Book Review: Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

"Perks of refusing to play by the rules: you don't have to chose between the boy who'd torture a man to death with you and the boy who'd welcome you back with pastries after."

I've been looking forward to reading this since I watched Xiran's videos on historical accuracy (or lack thereof) in the various Mulan films. And now that I'm finished, I'm chomping at the bit to read the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant. I went straight to Amazon to look for it only to see the listing as "temporaily out of stock," which was annoying. Then I noticed the publication date is next April. C'mon Amazon, it's not "out of stock" if it hasn't been published yet. Still... darn.

Anyway, the actual review.

"I dream about walking on daggers every night, you know....It feels like a nightmare, but I think it's just your life."

Is this the far future, or is it so far in the past that the history has been forgotten? I love a setting that makes you question which it is. For sake of this review, we'll say it takes place in China in the distant future.

200 years ago, the alien Hunduns took over the Zhou province. They are insect-like, and their carpaces can be reworked into armor. Humans have learned how to work this material into giant battle robots called Chrysalises. Due to the need for a balance between yin and yang qi, these battle suits require two pilots - one male and one female - to control them. But... for some reason, the female pilots - called Concubine Pilots - rarely survive a battle.

Wu Zetian was born into this world: a world where boys are valued much more highly than girls, a world where girls are essentially sold - either in marriage or to the army, a world where submission and footbinding* are standard.

*Be warned, you will learn a lot about foot binding and it's not for the faint of heart.

Zetian's sister is sold to the army, in hopes her pay will help finance their brother's wedding. But when she dies before even piloting a mission, Zetian takes it upon herself to avenge her sister's death.

Things do not go according to plan - or maybe they go better than planned. She has to contend with her sister's killer, mysogeny from every corner, getting assigned to pilot with an actual convicted murderer, and the unexpected arrival of her would-be suitor from back home. "You can't shoot me! I'm rich!" Oh, Yizhi...

Layers of secrets are unraveled and Zetian finds allies in unexpected places... and betrayal from those she counted friends. She is beaten down and beaten down and beaten down, but she rises harder and stronger - a true Iron Widow.

(By the way, did I mention this is a very loose retelling of the story of the ONLY female emperor in Chinese history? Long live Wu Zetian.)

I LOVED this book. It was the best book I've read in a while - and I've read a lot of good ones recently. (In fact, this is the best of three "teenage girls fighting the evil empire" books I've read in pretty quick succession.) With that said, though, it's not for the faint of heart. There is murder, battle, trorture, near-rape (and implied offscreen rape of minor characters), cataclismic damage to a city, and mental and physical familial abuse, including society-santioned breaking and regular re-breaking of young girls' feet. Yikes. It very closely skirts the line of what would be too much for YA (in fact, the afterword states that this is a toned-down version from an earlier draft that would very much not be YA.) But that's the stuff I love. It is also full of the fantastically sarcastic and witty humor I've come to expect from Xiran Jay Zhao's YouTube videos. You should look them up - they are hilarious (and educational!)


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Book Review: The Terror by Dan Simmons

A couple years ago, AMC produced a TV series based on this book. Jason and I really enjoyed it, and I decided I wanted to read it. I had kind of forgotten about it until reading Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan, about John Rae, the explorer who discovered what happened to the Terror and Erebus.

It was a long read (over 700 pages), but very enjoyable. Even knowing what happens, I found myself wanting to keep reading each night, wanting to keep pushing past when I should have lain down and gone to bed.

Brief overview:

In 1845, an expedition lead by Sir John Franklin sets out from England to discover the long-searched-for Northwest Passage - a water route between the Northern Atlantic and Northern Pacific oceans. The Franklin expedition - 129 men and two ships, the Erebus and the Terror - never returns and there are no confirmed survivors. This is an imagining of the horrors the crew encountered while marooned in the Arctic, including extreme winter weather, scurvy, tainted food stores, impossibly difficult physical labor, the hubris of their captain, rats, fire, and, last but not least, a monster resembling a huge polar bear that stalks the mission.

The first part of the book is told in flashbacks. It opens with now-Captain Crozier on deck, in the bone-shattering cold, giving kind of a "how we got here" overview in his head. The chapters then go back and forth for a while between a few characters - Captain Sir John Franklin, Dr. Goodsir, and others - give background on events leading up to Crozier's current situation.

Goodsir serves as kind of an everyman - an audience avatar - when he volunteers to go on an exploratory mission and fails miserably at keeping up with the hard work the other sailors endure, as well as expressing shock at Captain Franklin's callous disregard for the life of the native man his men shot by accident.

Franklin immediately establishes himself as the one who carries the blame for various failures. At a dinner party, a seasoned explorer expresses concerns that Sir John doesn't have enough supplies - of food or coal. Franklin has no clue how much he's actually bringing with him; he feels like this is someone else's job to figure out. He just smiles and nods while the other explorer grows obviously more concerned about this voyage. Franklin comes off as a hubristic idiot. Actually, calling him an idiot isn't fair - he seems to be doing it on purpose. He repeatedly ignores sound advice from Crozier - his second in command - other explorers, and various officers on his mission. There are so many things that just would not have gone wrong if he had just listened to other people... but, no, determined to rid himself of his reputation as "the man who ate his shoes" on his previous Arctic mission, he plows ahead, so certain of his own infallibility.

As mentioned above, Sir John often expresses the thought that the natives are somehow less - not worthy of saving from death, not worthy of a proper burial... In the book, many other characters also express this period-accurate disdain for the Arctic peoples they encounter. (In the show, this is toned down, with some of the characters seeming to be pro-native, and even speaking some of the Inuit language.) As was also par for the period, there's a decent amount of disdain for women, Irish characters, characters of non-noble birth, and homosexuals (exclusively referred to as "sodomites").

While the setting is bleak, and often gory, and even the most likeable characters flawed, you do find yourself rooting for most of them, hoping that at least SOME of them make it.

I've read some other reviews and opinions that the last few chapters and the fates of a couple of characters comes out of nowhere, but I didn't think so. I thought it was the sort of thing where everything these two had experienced, everything they had endured together came together to form only one possible, inevitable scenario. Want to know more?

Here be spoilers...

In the show, Captain Crozier and Lady Silence - the native woman who's father was accidentally shot by the crew - end up being the only survivors. He's taken in by her people, but their connection ends there (or at least is no more special than them both being part of a very small, close-knit community). In the book, she rescues him when he's shot multiple times by mutineers, and nurses him back to health over a period of several months. She teaches him to live like a native. They share dreams - as they began to do when Crozier suffered from severe alcohol withdrawal earlier in the book. Eventually, she takes him to be her husband. I do mean that - Lady Silence/Silna is the one who initiates a physical relationship with Crozier, though by that point he understands that they also have an intertwined fate. Their interractions in the last couple chapters seem less to me "out of nowhere" and more what happens when two people have been through so much trauma together that they come to realize that each of them is the only person who could understand the other. It's not romantic, per se, but it's fitting.

And, yes, people have complained about the age difference. Crozier is in his early 50's by the end of the book, whereas when the expedition encountered Lady Silence two years earlier, the doctor determined she was between 15 and 20 (much younger than in the TV adaptation). Yes, this is a shocking age difference by today's standards... but in the 1840's it was not. Indeed, Crozier had proposed about five years earlier to a woman in her early 20's who turned him down not for his age, but for his station (she claimed she couldn't be a mere captain's wife). Girls in their teens were married to men old enough to be their grandfathers all the time back then. For me, what sells it is that Silna knows exactly what she is doing and it is Crozier who seems surprised at first, as well as their ironclad devotion to each other through the remainder of the book. Each is willing to give up their world and follow their spouse; Crozier is the one who gives up his old life to be with Silna.

Really the only thing I found to be problematic in the book is the outdoor New Year's carnivale. For so much of the book, the author has been hammering into us what the extreme cold is like for the crew. The (heated) intterior of the boat is only just barely above freezing on the warmest decks. The crew are wearing layers upon layers. They are constantly losing toes. The men on watch on the deck have to constantly move, constantly stomp to keep from freezing. More than once someone accidentally touches metal and loses skin for their carelessness. And yet at the Carnivale, where we are told it is a whopping -100 degrees, men stay out wandering around, eating outside, hanging out in a tent labyrinth, wearing costumes either over or under their cold weather gear... for hours! It just seemed glaringly out of place to me.

I did think it was interesting that at one point a crew member references the wreck of the Essex, an American whaling ship sunk during an encounter with an enraged whale, marooning its crew in life boats in the tropical Pacific. It reminded me that I had also read a book about that incident a few years ago. I'll have to do a compare/contrast of the two.

It occurred to me recently that I should include Readers' Advisory at the end of reviews. This is a book for both fans of history, and fans of horror. In particular, if you like setting-based suspense and horror - something like Sphere, where you're trapped by the elements with a dangerous and unknowable presence. For the history fans, if you like The Terror, you might also enjoy In the Heart of the Sea, by Nathaniel Philbrick, and Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan.

Throwback Thursday - In the Heart of the Sea

So, I'm doing something a little different for Throwback Thursday this week.

The blog post I want to revisit is from my former website. I had planned to eventually set up an archive page here, but as you can guess, I have not yet gotten around to it. That post will be under the second markdown, below. The first markdown is a little snippet I posted on my Facebook page five years ago (five years ago, Oh my god...) about watching the film that was based on the book I review below. Now I'll have all of this in one spot!

Mid-July 2016, Jason and I watched the film In the Heart of the Sea, and really enjoyed it. My response to it is here:

From Facebook post, July 17, 2016

As a librarian and a writer, there are some classics out there that I am kind of embarrassed to admit that I haven't read. One of these is Moby Dick. I recently watched In the Heart of the Sea. It's a movie based on a book of the same name about Herman Melville speaking to one of the few survivors of a whaling ship that was attacked by a huge whale (and served as his inspriation for Moby Dick). It's a very good movie, which makes me sad that it didn't do better. Plus, as an actor, I also now have a TON of respect for the actors portraying the stranded whalers who lost tons of weight to look like they had been lost at sea for months; Chris Hemsworth lost 35 pounds, and Cillian Murphy looks like he was mummified.

After we finished the movie, I turned to my boyfriend and said, "Huh, that was really good - I'd like to read it." He responded, "yeah, I never read it either." I then clarfied that I was NOT talking about Moby Dick, but rather the book the film was based on.

For some reason, Melville is one of those authors people kind of cringe away from. No one picks up Melville for fun, just like no one picks up Dickens for fun. It's sad to say, but I'm just as guilty of this as the general population. As much as I love a rich vocabulary, some of those Victorian authors intimidate me.

But I guess that's ok, because Melville himself (at least according to the movie) is intimidated by Hawthorne. Which makes one of the closing screens, a quote by Hawthorne about how Moby Dick is the Great American Epic, all the more touching.

I liked it so much that I turned around and checked out the book from the library. I apparently finished it quite fast (oh, those pre-baby days!) as I posted the below review two weeks later:

Adapting from Page to Screen

Sometimes when having watched a movie and then read a book, I can say to myself, "Ok, I see why they changed that."

Sometimes it's a case of condensing a timeline or characters so as to make something easier to follow. Sometimes it's making characters older, younger, or changing something about their looks or personality to make them either more believable or more accessible to a broader audience. Sometimes it's adding "drama" (a problem that wasn't there in the original version to up the tension) or changing or leaving out something that the characters did to make them more relatable or sympathetic.

You may remember from my Ivey Ink Facebook post of July 17 that I recently watched In the Heart of the Sea. This is a movie based off a book that was written about a historical whaling ship disaster. The book was based on the accounts of several survivors of the Essex (a whaling ship); their stories also were a big influence on Herman Melville writing Moby Dick.

I enjoyed the film, and I found the book fascinating as well. However, upon reading the book, there were several very obvious, "wow, I see why they changed this for the movie" details. First of all, without some changes just for sake of narrative and the flow of plot structure, it would simply be a documentary that no one would watch unless they were interested in 19th century whaling and shipwrecks.

One of the major changes was the dynamic between First Mate Chase and Captain Pollard. In the film, Chase and Pollard do not get along, as Chase feels he was passed over for the position of captain simply because Pollard's father is a captain and one of the owners of the whaling company. In real life, Chase was several years younger than Pollard and they had been working their way up the ranks together for the last four years; Pollard had been First Mate previously and prior to that had been Second Mate, while Chase had previously been Second Mate and prior to that Harpooner. But which movie would you rather see:

"An orphaned farm boy* (played by the studly Chris Hemsworth) has worked hard to prove himself to The Man as capable sailor and has been promised a captaincy. However, at the last minute, he is passed over for promotion in favor of the boss's son (played by the brooding Benjamin Walker). Now they must struggle to scratch out a living from the violent sea with the forces of nature stacked against them." or "A tall 22-year-old and his pudgy@@ 28-year-old coworker of four years receive promotions and head out to hunt whales."

*And by the way Chase's father was still alive, and living in an expensive house in town, at the time of the voyage. @@Yes, Pollard is almost consistanly referred to as "portly" in the book. (Maybe this is repeatedly pointed out to help explain why he was one of the few who survived. He had more excess weight that could be lost without major inconvenience.)

However, like I said, injecting some drama for sake of narrative is understandable. Another major change (or, rather, omission) is even more understandable.

I don't know what you know about whaling. I didn't know a lot before I read this book. The movie shows a whale being hunted and killed (and only one hunt is shown to completion in the film, when there would have been HUNDREDS during the actual voyage of the Essex). It shows a couple brief scenes to get the point accross - a whale being harpooned, a spray of blood landing on the faces of the whalers as the whale dies (we do NOT see the blood actually spraying out of the whale itself), and a few short shots of the whale being butchered. We are also treated to a scene of the cabin boy being lowered into a hole in the whale's head to scoop out the last of the oil. He serves as something of a bridge between the characters and the audience, as his obvious horror and disgust at this task is more along the lines of what people who grew up learning about environmentalism and animal rights would feel.

These scenes in the movie really gloss over the realities of whaling that are gone into in more depth in the book.

As I mentioned above, a whaling voyage that lasted two years (as most of them did) and returned to port with 1,500-3,000 casks of whale oil would have had to kill hundreds of whales to fill their quota. I had been under the impression that, like the plucky homesteader of a slightly later period, the whalers used all of the animal - sell the bones and teeth for furniture and jewelry, eat and/or salt down the meat to sell, do...I dunno, something with the skin. No. The oil and blubber are the only parts of the whale used and the rest is DUMPED INTO THE OCEAN. The book describes the Pacific as being just a slick of oil, blood, and decomposing whale during a large part of the 19th century.

From a contemporary perspective, it's disturbing. What makes it even more jarring is that in the book the scene of the full hunt and butchery of the whale comes either immediately before or immediately after a scene in which the sailors complain to the captain about their small portions of rationed salt beef and salt pork. You people are throwing away dozens of tons of meat every few days and you don't think to keep any of this to augment your rations?

What makes it even worse than that, though, is that on their way to the whaling grounds of the Pacific the ship stops at the Galapagos islands so that they can hunt tortoises to bring on the voyage as food. The tortoises were preferred to any other live source of meat because their metabolisms were so slow that the crew didn't have to feed them. The ship takes on dozens, possibly hundreds, of tortoises, fully intending to just leave them in the hold and not give them food or water. Ever. Until it's time to kill and eat them. The cabin boy's memoir reflects his misgivings about the assumption that just just because the tortoises didn't NEED to eat didn't mean that they SHOULDN'T, as he claims that every time he went down into the hold he saw them licking things.

If these weren't bad enough crimes against nature, one of the crew members set one of the Galapagos islands on fire. As a prank.

It's scenes like these that make it extremely difficult to think anything other than "I'm glad most of you died miserable deaths of starvation adrfit at sea - you're horrible people!" As I said, sometimes you have to change things in a story to make the characters relatable on screen. Even without these scenes shown in the movie, it's hard not to root for the whale when he attacks the Essex after the whalers harpoon another whale in his pod.

But, as my sister is fond of saying, "why ruin a perfectly good story with something like facts?"

Book Review: Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan

I bought this book in a giftshop in Orkney, after Jason and I saw John Rae's memorial in the nearby St. Magnus Cathedral.  I was intrigued by the idea of an explorer whose work was pushed down and forgotten simply because he reported facts that rubbed the bigwigs in the wrong way.  I had actually been putting this one off for a while, though - another non-fiction book about Scottish history that I picked up on our trip was drier than I had hoped and I was concerned this might be, too.  Fortunately, I was wrong - Oh, my goodness, John Rae was a character!

So, imagine this.  You work hard.  It's a demanding job, but you love it.  You're willing to work with a team, provided everyone does their share of the work; in fact, you generally work even harder than some of the people on your team so that you can ensure success.  You keep asking your supervisor for time off (it IS hard work, after all) and they keep hedging.  Your job doesn't leave you time for a love life and you're not getting any younger. People on your team complain, "that's not my job."  They don't follow your directions and someone gets hurt.  But you finally finish that big project - the one you've been working toward for so long... and someone else gets the credit.  You make honest reports and no one believes you - or worse, cast you as an attention seeker.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet John Rae, mid-nineteenth century Arctic explorer.  He's just like you.  Actually, he's cooler than you, but we'll get to that.

Who watched the TV show The Terror?  It was on AMC a couple years ago and was based on the novel of the same name.  The novel was inspired by the true events of the Franklin Expedition, a mid-nineteenth century British expedition to find the final link in the Northwest Passage.  The book and show take what little we know about the expedition - that the ships were trapped in ice and, presumably, the whole crew died - and expands into some supernatural scariness (and the show in and of itself is worth a watch if it's still available out there).  How did we find out what happened to the Franklin Expedition?  John Rae.

But let's back up.  The book Fatal Passage begins with plucky John Ray, a 19-year-old newly graduated surgeon from Orkney*, Scotland.  He set off for Canada, to join the Hudson's Bay Company.  The HBC was a company of traders and explorers in arctic Canada and had been heavily involved, along with the British navy, in charting as-yet-unmapped areas and searching for a navigable passage from the Northern Atlantic to the Northern Pacific (the Northwest Passage).

*Fun fact - people from Orkney are called Orcadians, which I think is flippin' fantastic.

Rae gleefully spent the next several years getting to know the arctic landscape; learning native hunting, building, and dressing styles; and snowshoeing across hundreds of miles in the winter just for kicks.  He started as a "surgeon" (comparable to a nurse practitioner today) and worked his way up the ranks as a general Jack of all trades, eventually becoming Chief Factor (director) of a major trading post (called a "factory" at the time).  He was well-respected by peers and supervisors, as well as by French fur traders, and native and mixed-race locals.

Not only that, Rae was rather progressive.  He was incredibly vocal in how much he admired the natives' (mainly Inuit, but some Cree, Ojibwe, and other groups) ingenuity, and thought that "half-breeds" (mixed-race European and Native American) were the best men that could be had for any job.  He also made notes in his own correspondence that he does not use the term "half-breed" as an insult, as many do.

Rae was eventually tasked with exploring uncharted coastline in search of the Northwest Passage, which everyone and his brother was doing those days.  Rae usually put together his own team.  It was usually comprised of just as many natives and half-breeds as full-Brits, as they were used to the terrain, the weather, the work, etc.  In fact, the only time he used naval officers that he was told he had to use rather than men he chose was the only expedition in which anyone died - which was EXTREMELELY unusual for 19th century arctic expeditions.  Rae was not only the first European explorer to winter in the Arctic "Native style," but also the first European to winter in the Arctic without losing a member of his team.  Given that his teams were usually much smaller (10 or so hardy men) that the large HBC and naval expeditions (100-200 sailors, often with no Arctic experience), this is really saying something.

Rae relished the work early on.  He loved snowshoeing and hunting - he considered "a long day's march in snowshoes is about the finest exercise a man can take."  He enjoyed living off the land and taking as few supplies as possible.  (This man often slept outdoors in the Arctic on a sleeping skin with one blanket.  I get cold in a 72-degree house with 2 blankets.)  He didn't shy away from doing MORE than his share of the work: shooting the majority of the food his group would eat, taking meticulous weather and geological measurements, trying to thaw his frozen Complete Works of William Shakespeare, and sleeping in his own individual igloo* rather than with the rest of his team for warmth because all the others were smokers.

*The term used in the book is "ice hut,” but I wanted to use igloo this first time to indicate the native-style building.

His most successful journey - the one in which he not only discovered the last link in the Northwest Passage (a strait later named for him) but also was the first to encounter anyone with knowledge of and artifacts from the doomed Franklin expedition. 

Having returned to his summer mooring, after having spent much of the winter trekking around and mapping - he was approached by natives who had cutlery and other items, some of which had very distinct initials and the family crest of Sir John Franklin himself.  He paid the natives well for these items, and interviewed the entire group separately, using his trusted interpreter (even though he himself spoke some of the Inuit language).  They all reported the same thing - a couple years prior (approximately five years after the Franklin expedition set sail) they had seen a group of ragtag white men (none in this group had ever seen Europeans before) dragging a boat like a sled, and heading south.  Later, another group of natives had reported to them that they had found the remains of this group - all dead, but many having been mutilated.  Rae came to the same conclusion as his second-hand witnesses - the last survivors of the Franklin expedition had resorted to butchering and eating their dead companions. 

Torn, Rae debated whether he should return to the area that the Natives had indicated to confirm the story.  But it would require back-tracking quite a long distance (ironically, the strait he discovered was quite close to where the doomed encampment lay).  It was too late in the season for him to make that trek and return while his route back to "civilization" (in this case a rural fort) was still navigable.  Many of the waterways he was using were ice-blocked for 10-11 months out of the year - basically, if you weren't traveling in August you were out of luck. 

In the end, he made the decision based on the state of his team.  Two of his men were very badly worse for the wear - one had frozen off two toes and could barely walk, let along keep up the strenuous pace needed to get to the Franklin crew site and back before winter set in and they had to hole up in ice huts, and hope that they had enough supplies. 

It was a difficult decision for him, but he ultimately decided that he would not risk his men's lives, especially since it was now all but impossible that Sir John Franklin or any of his men had survived.  There were other rescue expeditions out there, too, and they deserved to know the truth so they could also decide how much of a risk they were still willing to take for what now was not a rescue mission, but one to confirm the location of the bodies.

Rae, an honest man who was always meticulous in detailed record-keeping, wrote a very thorough letter to his superiors.  Unbeknownst to him at first, it was then sent to London and published by the Times.  And then... oh, the scandal!  Even though Rae had made clear what had happened, he still euphemized, still skirted using gory language.  He reported that the "the state of the bodies and the contents of the kettles" indicated that the last few survivors had been forced to use "the last resort." 

Still, Victorians knew how to read between the lines and they were most definitely not happy.  What, cannibalism?  Not, not our fine British officers!  The kindest opinions toward Rae were along the lines of, Oh, this poor Orkney yokel, poor naive man, taken in by the lies of the nasty, tricksey savages*. General opinion, however, was even more harsh.  Many speculated that Rae himself fabricated the story to tarnish the reputation of Sir John (who, honestly, was a less-than-stellar explorer and politician anyway) so that he could get the reward money.  Rae hadn't even known there'd been a reward until he traveled to London after the letters had already been published - without his knowledge.

*The assumption that any and all natives will lie whenever they get the chance is something consistently repeated in the articles and letters of the time and is REALLY uncomfortable to read.  Rae, to his credit, defended his interpreter and the natives - going to so far as noting that the one time his interpreter tried to lie about something when he was much younger (Rae had known him for over a decade at this point) that he had been absolutely dreadful at it because he had never lied before.

Chief among Rae's detractors was Lady Franklin, who for years had refused to believe her husband was dead (this news coming ten years after he had last been seen), and of course was appalled at the insinuation that her husband might have been among those final men desperate enough to eat their fellows (documents were found during another expedition that eventually confirmed he had died before the ships had become ice-locked and therefore couldn't have been one of the cannibalistic "survivors").  She continued to send out search parties - funding many of them in large part herself.  She continued to smear Rae's name to the point that several other explorers were credited with his discoveries including, most egregiously, Franklin himself. 

There was quite a bit of arguing of semantics.  Should the discoverer of the passage be the person who found and theorized that passage was navigable?  Should it be the first person to traverse it on foot?  In the latter instance, Franklin's crew was credited for a while on the assumption that they had dragged their boat over the frozen last link in the passage before they died.  Other explorers were credited with finding other passages that would later turn out to not be navigable with nineteenth-century ships.  This is how they treated the man who not long before was their go-to for any Arctic expedition - "Oh Rae's in that quarter, Rae will do that." 

Interestingly, while the British continually tried to downplay his achievements, even question his sanity for "going Native" and using Inuit methods of survival rather than "tried and true" modern techniques, the Norwegian explorers of the same period seemed to appreciate Rae much more - "This guy!  This guy knows what's going on!" (Ok, that's not an actual period quote.)  In fact, it was a Norwegian explorer in the first decade of the 20th century who finally successfully navigated the Northwest Passage, using Rae's route - 50 years after he discovered it, and after so many others had died trying to disprove Rae's journey.

Rae himself eventually retired from the HBC, married, and gave up Arctic exploration.  His last excursion was an exploration of the Canadian Rockies to determine the best route for a telegraph line.  He took his wife along for part of the journey, which was extremely unusual for the time.

Rae was a really interesting guy.  Even after his retirement, he kept active - hunting and hiking.  It was not unusual for him, even in his 70's, to walk 20 miles to the train station.  He lived to be nearly 80 years old.  He kept a massive collection of Inuit artifacts, referring to the native people as "my friends the Esquimaux.*" He was progressive man, a man ahead of his time.  He understood that smoking was unhealthy, and theorized that scurvy was caused by "lack of something [the body] gets from vegetables" decades before vitamins were discovered.  He was a man who respected and admired Native Americans - to the point that he not only paid those on his teams well, but usually provided them more pay than originally contracted once they returned due to how arduous the work was.  He was so progressive that at times while reading the book, I chuckled to myself, "Huh.  Wonder if he was a time traveler."  It kind of wouldn't surprise me.

*We know now that "eskimo" is a Cree slur that means "snow-eater," but Rae didn't know that.

All (actual) quotes are from Fatal Passage by Ken McGoogan, who himself is usually quoting Rae's own correspondence.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate.  Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The memorial commissioned by John Rae’s wife, Kate. Rae sleeps beneath a buffalo skin blanket, wearing his mocccasin boots, as he was wont to do.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney.  Rae is buried in the church yard in the back.  No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The exterior of St, Magnus’s Cathedral in Orkney. Rae is buried in the church yard in the back. No, this isn’t brick - it’s red sandstone, local to Orkney.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.

The interior of St. Magnus’s Cathedral.