Paula G. (Paulathegreat) reviewed The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the North Pond Hermit on + 153 more book reviews
Helpful Score: 1
From a literary perspective this is a good book. It is well written, well researched (considering the subject of the book, who is the only one who knows WHAT happened out there was uncooperative and often abusive) and easily digested while being memorable. I enjoyed the book.
I was conflicted about the subject. Christopher Knight was a 20 year old, who was having a hard time finding himself, when he disappeared into the Maine woods. In the ensuing 27 years, Chris would build himself a camp and live there without touching or engaging another human being. He would see three or four people and speak to only one of them.
His camp was made of old magazines, tarps, trash sacks, and other similar debris. The old magazines were duct taped together to form a floor. This was used to keep his tent off of the cold ground, protect him from the things that lived in the ground, and provide a way for water to run off under. The tarps and trash bags formed a tent, protected from prying eyes by rock boulders. Everything was camouflaged to not be visible from the air.
He choose entirely to leave the modern world . . .
But not quite. He didn't willingly interact with people, but he did interact with their cabins. He went through their summer homes and took what he needed usually books, batteries and propane tanks. This created a local legend of the hermit who stole things (sometimes as big as a mattress), but left the cabins strangely undisturbed seeming.
For a quarter of a century people knew they were losing things, but could not put a name or a face to a culprit. When eventually modern technology developed a camera that could catch him, his face was innocuous and unfamiliar. Some cabin owners took his existence with good natured fun, but others were fearful of the unknown man who went through even their underwear drawers. When caught, Chris indicated that he knew it was wrong to steal, but it was the only way he could maintain his life away from interactions.
Meantime, his family had no clue what had happened to him. His brothers suspected he may have died. His mother always believed he was alive. His father died before he could know. At the end of the book we still do not know what drove him, it is fairly obvious that Chris doesn't know himself.
Finkel tries to make The Hermit the man of legend, a deep thinker who wanted only his own company. However, there is a profound selfishness in Chris' lack of regard for the feelings of the homeowners and the family he left behind, whose own privacy would be severely violated when he was caught. This may be the obsession with doing that both Chris and Finkel lament, but the hermit contributed nothing to the world from which he took whatever he needed. He created no art, did not even grow vegetables, may no ones life better.
So I left this book conflicted. While I strongly believe in the idea that we should all be able to live as we choose, this story seemed profoundly sad to me for the wasted loss of potential in a life selfishly and pointlessly lived.
I was conflicted about the subject. Christopher Knight was a 20 year old, who was having a hard time finding himself, when he disappeared into the Maine woods. In the ensuing 27 years, Chris would build himself a camp and live there without touching or engaging another human being. He would see three or four people and speak to only one of them.
His camp was made of old magazines, tarps, trash sacks, and other similar debris. The old magazines were duct taped together to form a floor. This was used to keep his tent off of the cold ground, protect him from the things that lived in the ground, and provide a way for water to run off under. The tarps and trash bags formed a tent, protected from prying eyes by rock boulders. Everything was camouflaged to not be visible from the air.
He choose entirely to leave the modern world . . .
But not quite. He didn't willingly interact with people, but he did interact with their cabins. He went through their summer homes and took what he needed usually books, batteries and propane tanks. This created a local legend of the hermit who stole things (sometimes as big as a mattress), but left the cabins strangely undisturbed seeming.
For a quarter of a century people knew they were losing things, but could not put a name or a face to a culprit. When eventually modern technology developed a camera that could catch him, his face was innocuous and unfamiliar. Some cabin owners took his existence with good natured fun, but others were fearful of the unknown man who went through even their underwear drawers. When caught, Chris indicated that he knew it was wrong to steal, but it was the only way he could maintain his life away from interactions.
Meantime, his family had no clue what had happened to him. His brothers suspected he may have died. His mother always believed he was alive. His father died before he could know. At the end of the book we still do not know what drove him, it is fairly obvious that Chris doesn't know himself.
Finkel tries to make The Hermit the man of legend, a deep thinker who wanted only his own company. However, there is a profound selfishness in Chris' lack of regard for the feelings of the homeowners and the family he left behind, whose own privacy would be severely violated when he was caught. This may be the obsession with doing that both Chris and Finkel lament, but the hermit contributed nothing to the world from which he took whatever he needed. He created no art, did not even grow vegetables, may no ones life better.
So I left this book conflicted. While I strongly believe in the idea that we should all be able to live as we choose, this story seemed profoundly sad to me for the wasted loss of potential in a life selfishly and pointlessly lived.
