Tag Archives: Maine

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The Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Subtitled The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit, this nonfiction book introduces us to Chris Knight, a man who spent 27 years living alone in a tent in the Maine woods. Not alone the way Thoreau was at Walden Pond, where he entertained guests and took his laundry home to his mother, but truly alone. In all that time, the only word Knight uttered to another person was a gruff Hi to a hiker he ran into.

Obsessed with avoiding discovery, or even another chance encounter, he never built a fire or walked in the woods when there was snow on the ground. When the ground was dry, he knew the woods so well that he could move through them without making a sound or leaving a sign.

In researching this book, Finkel sets out to answer the questions we can’t help but ask: Why would he choose such a life? How did he survive the winters in just a tent? What about food, medicine, etc.? No matter how much you cut back on that etcetera, you surely need a sharp knife, a candle or lantern, clothes to replace those that wear out.

We learn, often in his own words, how Chris broke into nearby cabins to steal food, clothing, reading material, and other things—only dire necessities and only cabins that didn’t have year-round occupants. People in the area told stories about the North Pond hermit, and it was during a theft that he was finally arrested.

Wondering why anyone would choose such a hard path, Finkel delves into the lives of solitaries, from the Desert Fathers and anchorites to solitary confinement in prisons. He reviews current thinking about the autism spectrum and goes further to consult scientists about a physical component.

One’s desire to be alone, biologists have found, is partially genetic and to some degree measurable. If you have low levels of the pituitary peptide oxytocin, sometimes called the master chemical of sociability, and high quantities of the hormone vasopressin, which may suppress your need for affection, you tend to require fewer interpersonal relationships.

Nurture always goes hand in hand with nature, and we learn that Chris’s family was compulsively private, living off the grid and having only minimal contact with neighbors. When 20-year-old Chris disappeared, driving away from his first and only job (one that he’d only barely begun), they didn’t report him missing or try to find him.

Finkel interviews Chris in jail and exchanges letters with him, thus giving us first-person accounts of Chris’s life in the woods. I can only imagine, having worked in one, how awful jail must have been for this man who had lived in silence (aside from natural sounds) for 27 years.

It’s a fascinating story, and one ripe for discussion. Was Chris lucky to be arrested before he aged to the point where he could no longer manage his survival? He was already slowing down. While he never took much, Chris’s thefts scared people and invaded their privacy; only once he was arrested did they return to not locking their doors. And what about Finkel himself? His pursuit of Chris in the face of the man’s reluctance to talk or meet with him borders on stalking. Or does it cross over? Is it okay because he’s brought us this incredible story?

While privacy ranks high on my list of moral imperatives, I have to admit that I’m grateful to know this much of Chris’s story. I make time to be alone, preferably among the trees, when I can. I’ve lived in a tent in the New England woods, though in a shelter with a wood stove in the winter. I would never do what he did, but a part of me understands it.

It’s possible that Knight believed he was one of the few sane people left. He was confounded by the idea that passing the prime of your life in a cubicle, spending hours a day at a computer, in exchange for money, was considered acceptable, but relaxing in a tent in the woods was disturbed. Observing the trees was indolent; cutting them down was enterprising. What did Knight do for a living? He lived for a living.

Have you read a story—fiction or nonfiction—about someone who has turned their back on society?

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The Midcoast, by Adam White

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This debut novel takes place in Damariscotta, a small town on the coast of Maine. Andrew grew up there and has recently returned to teach at the high school. As the story opens, he and his family come to a reception for the Amherst women’s lacrosse team at the home of Ed and Steph Thatch.

As a teenager Andrew had worked for Ed at the Lobster Pound and is surprised by the lobsterman’s rise in the world, wealthy enough now to own this huge estate and to send his daughter to Amherst. Andrew had briefly met Steph as a teen and is equally surprised to find her practically running the town.

During the party, Andrew wanders through the Thatches’ house and notices some photos of a burned car with two bodies in it. An hour later, state police cruisers arrive. The rest of the story becomes Andrew’s attempt to learn how Ed and Steph got to this point, exploring his own memories, researching archives, and interviewing people involved.

Opening a story with the last scene is a technique that’s fine for an episode of a television drama. In a novel, though, I believe there are subtler and more interesting ways to create suspense. Still, there is much to like in this book.

Although the story moves around in time—delving into Andrew’s past and what he can reconstruct of Ed and Steph’s, skipping forward into the present where Andrew is considering writing a book about the couple—I had no trouble following it. The author does a good job with creating logical transitions and grounding each new scene in time and place.

Ed and Steph’s progress from blue-collar to the most powerful couple in town, from trailer to mansion, has larger resonances, something I always appreciate in a story. Ambition and the corruption that often accompanies it fill today’s headlines. Their story also reflects the changes Steph brings to the town to turn it into a tourist destination, creating what some natives find a false image.

The author actually grew up in Damariscotta, now living in Boston with his wife and son, so he is able to bring a wonderful level of detail to his depiction of the town and its people. I wonder, though, how the people who live there feel about the book, especially those who are portrayed as corrupt or sycophantic.

The story of a wealthy man with a possibly shady past narrated by a neighbor, naturally brings to mind The Great Gatsby. That’s setting a high bar for yourself as a writer! For me, Ed and Steph don’t measure up to Gatsby and Daisy. The Thatches seem like ordinary people, so I didn’t quite buy their epic devotion to each other, Ed’s seeming invulnerability, or Andrew’s obsession with them. More character development would have helped.

Still, the story kept me interested through to the end. Living now in a small New England town myself, I was especially intrigued by the workings of Damariscotta, such as the power mechanisms, the class conflicts, and the peculiar attitude toward those who return after leaving.

With elements of mystery and thriller, this book is solidly in the general fiction category. It’s an enjoyable first novel, and I look forward to seeing the author’s next book.

What novel have you read set in Maine?