R. M. Ballantyne (1825–1894)

'The Young Fur Traders' was R. M Ballantyne's first novel (1856), preceding the more famous 'The Coral Island' by a year. It would probably be classed as Young Adult fiction today although, of course, any romance is perfunctory and limited to a few final chapters.

A group of young men are stuck in clerical work at first and yearn to be part of a Hudson Bay fur trading network 'in the field'. They get their wish in different ways. Many adventures ensue alongside representatives of the noble show more Indian warrior and an experienced French-Canadian trapper.

It is certainly an adventure novel, albeit somewhat wordy in the way that popular Victorian fiction can be but sincere enough. Ballantyne is undoubtedly excellent at description and character. It is not going to be a popular read today but we can see why it would have been enjoyed at the time.

The book is very much based on that old dictum for first novelists - 'write about what you know'. When he was 16 Ballantyne had joined the Hudson Bay Company in Canada and had traded furs with the indigenous Americans until he was 22.

He started writing about his experiences as non-fiction soon after and then took up a full time literary career on the far side of 30. This first book was thus a distillation of his adolescent experiences in the wilds of Canada expressed as fiction.

The tone is kindly and often humorous. In effect, it is a tale of young men adventuring for profit at the edge of empire under often harsh conditions which they bear with Christian fortitude. A type of muscular universal Christanity is a constant presence throughout the book.

Like so many forgotten novels, the value to us has shifted from excitement and immediacy (and perhaps inspiration) towards providing an insight into the normal patterns of thought of another country - the past more than Canada itself.

What is striking is that our young traders may be patronising to the indigenous Indians but no more than they would be to the working class at home. I detected barely any sign of the racism that would later emerge with the arrival of social darwinism and formal empire.

Traders have to rub along with each other to their mutual benefit and the Indians are just another type of human who have their heroes - the heroic and upstanding Redfeather - and their villains and ordinary folk. If gentlemen do not mate with Indian women, it is a social caste thing not one of race.

And, of course, the Indian who becomes a Christian has seen the light and is equal to any white man, to be invited most honourably alongside the brave French trader to a young hero's wedding. This is a world where religion is central to who you are, not the colour of your skin or culture.

Indeed, there are several speeches which indicate a determination to press the point - that a man is judged by his conduct and beliefs and a man of good conduct with the wrong beliefs can still be a good man, only to be made better by the right beliefs.

The gender relations are also those of the different but equal. Boys want to adventure in adverse circumstances. Girls want to create secure households. The harsh environment and the need for physical resilience dictates that balance but still a girl rides her horse with the best of the men.

The story itself unfolds as many interconnected adventures that are brought to a satisfying conclusion but these adventures are much less interesting that what we learn about life in a world of packed snow, frozen lakes, floods, canoes, Indian villagers, animal hunting and frost bite.

These are people who have chosen this life. They entirely depend on each other for survival but yet there is room for the lone trapper who knows his environment to disappear for weeks and months on end living off the land. The secure freedom is much of what would have appealed to a young reader.

Of course, the freedom is qualified not only by the environment but by the codes of Victorian culture so perhaps is not quite what we would consider freedom. Nevertheless, assuming you believed in work and God, then there would certainly be more freedom from constraint and equality than back home.

There are probably no worlds any more where quasi-indigenous life styles are simultaneously culturally sufficient unto themselves and closely reliant on the global market - in this case, the civilised demand for furs. Perhaps they are now only imagined in science fiction.

There is no sentimentality about nature here. It is there to be exploited. Animals are just moving meat and tradeable product when they are not threats. The beauty of nature is appreciated but also seen as a harsh mistress to be tamed. It is a backdrop to the human.

For an easy-going if somewhat sanitised picture of largely unregulated life on the American (Canadian) frontier in the 1840s, this fictionalisation is entertaining and informative enough to enjoy but perhaps only if you do not mind Victorian sentimentality expressed for a tad too long. show less

The Dog Crusoe is a story of pioneers versus the wilderness and the savages, published in 1906. The dog in it is a Newfoundland, which is my favorite breed. As far as dog book goes, there are some of the best dog moments in this book and I will share a few of them in this review.

There are details of the wilderness, the animals, and the native Americans which is very authentic. It also displays attitudes against the native Americans that are prejudicial.

Goodreads provides a summary on the show more author and from that and Wikipedia I learned at 16 (1841) the author went to Canada for 5 years and worked with the Hudson’s Bay Company. He traded with the local First Nations and Native Americans for furs, which required him to travel by canoe and sleigh, experiences that formed the basis of his novel The Young Fur Traders (1856) he wrote after going back to Scotland. Later, he went on to write a series of adventure stories ‘for the young’ and eventually wrote more than a hundred books!

Reading about the relations between the ‘palefaces’ and ‘red-men’ lead me to also look up details on the Indian wars West of the Mississippi (1804 to 1924). I also looked up more about Bison and that ‘Fewer than 100 remained in the wild by the late 1880s,’ so the massive herds described in the book probably was still there for the author to see in the middle 1800’s.

The hero in this book is a young ‘Dick Varley’ who wins Crusoe in a shooting contest along with a silver rifle. Here is a bit on the shooting contest:

‘The sort of rifle practice called “driving the nail,” by which this match was to be decided, was, and we believe still is, common among the hunters of the far west. It consisted in this: an ordinary large-headed nail was driven a short way into a plank or a tree, and the hunters, standing at a distance of fifty yards or so, fired at it until they succeeded in driving it home.’

Wildlife is plentiful in the book, and the wholesale hunting and trapping of them make me cringe but was obviously taken in stride at the time. Along with the great herds of Bison prominent in the book, there was also a part describing riding their horses through large prairie dog settlements. Here is a bit on a partner to the prairie ‘doggies’:

‘We have not been able to ascertain from travelers why the owls have gone to live with these doggies, so we beg humbly to offer our own private opinion to the reader. We assume, then, that owls find it absolutely needful to have holes. Probably prairie-owls cannot dig holes for themselves. Having discovered, however, a race of little creatures that could, they very likely determined to take forcible possession of the holes made by them. Finding, no doubt, that when they did so the doggies were too timid to object, and discovering, moreover, that they were sweet, innocent little creatures, the owls resolved to take them into partnership, and so the thing was settled—that’s how it came about, no doubt of it!’

Great details of life in the wilderness but I am in it for the dog. I will give you some good passages -

‘The love of a Newfoundland dog to its master is beyond calculation or expression. He who once gains such love carries the dog’s life in his hand, But let him who reads note well, and remember that there is only one coin that can purchase such love, and that is kindness. The coin, too, must be genuine, kindness merely expressed will not do, it must be felt.’

It was a peculiar trait of Crusoe’s gentle nature that, the moment any danger ceased, he resumed his expression of nonchalant gravity.’

‘Crusoe did not bark; he seldom barked; he usually either said nothing, or gave utterance to a prolonged roar of indignation of the most terrible character, with barks, as it were, mingled through it. It somewhat resembled that peculiar and well-known species of thunder, the prolonged roll of which is marked at short intervals in its course by cannon-like cracks. It was a continuous, but, so to speak, knotted roar.’

What was really great about the book though was the times Crusoe gets to be the hero. At one point Dick is help captive by the Indians. Things are still friendly, but he can’t leave. At one point a young native child is swept away in a river. Can Crusoe save the child?

‘“Save it, pup,” cried Dick, pointing to the child, which had been caught in an eddy, and was for a few moments hovering on the edge of the stream that rushed impetuously towards the fall.

The noble Newfoundland did not require to be told what to do. It seems a natural instinct in this sagacious species of dog to save man or beast that chances to be struggling in the water, and many are the authentic stories related of Newfoundland dogs saving life in eases of shipwreck. Indeed, they are regularly trained to the work in some countries; and nobly, fearlessly, disinterestedly do they discharge their trust, often in the midst of appalling dangers. Crusoe sprang from the bank with such impetus that his broad chest ploughed up the water like the bow of a boat, and the energetic workings of his muscles were indicated by the force of each successive propulsion as he shot ahead.

In a few seconds he reached the child and caught it by the hair. Then he turned to swim back, but the stream had got hold of him. Bravely he struggled, and lifted the child breast-high out of the water in his powerful efforts to stem the current. In vain. Each moment he was carried inch by inch down until he was on the brink of the fall, which, though not high, was a large body of water and fell with a heavy roar. He raised himself high out of the stream with the vigour of his last struggle, and then fell back into the abyss.’

Another thing I loved about the book is how the author ‘talked’ for the dog. I generally don’t like it when dogs ‘talk’ or narrate books as often it is unrealistic. The following paragraphs from one passage is a good example of the book on how the author writes in a way to sound like the dialect of the time, how he speaks for the dog, and even his rational for dogs speaking:

‘“Now, Crusoe,” said Dick, sitting down on the buffalo’s shoulder and patting his favourite on the head, “we're all right at last. You and I shall have a jolly time o't, pup, from this time for’ard.”

Dick paused for breath, and Crusoe wagged his tail and looked as if to say—pshaw! “as if!”

We tell you what it is, reader, it’s of no use at all to go on writing “as if,’ when we tell you what Crusoe said. If there is any language in eyes whatever—if there is language in a tail, in a cocked ear, in a mobile eyebrow, in the point of a canine nose,—if there is language in any terrestrial thing at all, apart from that which flows from the tongue, then Crusoe spoke! Do we not speak at this moment to you? and if so, then tell me wherein lies the difference between a written letter and a given sign?

Yes, Crusoe spoke. He said to Dick as plain as dog could say it, slowly and emphatically, “ That’s my opinion precisely, Dick. You're the dearest, most beloved, jolliest fellow that ever walked on two legs, you are; and whatever’s your opinion is mine, no matter how absurd it may be.”’

Here is another place where the dog talks:

‘Dick was gazing in dreamy silence at the jutting rocks and dark caverns, and speculating on the probable number of bears that dwelt there, when a slight degree of restlessness on the part of Crusoe attracted him.

“What is't, pup?” said he, laying his hand on the dog’s broad back.

Crusoe looked the answer, “I don’t know, Dick, but it’s something, you may depend upon it, else I would not have disturbed you.”’

One last part before I sum up my thoughts on the book. Dick breaks a wild horse to ride and names him Charlie. Later in the book there is a part where wild horses stampede through the camp of trappers and Charlie breaks free to run away with them. Dick doesn’t know it, but Crusoe does:

Little did Dick think, when the flood of horses swept past him, that his own good steed was there, rejoicing in his recovered liberty. But Crusoe knew it. Ay, the wind had borne down the information to his acute nose before the living storm burst upon the camp; and when Charlie rushed past, with the long tough halter trailing at his heels, Crusoe sprang to his side, seized the end of the halter with his teeth, and galloped off along with him.

It was a long gallop and a tough one, but Crusoe held on, for it was a settled principle in his mind never to give in. At first the check upon Charlie’s speed was imperceptible, but by degrees the weight of the gigantic dog began to tell, and after a time they fell a little to the rear; then by good fortune the troop passed through a mass of underwood, and the line getting entangled brought their mad career forcibly to a close; the mustangs passed on, and the two friends were left to keep each other company in the dark.

How long they would have remained thus is uncertain, for neither of them had sagacity enough to undo a complicated entanglement. Fortunately, however, in his energetic tugs at the line, Crusoe’s sharp teeth partially severed it, and a sudden start on the part of Charlie caused it to part. Before he could escape, Crusoe again seized the end of it, and led him slowly but steadily back to the Indian camp, never halting or turning aside until he had placed the line in Dick Varley’s hand.’

Loved the dog parts throughout the book. Overall liked the rest of the book, but with my modern sensibility to the plight of the Native Americans it made me want to root for the Indians who got such a raw deal out of the settling of the west. show less

It's necessary to remember this book was published in 1858: _24 years before_ "Treasure Island." Public executions were still carried out in England and slavery was still legal in the US. Calling out issues of racism and imperialism here are a factor of presentism in the mind of the reader, even if the cannibalism and missionary zeal are exaggerated for dramatic effect. So, then.

So much of Ballantyne's narrative concerns the three central characters' observations, rationalizations, and show more accommodations of their new surroundings and circumstances that I could not help but make an intuitive leap; this book is not only the first major "boy's adventure" for Victorian literature, but is THE archetype of YA SFF published today. The bulk of this book reads like a standard YA portal fantasy or SF crashlanded-on-a-strange-planet novel the likes of which Andre Norton or (gasp) Robert Heinlein might have written, only in decidedly florid nineteenth-century prose. It's worth reading if only to see that, but then the 3 teens are likeable, the story breezy and exciting, and it's really neat to see how Pacific Islands were such an alien world to English readers at the time that such details were dazzling.

On the downside, there is a projected optimism that strains belief: things work out too well too often. I can see how & why Golding spun this same story into "The Lord of the Flies" a century later (whoopee, Cold War cynicism). Also, the Christian proselytizing is too thick in the last act to be carried by the narrative, and the narrative itself fizzles at the end rather than arrives anywhere. I wonder if he anticipated writing a sequel? show less

Shipwrecks and Pirates and Cannibals, Oh My!

Young Adult adventure novel from 1857 set in the South Seas is a tad overwritten for today's reader but still a good yarn nonetheless. Natural history descriptions are surprisingly accurate given when it was written. Recommended for preteen boys whose mothers don't mind gruesome descriptions of cannibalistic practices.