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Interesting. Whereas the previous book of this series, Brian's Return, picks up the story at the end of The River (the first sequel to 1988 Newbery Honoree Hatchet), Brian's Hunt instead follows Brian's Winter, the alternate sequel to Hatchet. Rather than Brian serendipitously releasing a radio signal from the airplane's communicator at the bottom of the lake adjacent to where he was stranded in the Canadian wilderness and subsequently being rescued, he had to bunker down and withstand the ungodly winter of the extreme American north. After making it through the worst of winter, he found refuge with a Cree trapper named David Smallhorn and his family, who contacted the authorities and arranged to reunite Brian with his parents. Whether or not the events of The River and Brian's Return can be finessed to fit with this alternative plot that leads to Brian's Hunt, our now sixteen-year-old protagonist has all the connections and bonus knowledge of the outdoors he accrued in Brian's Winter, and his ties to the Smallhorn family are key to what happens next as he returns to the wilderness life with his parents' consent. After beating the odds to survive his first stint in the wild, Brian has found it difficult to reintegrate with his former life. His instincts are honed to such a sharp edge that he reverts to fight-or-flight response too easily, and that makes him do inappropriate things in urbane society. Brian finds that he's happier living isolated in the woods, at least for periods of time. He's not planning to forsake his parents and modern existence completely, but the new Brian needs plenty of alone time if he's to live up to social expectations when he's back in civilization. The vast Canadian bush is his home now, as much as the house he shares with his mother, and he grows more comfortable with that reality each time he ventures into the forest and reconnects with the part of his soul he left there.
The ability to hunt from a canoe is Brian's decisive advantage over his woodland prey. Birds, fish, moose, and bears mentally register the small, drifting boat as a log, giving Brian opportunity to get a close shot with his bow and arrow. Brian had to develop proper hunting technique right away to survive his first go-round in the wild, and his skills rarely fail now. More often than not, however, he passes up open shots at large animals that would provide plentiful game, unwilling to kill anything he can't cook and consume before most of the meat spoils. But Brian's focus changes when a big dog seeks him out along the riverbank, badly injured and crying for help. As Brian tends to the Malamute's serious wounds, he tries to figure what could have caused the deep, slashing cuts in the animal's magnificent fur. The nature of the damage points to a wolf or bear, but this dog is clearly domesticated, so why would she have left her master after a ferocious animal hurt her? Wouldn't it make sense to seek treatment from her master for the bloody lacerations she sustained? Every avenue of speculation leads to a dead end for Brian, but his instincts urge him to follow the river immediately in his canoe with the dog, toward the island inhabited by David Smallhorn and his wife and children, to find out if they can shed light on the disquieting mystery. Heading north as quickly as possible, Brian can't shake the dread filling his stomach, the primal apprehension that something awful beyond description awaits up north even as he knows he must go there and confront it.
In the same spirit of unrestricted frontier warfare that defined Brian's Return, Brian's Hunt winds rapidly toward its whirlwind climax, a battle of wilderness savvy between man and beast that both cannot survive. Brian has sought sanctuary in the bush not because he enjoys slaughtering animals for food or in self-defense, but because his kinship with the wild is as natural and sublime as man's reflexive breathing. He doesn't derive any thrill from killing animals, but recognizes that feeding on them is necessary for autonomous sustenance out here away from convenience stores and banks. Killing is sometimes required to stop a predatory threat, as well, or to right a wrong when a savage animal crosses the line and perpetrates violence against humans that can't be ignored or tolerated. Brian understands these rules of nature as well as anyone, but he's also starting to discover a wilderness concept that's new to him: Man, even should he desire to be by himself, needs the company of others. He needs someone to share his thoughts between extended silences, to help bear his existential burden by kindling a fire of friendship to ward off the dismal cold of aloneness as surely as a campfire emits lifesaving heat on deathly winter nights. Without fire, man can't survive long in the bush, but without a friend he can't truly live, and for the first time since his airplane crashed in the wilderness when he was thirteen, Brian feels the benefits of kinship when he takes the injured dog under his wing and they team up to face the horror that chased the dog from home. Their journey will change everything for boy and dog.
The fourth and fifth Brian's Saga novels aren't as captivating as Hatchet, The River, and Brian's Winter, but they make their own valuable contribution to the series. Brian's Return has been described as Henry David Thoreau for the junior set, and there's some of that naturalistic philosophy in Brian's Hunt, the acceptance and espousal of harsh realities about man living as part of nature and the footprint he leaves regardless of how conscientious he is to limit it. Aside from the excitement of the climactic pursuit, Brian's Hunt makes salient points about our need for relationships, the validation we find in the presence of others no matter how much a loner we fancy ourselves. People need each other, there's no getting around that. The question is, what will we do to address that need? I might consider giving Brian's Hunt two and a half stars, and I never tire of being transported by Gary Paulsen to settings of wilderness intrigue that can be found right here in our contemporary world. We're better off for having been influenced by Brian's Saga, and I hope the series helps readers discover truths about themselves and the wondrous world surrounding them forever. That's a legacy befitting Gary Paulsen, and I have little doubt it will come to fulfillment.
The ability to hunt from a canoe is Brian's decisive advantage over his woodland prey. Birds, fish, moose, and bears mentally register the small, drifting boat as a log, giving Brian opportunity to get a close shot with his bow and arrow. Brian had to develop proper hunting technique right away to survive his first go-round in the wild, and his skills rarely fail now. More often than not, however, he passes up open shots at large animals that would provide plentiful game, unwilling to kill anything he can't cook and consume before most of the meat spoils. But Brian's focus changes when a big dog seeks him out along the riverbank, badly injured and crying for help. As Brian tends to the Malamute's serious wounds, he tries to figure what could have caused the deep, slashing cuts in the animal's magnificent fur. The nature of the damage points to a wolf or bear, but this dog is clearly domesticated, so why would she have left her master after a ferocious animal hurt her? Wouldn't it make sense to seek treatment from her master for the bloody lacerations she sustained? Every avenue of speculation leads to a dead end for Brian, but his instincts urge him to follow the river immediately in his canoe with the dog, toward the island inhabited by David Smallhorn and his wife and children, to find out if they can shed light on the disquieting mystery. Heading north as quickly as possible, Brian can't shake the dread filling his stomach, the primal apprehension that something awful beyond description awaits up north even as he knows he must go there and confront it.
In the same spirit of unrestricted frontier warfare that defined Brian's Return, Brian's Hunt winds rapidly toward its whirlwind climax, a battle of wilderness savvy between man and beast that both cannot survive. Brian has sought sanctuary in the bush not because he enjoys slaughtering animals for food or in self-defense, but because his kinship with the wild is as natural and sublime as man's reflexive breathing. He doesn't derive any thrill from killing animals, but recognizes that feeding on them is necessary for autonomous sustenance out here away from convenience stores and banks. Killing is sometimes required to stop a predatory threat, as well, or to right a wrong when a savage animal crosses the line and perpetrates violence against humans that can't be ignored or tolerated. Brian understands these rules of nature as well as anyone, but he's also starting to discover a wilderness concept that's new to him: Man, even should he desire to be by himself, needs the company of others. He needs someone to share his thoughts between extended silences, to help bear his existential burden by kindling a fire of friendship to ward off the dismal cold of aloneness as surely as a campfire emits lifesaving heat on deathly winter nights. Without fire, man can't survive long in the bush, but without a friend he can't truly live, and for the first time since his airplane crashed in the wilderness when he was thirteen, Brian feels the benefits of kinship when he takes the injured dog under his wing and they team up to face the horror that chased the dog from home. Their journey will change everything for boy and dog.
The fourth and fifth Brian's Saga novels aren't as captivating as Hatchet, The River, and Brian's Winter, but they make their own valuable contribution to the series. Brian's Return has been described as Henry David Thoreau for the junior set, and there's some of that naturalistic philosophy in Brian's Hunt, the acceptance and espousal of harsh realities about man living as part of nature and the footprint he leaves regardless of how conscientious he is to limit it. Aside from the excitement of the climactic pursuit, Brian's Hunt makes salient points about our need for relationships, the validation we find in the presence of others no matter how much a loner we fancy ourselves. People need each other, there's no getting around that. The question is, what will we do to address that need? I might consider giving Brian's Hunt two and a half stars, and I never tire of being transported by Gary Paulsen to settings of wilderness intrigue that can be found right here in our contemporary world. We're better off for having been influenced by Brian's Saga, and I hope the series helps readers discover truths about themselves and the wondrous world surrounding them forever. That's a legacy befitting Gary Paulsen, and I have little doubt it will come to fulfillment.