Coming into the country is my first introduction to John McPhee and I was blown away. He writes so plainly and with so little flourish that he as the narrator and first-person narrator at that, seems to disappear completely. It's a wonderful portrait of life in the bush of Alaska and it has never seemed more relevant. The characters in the book create drama to fill their quiet lives. They complain about big government and their constitutional rights on every turn. It was a reminder that at all chapters of our country's history there have been those, who recognizing their freedom to do so, rail against the limitations of that freedom.

It's charming, illuminating and in the end it felt like it flew by. I highly recommend the Audiobook.

McPhee has a remarkable way with words, and this collection of essays about the colorful people, history, and land of Alaska is no exception.

I love true stories. Reality is so much more interesting than fiction. Especially when the story is about life on the margins in places like Alaska. John McPhee writes a lot about the margins in “Coming into the Country”. Especially that margin where modernity ends. “Coming into the Country” captures slices of life on the margins in the unpopulated interior of Alaska, traveling along the Kobuk river, the life in the bush surrounding Eagle, Alaska, and the nuances of local politics when it comes to siting a new capital.

Some people moved to Alaska because they sought those margins, they wanted to test themselves, test and sharpen their skills, and be individuals. (Also, skills vary from person to person, and getting along with others is a skill necessary for society, a lot of the individuals in Mr. McPhee’s book lack this skill!) For others, including the Alaska natives, they were dealing with the influx of people. Mr. McPhee does give a passing voice to the adjacent native village in Eagle, their struggles, and lives.

This book was written in the late 60s to mid 70s. That was a pivotal period for Alaska with statehood and federal influence being relatively new, the pipeline construction, the implementation of the Alaska Native Settlement Act, and the coming creation of large parks and preserves in Alaska. Many of the individuals in the book didn’t like the upheaval and federal/state laws influencing their living on the margin.

I thought it was kind of funny that, while the individualists in the book didn’t like outside intrusion, they did seem to like the jobs and the money that came with the jobs, esp. the pipeline. Go figure, people don’t mind change, just as long as its on their terms.

McPhee’s talent for writing about the natural world is only surpassed by his eye for people, who are the beating heart of his work. In “Coming Into The Country,” the characters who inhabit the vast northern reaches of the United States practically seem to jump off the page, generously rendered in all their imperfect glory. The warmth of these presentations contrasts richly with the frigid setting, and forms the heart and soul of the book.

This was really well narrated, I just had a difficult time getting into this. The history of Aladka, despite the interesting andedotes, didn't hold my attention. Despite this rating, I'm still desperate to visit Alaska.

Another wonderful book by McPhee. Introducing the reader to a side of Alaska that I doubt many people think about, at least I did not. There is more going on there than snow and salmon fishing. And yes, Sarah Palin was governor, but don't let that dissuade you from plunging in. I think it takes a while to get used to McPhee's style and this book tends to roam, but by the end it is all tied together quite nicely. The characters are as unique as the geography and geology, many of them are beyond comprehension in my estimation, but then, I don't live there.

Parts are fascinating, like his evocation of the Alaskan wildlands and the pioneer types who live there. Even tho it was written in the 70's I learned from this book how politically isolated Alaska is and how being independent is the prevailing attitude in its people and was therefore not too surprised at what transpired this fall during the presidential election. Everything I've ever read by John McPhee has been great.

This book made me afraid to read any other John McPhee -- and there's apparently a copious amount of McPhee -- because they might not be as perfect as this one. He writes right on the ridgeline between dull and transcendent (and transcendence, without contrast, without a reminder of what is transcended, gets dull again), and I fear that other books might tip off and be gone baby gone.

Also, Drop City was a really good book -- and most of what was good about it was taken pretty much directly from Coming into the Country (or else the author's name's more like T. Coincidence Boyle). See also: Caleb Carr nabbing the whole Diane Downs story (from Small Sacrifices), setting it in 19th century New York, and calling it The Angel of Darkness.

I love McPhee's writing. I first read this book when it was published in part in the New Yorker, and again soon after it was published as a book. So this is the third time I've read it. I've read maybe ten books three times, so I really, really like this.

First, because McPhee writes so beautifully. He could write about anything and I would read it. I've even read his geology books. Not because I like geology, (I don't), but because I just eat up his words. It is like eating chocolate, I usually stop when the supply runs out, not because I'm finished.

Second, the people and the spirit that makes up Alaska. Everything is so unbelievably huge. I love the stories about people who cut tractors up into pieces, fly them to remote regions, weld them back together so they can build an airstrip for a bigger plane.

Third, the Alaska he writes about was disappearing when he wrote it, and has been replaced with at least two generations of Alaska since then.

I will be visiting Alaska this summer and I am looking forward to seeing what's new and what remains of the old. Will it be strip malls? I'll let you know.

On the one hand, you might say this book is predictable. Here is Alaska, "Seward's Folly," the 49th state, that last redoubt of maleness, where a man is a man, and his woman had better understand this. Nope. Nothing of the sort. Alaska is way too unforgiving for a stupidity like the battle of the sexes. No matter your gender, Alaska is harsh. One slip, and you may well have doomed yourself to starvation, or freezing to death. Or maybe a grizzly bear will have you for lunch. Jack London's story, "To Build a Fire," comes to mind. McPhee's book has three, distinct chapters, but for me, they all come down to the bottom line: This is the place to come, if you want to be left alone, further provided you have the gumption not to wander out into the wilderness by yourself (unarmed, or even armed) to do a bit of, say, bird-watching. Every now and then a book comes along that is so utterly persuasive, you know you have been there, even if you have not. McPhee's book about Alaska accomplishes this for me.

This is a book from 1976 which Outside Magazine rated as one of the best books of the decade. The book is a portrait of Alaska. Part one is a kayak and hiking trip which is so vivid it seems like you are actually there. Part two is a long drama about the vote to move Alaska's capital to a new city, which failed and I found boring. Part three is comprised of many many interviews of Alaskans, their views, and mixed in are interesting facts of Alaskan living and wildlife. Generally, the Alaskans are portrayed as folks that just were not cut out for living in the lower 48, and hold quite conservative views. This might be a good read for someone who knows nothing about Alaska.

Written more than 40 years ago, this book is an eye-opening portrait of Alaska when it was still a real wilderness area, before pipelines, global warming and Sarah Palin. :) McPhee's ability to get to know people and portray them in a kind yet honest fashion is particularly striking in this book, as he meets an entire potpourri of Alaskan types, from fur trappers and hunters to scammers and gardeners. He also has a remarkable understanding of the perennial politics of the state, and the tug-o-war between those who want progress and those who want it to remain pristine. I just love his writing.