A novel by John McPhee

I was at a loss for where I should start with this blog – all I knew was that I wanted to review literature and that New Jersey seemed like a good niche to explore. After sharing my idea with my journalism professor, he recommended that I check out The Pine Barrens by John McPhee. As a native of central jersey, I had only heard of the Pine Barrens through a hilarious escapade made by Christopher Moltisanti and Paulie Walnuts from the Sopranos, which is featured below.  Searching Barnes and Nobles, I found that there were only two copies in stock – in the travel section. It was at that point I became wary of what I was delving into. Immediately after the first chapter, however, I knew that I was about to embark on an evocative, informative journey through the wilderness.

During his time in the Pine Barrens, McPhee is accompanied almost exclusively by Fred Brown, a surprisingly in-shape seventy-nine year old piney. The term piney is one used frequently and lovingly by those living in the Pine Barrens, but at the same time, it’s  looked down upon when used by outsiders as it often carries a derogatory connotation. Who could blame them – at one point, a genealogical study falsely tried proving that all inhabitants were descended from one man. Regardless, while reading The Pine Barrens, readers are given a rich sense of culture, which is where the book shines as a whole.

McPhee says that, “Getting away – or staying away – from everybody is a criterion that apparently continues to mean as much to many of the people in the pines as it did to some of their forebears who first settled there.” But, conversely, there is a certain and undeniable vibrancy in their way of life and its history that one wouldn’t expect from such a statement. McPhee discovers and reveals treasures of regional knowledge throughout the book: that cabinetmaker Benjamin Rudolph from Speedwell in the Pine Barrens crafted the desk Thomas Jefferson used when he wrote the Declaration of Independence; that the cultivated blueberry was developed in the Pine Barrens and that a third of the United States’ total commercial cranberry growing is still done there; that the story of the Leeds’ Devil, or the Jersey Devil, originated in the Pine Barrens. In addition, two prominent foreign figures have graced the land. Emilio Carranza, Mexico’s Lindbergh, a great-nephew of assassinated President Venustiano Carranza, tragically crashed in the Pine Barrens in 1927, thereby creating an annual, summer ceremony attended by both pineys and Mexicans.  S.E il Principe Constantino di Ruspoli was an authentic Italian prince who was a native of the Pine Barren’s principal community, Chatsworth. And there is so much more, even beyond that.

McPhee’s writing style for this is that of narrative nonfiction. In these short 157 pages, he displays the keen eye of a journalist, paying critical attention to detail, birthing images of the inner character of the simple folk and their humble homes vividly in the reader’s mind. But the book isn’t without flaw. Some of the historical points of the novel can be dry, particularly the history and significance of iron in the Pine Barrens. The later chapter when McPhee entails flora and fauna is especially draining, specifically when he spends half of a page tediously listing the birds native to the land. Overall, however, I can faithfully  say that this book has the potential to be relevant, captivating, and entertaining to a large number of readers, especially  New Jersey residents; it gets my approval, so look into it!

That’s all for now – I’m not sure where to go from here, but I’ll be posting soon enough.

As a foreword to the video below, I’d like to quote a passage of dialogue from the text from a state trooper:

“Anybody who wanted to commit a murder – all he’d have to do is ride back there with a shovel. They’d never find that body. I always did figure there’s a lot of bodies in there. You get in those woods and you can get lost. You could kill a person very easily and throw the body in there, and within three or four weeks the buzzards would have taken care of everything except the bones, and they would be scattered.”

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