The Last of the Mohicans

By and large, I found Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans a rather enjoyable read and even frequently humorous, though I'm reasonably sure that humor was not in the author's mind as he wrote in early 19th century America. This needs explaining, but first let's consider why I read the book in the first place. After all, it was first published in 1826, 197 years ago (and counting). The age of the novel is precisely why I determined to read it. After all, to quote history.com, it is considered to be “one of the earliest distinctive American novels.” To expand on this, britannica.com notes that “by the first decades of the 19th century, a truly American literature began to emerge. Though still derived from British literary tradition, show more the short stories and novels published from 1800 through the 1820s began to depict American society and explore the American landscape in an unprecedented manner.” Britannica goes on to cite Cooper as a defining example of a novelist of this period. It seemed obvious to me that, if one wishes to profess any knowledge of American literature, one needs to be at least familiar with Cooper's works, yet he was studied neither in my university course on “The Novel” nor in my course on “American Literature,” so I decided to rectify the omission.

Now to explain my introductory statement about humor. Language, being a social and cultural creation, is characterized by continuous evolution with neologisms popping up here and there, older words vanishing into the mists of forgetfulness, words remaining but with new uses and connotations, new styles of expression, and so on. In addition to language, societal assumptions, biases, and values are in a constant state of flux as well, and that which is considered a positive trait today may wear a negative face tomorrow, and that which is felt to be an objective truth now may well be seen as a prejudice born of ignorance in the future. Reading books such as The Last of the Mohicans opens a window through which one can view societal mores and the language by which they are described as they existed, in this case, nearly two centuries ago. Such an experience should thoroughly disabuse one of the erroneous belief that society is in any way permanent or stagnant and may also give the reader a chuckle or two at the changes that have occurred.

Cooper's writing style, while perfectly professional and polished for a literate man of his age, frequently appears stilted and grandiloquent when contrasted with 20th and 21st century styles. The apparent formality of the language contrasts so abruptly with the forested frontier environment and the struggles of the characters that I found it a source of continual amusement.

Similarly, many of the traits with which Cooper has imbued his characters have undergone significant social reappraisal in the most recent 200 years. For example, the two significant female characters in the novel receive the most admirable praise for their decorum and “alabaster” features. Portrayed as having achieved the very best features representative of their sex, they are in continual need of the strong care and protection of an honorable male member of the species, and, as their aging father laments, are surely unable to endure the privations of being captives in a wild forest. Far from appearing such fine examples of proper womanhood today, they would now be best described as “shrinking violets” and likely admonished to “stand on their own two feet.” It is amusing to compare the traits considered admirable in Cooper's time with such traits today.

In a similar vein, Cooper's depiction of his Native American characters highlights stereotypes beautifully. The character of Uncas, obviously the inspiration for the book's title, is the “noble savage” personified. All of the Natives, of course, display powers of concealment, of hearing, of discovery, and of every other facet of woodlore necessary for survival in the wilderness that far surpass those available to white men thanks to their intrinsic natures. True, as a result of his experience in the forest, Hawkeye exhibits similar traits, but every time the scout alludes to them he indicates how unusual it is for him who has no “cross” (i.e., mixed-race blood) to have such skills. He is very much the exception, not the rule, to be a white man with such abilities. As with our comely ladies, a comparison of yesterday's stereotypes with today's slightly more enlightened knowledge can evoke a few chuckles from the reader.

The very plot of the novel even has a humorous aspect. Really now, why are two very ladylike daughters of an elderly post commandant even being escorted through the trackless forest inhabited by hostile Indians in the midst of the French and Indian War far from the frontiers of civilization? That beggars belief. I am almost convinced that Cooper wrote this entertaining novel with his tongue firmly embedded in his cheek, and for that I rate him an even more entertaining author than I originally thought. Whether Cooper was intending to be deadly serious in his depictions and narratives or whether he was adroitly poking a bit of fun at his credulous 19th century readers, The Last of the Mohicans, as we read it in the 21st century, is an entertaining tale with more than a little levity in it—even if we modern readers have contributed that levity. True, the ending is a bit sad (not every character survives), but it's also an early and surprisingly progressive look (at least at the spiritual level) at what American society would later term amalgamation and, later still, miscegenation. Might Cooper be launching a very small and partially disguised criticism at one of society's prejudices?

Whether or not a reader will enjoy this novel depends greatly upon his or her reasons for picking it up as well as on his or her expectations. In its writing, it is quite different from a modern 21st century adventure novel. If one does choose to read it, enjoy the fictional and highly romanticized adventure, but keep a corner of the mind open to—just possibly—a touch of intentional humor and perhaps even a bit of social commentary hidden among the narratives. We can always debate later as to whether the author intended these things or whether we readers are injecting them ourselves. show less

In 1757, during the French and Indian War, Cora and Alice Munro are traveling to meet their father, who is currently in command of Fort William Henry. Major Duncan Heyward is escorting them, along with their Native American guide, Magua. The deeper the group journeys into the wilderness, the more they begin to suspect that Magua is steering them wrong. Fortunately, they stumble upon Hawkeye, a scout, and his Mohican companions, Chingachgook and Uncas. When the new group points out that Magua has indeed betrayed the ladies, Magua escapes into the woods, rounds up reinforcements, and persistently hunts his erstwhile companions.

I added this to a list of classics that I'd like to read someday because the movie starring Daniel Day-Lewis was show more filmed around Western North Carolina, where I live, and parts were even filmed within a few miles of my parents' house. My husband and I are currently traveling around the country with his job, so when I realized the book actually takes place around Lake George, New York, only about an hour away from where we are this summer, I knew the time had come to tackle it.

The book was a little bit of a slog but that's partly on me. I can only remember one scene from the movie and it's a sad one. I don't particularly like sad books so I kept avoiding it. The writing is also an odd mix of a lot of action buried under very dense sentence structure. I had to take my time wading through each sentence to figure out what exactly was going on. I'm generally a fast reader and have a hard time slowing myself down for this kind of book. I start to get resentful that it's taking me so long to read the darn thing!

My husband and I finally went up to visit Lake George about the time I was reaching the last few chapters and it's a beautiful place. Fort William Henry, where some pivotal action takes place, was rebuilt in the 1950s so we toured it. I enjoyed seeing the real life place where the fictional book was set. It really added to my experience.

The book was written in 1826 and the language and treatment of the Native American characters reflects that. It wasn't as bad as I expected but as a White woman, I don't know if I'm the best judge. Among the occasional derogatory remarks and stereotypical "silly superstitions," there is some true depth to the Native American characters. Their dwindling populations and lands are treated with a degree of poignancy, in my opinion. For what that's worth.

The edition I checked out of the library is beautifully illustrated with watercolors by Patrick Prugne. It's a gorgeous book.

I liked reading about America in the pre-Revolutionary years, a time I know little about. If the historical period interests you, this is definitely worth a read. show less

Introduction and Notes by David Blair. University of Kent at Canterbury.

It is 1757. Across north-eastern America the armies of Britain and France struggle for ascendancy. Their conflict, however, overlays older struggles between nations of native Americans for possession of the same lands and between the native peoples and white colonisers. Through these layers of conflict Cooper threads a thrilling narrative, in which Cora and Alice Munro, daughters of a British commander on the front line of the colonial war, attempt to join their father. Thwarted by Magua, the sinister 'Indian runner', they find help in the person of Hawkeye, the white woodsman, and his companions, the Mohican Chingachgook and Uncas, his son, the last of his show more tribe.

Cooper's novel is full of vivid incident- pursuits through wild terrain, skirmishes, treachery and brutality- but reflects also on the interaction between the colonists and the native peoples. Through the character of Hawkeye, Cooper raises lasting questions about the practises of the American frontier and the eclipse of the indigenous cultures.

And, a few thoughts of my own.
Natives were brutal in their battles. The conflict is not white vs. native, but native vs. native, vs. French and British global ambitions. Magua is the antagonist, and the half-white, half-Mohican Hawkeye is the protagonist. Cooper authentically and appreciatively portrays natives, which subverts the radical view that whites are supremacists.

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851) stands as one of America's first major novelists and a complex chronicler of the nation's westward expansion. Best known for his Leatherstocking Tales, including "The Last of the Mohicans," Cooper captured both the romance and tragedy of America's frontier experience during the height of Manifest Destiny.

Writing during the era when Americans believed it was their divine mission to expand across the continent, Cooper displayed a uniquely nuanced perspective on this national ideology. His novels celebrated the rugged individualism and natural nobility he saw in frontier life, portraying the American wilderness as a source of moral purification and democratic virtue. Yet Cooper also served as one of the earliest critics of unchecked expansion, particularly in his sympathetic portrayals of Native Americans facing displacement and cultural destruction.

Through characters like Natty Bumppo (Hawkeye), Cooper embodied the American pioneer spirit while simultaneously mourning what was lost in the process. His work revealed the inherent tensions in Manifest Destiny—the simultaneous celebration of progress and recognition of its human costs. Cooper understood that America's westward march brought both opportunity and tragedy, civilization and destruction.

This duality made Cooper both a product of his expansionist age and a prophet warning of its consequences. His literary legacy lies not just in establishing American literature as distinct from European traditions, but in providing one of the first artistic examinations of the moral complexities underlying America's continental ambitions. Cooper saw Manifest Destiny as both America's greatest opportunity and its most troubling moral challenge until Americans struggled with the rising Democrat Party's advocacy of slavery. show less

This novel is set in 1757 during the Seven Years War when Britain and France battled for control of North America. It is very well written, with evocative descriptions of the landscape, and portrays the multi-faceted life of the various tribes of North American "Red Indians", depicting Native American characters in way in a way that no significant American had done before. There are, of course, still examples of the language of the time (published in 1826) that we wouldn't use today ("savages" vs. "civilised men"), but he portrays a rich variety of characters, including the central character, the young and heroic Uncas and his dignified father Chingachgook, and the villainous Magua; compared to these, the white European-American show more characters are much blander, particularly the sisters Cora and Alice, who are depicted as beautiful bland ciphers, as young female characters so often were in 19th century literature on both sides of the Atlantic. Between them is the figure of Hawkeye/Natty Bumppo, a white man raised by Delaware Indians, able to act as a bridge between the two cultures. The action of the novel revolves around the rescue of Cora and Alice from the clutches of the Hurons who have kidnapped them, and contains some impressive and violent set pieces, involving much scalping. There were passages where my interest waned, nevertheless this is deservedly an early classic of American literature. show less

The Year: 1757.
The Place: A vast, unspoiled wilderness that would now be called upstate New York.
The Book: Exciting in fits and starts, but generally a bit slow.

This book took me forever to read, not because it was especially long, but just because it dragged. Reading it shortly after Neal Stephenson's [b:Reamde|10552338|Reamde|Neal Stephenson|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1305993115s/10552338.jpg|15458989], which was so riveting that I was reading it late at night and sneaking a few pages during breaks at work, it's probably unfair to hold this early 19th century work to the same standard.

The action scenes were actually very well done - far better, in terms of pacing and description, than contemporary works such as the plodding show more [b:Frankenstein|18490|Frankenstein|Mary Shelley|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1311647465s/18490.jpg|4836639]. And many of the characters (the male ones, anyway) are fantastic: Magua is legitimately menacing, Hawkeye likable, and Duncan frustrating-yet-admirable. Unfortunately, the female characters are fainting, two-dimensional rescue bait, to the point that one of them spends literally half the book being physically carried around over the bad guy's shoulder.

In addition, this book definitely shares the downfall of a lot of early 19th century fiction, that of overly flowery, elegant, and inauthentic-sounding dialogue. Too often, conversations in the book come off like correspondence, as even these supposed "men of action," in the middle of stressful situations, trade long, eloquently composed aphorisms. As a 21st century reader who's been through a lot of Elmore Leonard and Stephen King, it's hard for me to swallow.

I don't regret reading this book, but in hindsight, I probably only finished it because of its historical significance; I would have quit reading a modern novel that bogged down so badly. show less

If time travel were possible, I'd go back in time and assassinate James Fenimore Cooper before he ever put pen to paper (in this imaginary scenario, let it be known that I also possess mad ninja skills). Why do I hate Cooper so much? Let me count the ways:

1) His never-ending description of every rock, twig, river, etc., that the main characters come into contact with. No pebble escapes his scrutiny. This book would have been 3 pages long without the description. And even then, it would have been 3 pages too long.

2) Native American dialogue is limited to the occasional exclamation of "Hugh." Not Hugh as in Hefner, but something more like "huh." They're a quiet people, apparently. I'm shocked they don't greet each other by saying, "How."

2 show more 1/2) While we're on the subject, they're all stereotypes of either the noble savage variety or the "me big chief Ugh-a-Mug gotta have 'em squaw" variety. The whole thing is a racist piece of crap. And don't tell me that Cooper was reflecting the beliefs of the time because, while that may explain the racism, it doesn't explain away the crap bit.

3) Practically every speech by Hawk-eye will contain some bit of dialogue such as, "Even though white blood runs through my veins." Lest we forget he's white since he's been hobnobbing with the natives for so long.

4) Those damn women just keep getting kidnapped.

5) For an action story, it's mind-numbingly boring. To illustrate, I give you a riveting, action packed scene in which Duncan, the British officer, tries to distract le Renard Subtil (also known as Magua, also known as Wes Studi in the film) with a discussion of French etymology. Dash cunning of him, don't you think? It sure would have sucked if he had just attacked him with a knife, a gun, or even a rapier wit. Apparently Duncan's plan was to wear down his enemy with sheer boredom:

'Here is some confusion in names between us, le Renard,' said Duncan, hoping to provoke a discussion. 'Daim is the French for deer, and cerf for stag; elan is the true term, when one would speak of an elk.'

6) Everyone is known by about three or four different names, because anything less would have been confusing. Right, Coop?

7) Did I mention that it's just frickin' boring? I would rather slam my head in a car door than ever read this book again.

The best part about the book was that there were entire sections in French. For once, lack of knowledge about a foreign language has paid off! I was practically giddy with excitement when I encountered entire pages of French dialogue as it meant, mon Dieu!, I got to skip the entire page. show less

Important novel in American history/literature. Good story, with empathy for both the Native American and European characters. That said, it is a Romantic novel, stuck in the style and biases of the time and of the genre. The writing is over-wrought, sometimes turgid, and often frustrating in its nineteenth century formalisms. I'm glad to have read it, but won't be reading any of the rest of the Leatherstocking series.