If this book had begun the drama and tension of its second half in the first half, then I would probably have given it an 8 or a 9. As it is, the first half drags, while the second half picks up the pace.

The first half of this book is stultifying. I had to slog through pages upon pages of the four protagonist going through their daily lives and then preparing (mundanely) for their white-water trip. The first half continues with the early part of their adventures outside, which seems to consist mostly of beer-drinking, manly displays of strength, and petty complaints about each other. In hindsight the first half of the book is necessary for character development, but surely Dickey could have done a better job with it.

Halfway through the book, however, a major event occurs that completely changes the feel of the story. The event itself is harrowing--indeed, it is all the more shocking given the placid style of the first half. And from that moment forward Dickey doesn't let up. Events pile on top of each other, one by one, and the tension ratchets up without any out-of-the-blue moments intruding upon the narrative. I will remember for a long time some of Dickey's best scenes in the second half of the book: Ed's climb up the cliff, his waiting in the tree, the protagonists' final plunge through the white-waters, and more.

The narrative of the second half of the book is enriched by Dickey's lush depictions of nature. There's no purple prose here, fortunately, and yet despite his clean style Dickey manages to convey the full power of the river, the majesty of the cliffs, the sensation of staying up all night in the open without cover. At times, particularly in his description of wounds, Dickey's writing can be too graphically intense to stomach, but he tends to juxtapose the particularly gory segments with some truly beautiful descriptions of the setting. (I've read that Dickey was originally a poet; this comes as no surprise.)

I also appreciated the sharp, snappy dialogue of Deliverance, particularly since I read this shortly after enduring the aimless, meandering dialogue of Kobo Abe's The Ark Sakura. Although it seems at first that every character sounds the same, through a combination of subtle style changes as well as expert characterization, Dickey does a superb job distinguishing one character from the other.

And now, my take on the point of the whole book. I'm glad that Dickey didn't thump me over the head with any one overriding message. In the first half I was afraid that this book would end up being some testosterone-fueled celebration of primitive man; this illusion was quickly dispelled only a few pages into the second half of the book. But it is also not a story about the dangers of nature. Ed Gentry, the chief protagonist, is both deeply scarred by his journey as well as subtly improved--he returns home, for instance, with a deep and abiding love for his wife, but he is incapable of firing a broadhead arrow from his bow, as he used to do. What Ed takes with him from the trip (at least in my opinion) is a more complex understanding of friendship and the strength of the human spirit, as well as a better understanding of the depths and heights of which he is capable. In some sense all this knowledge is good, but in another it is deeply disturbing; and it is a testament to Dickey's skills in the second half of the book that all of these feelings come through without him devoting a single sentence to them.

Copyright © 2002 Steven Wu