Rating: 
Summary: A Great Read
Review: John McPhee is simply a great writer. His skill is the leading character of this novel which is full of intriguing individuals. From characters like the author himself -- who changes and is challenged himself by the environment -- to fellow canoe riders, to grisslies, to yuppie suburbanites, to the self-made, this book delves into what makes people move to Alaska, to adapt, to stay, to survive, to be frustrated, and to not want to be anywhere else.
Rating:
Summary: One of the best books from one of America's best writers
Review: John McPhee, it's often noted, can write about anythying and make it interesting, so when he tackles a subject as broad and fascinating as Alaska you know you're in for a treat. The book is divided into three parts; it begins in modern Urban Alaska, with the story of its history and contemporary society. From McPhee takes you to the remote villages and towns, a place still populated by Native peoples and rugged outdoorsmen (and women). The last chapter concerns Alaska's last frontier- the remote North Slope, and the men who drill for oil there. Like all McPhee books, the author seems to fade into the background and let the people and the land tell the story for him. Sometimes the reader feels as if or she, and not McPhee, is standing there on an oil rig. Alaska is a rich topic, and McPhee is a wonderful writer. A great combination.
Rating:
Summary: Still the Best on Alaska
Review: Lots of writers have tried to convey Alaska to non-Alaskans. Few have succeeded. Those who have are the ones who have chosen to illustrate small parts of the larger whole, and selected the right parts. Margaret Murie comes to mind. But 16 years on, Coming Into the Country is still the best. I own and have read everything McPhee has written. I subscribe to New Yorker mostly for the annual or biennial piece by McPhee. I like the geology series very much, and parts of Birch Bark Canoe still make me laugh out loud, but Country is his best book. McPhee's many gifts including finding and understanding interesting, compelling people, and writing about them eloquently and non-judgmentally. He uses those people and what they say to convey his larger themes. Stan Gelvin and his dad, Willie Hensley and, of course, the folks in and around Eagle. He somehow wrangled a seat on the state capital relocation committee's helicopter. He somehow charmed the irascible Joe Vogler into candor. I talked with Vogler - who has since been murdered in a gun deal gone bad - about McPhee's interview, and he told me that McPhee took no notes during interviews over a week, and yet "pretty much got it right." I've lived in Alaska most of my life. I've read the gushy stuff (Michener, for example), the political diatribes (Joe McGinnis, for example), and the gee-whiz tourist fodder. McPhee, instead of trying to paint the whole state, paints a series of miniatures which give you a much accurate glimpse than the writers and hacks who try to "describe" Alaska. Maybe it's that America's best non-fiction writer brought his special tools and skills to the right opportunities; maybe it's just luck. It all came together in this book. The last bit, his walk down to the river and the growing worry, verging on panic, that this is wilderness, that a bear could be around the next corner, that he is not in control and can never be in control; the eloquence and the message are what makes Alaska. No one has described it better. If you want to try to understand Alaska, its people, its politics and why I live here, this book is the best place to start. This book is a great writer's greatest book.
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