsh colonial quest for territory and exploration is quietly portrayed. Yes, there is some mention of the barbarism of the Natives, and yes, there are grandiose paragraphs in which Punke explains the desire for God represented in the rich land newly discovered by the soldiers and merchants – or the lack thereof. There is a brilliant scene where Glass, in all his pain and anguish, stares in complete awe at a herd of roaming oxen. But this is where the history comes in, and Punke speculates accordingly, perhaps to make a modest political statement that there was still such a thing as compassion in such a turbulent place:

"The burnt remains of the Arikara village reminded Hugh Glass of skeletons. It was eerie to walk among them. This place that teemed so recently with the vibrant life of five hundred families now sat dead as a graveyard, a blackened monument on the high bluff above the Missouri… Glass stopped to peer into a big lodge near the center of the village, clearly some type of communal building. He saw a flash of motion in the dark interior… a small dog, a pup, whimpered in the middle of the lodge. Relieved and excited at the prospect of fresh meat, Glass took a slow step forward. He turned the spear to bring the blunt end forward… sensing the danger, the dog bolted toward dark recesses at the back of the open room. Glass moved quickly in pursuit, stopping in shock when the dog jumped into the arms of an ancient squaw. The old woman huddled on a pallet, curled into a tight ball on a tattered blanket… he reached into his parfleche and pulled out an ear of corn. He shucked it and offered it to the old woman. Glass held out the corn for a long time as the woman continued her wailing chant… Glass reached out and touched the old woman on the head, gently stroking the white hair… not knowing what else to do, he took the woman’s hand. She squeezed it weakly and pulled it to her cheek. They sat like that for a while. Her blind eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep."

There is so much to take away from this story, and perhaps none of it has to do with revenge so much as it has to do with remembrance, unlike Innaritu’s recent film featuring DiCaprio, which took *many* liberties with the book, however doing much justice to the book’s title. It’s a fascinating glimpse into a darker time, a time that was surpassed and that we are still surpassing, and which now might teach us something of a brighter tomorrow.