the bear went over the mtn (book review)

March 16,2008
The Bear Went Over The Mountain (Carll Tucker , Liebert Press 2008)
In his fine travel memoir, ‘The Bear Went Over The Mountain’, Carll Tucker carries us protectively on his back like a female lowland gorilla as he weathers one humdinger of a midlife crisis. The one many are probably too scared to have themselves. This is a courageous and fascinating journey at 50 years old (and no more than 50 mph!) from the familiar upper class, high-torque idle of collared shirts and Westchester country clubs, half push half pull, in an aging motor home across America. In the rear view mirror: raised eyebrows, tears, memories, confusion, expectations, the familiar, imminent divorce, probably gossip. Through the front window: opportunity, loneliness, anonymity, farm stands, uncertainty and classical music as loud as he wants, whenever he wants. All that and also fear.
Tucker learns first hand that the world isn’t flat. That he drives an enormous coffin-shaped thing with wheels and hideous gas mileage is not inappropriate. One thread that runs through the cross country romp is death. Death of the old, birth of the new. Relationships, perspectives, priorities, vanities , insecurities, you name it. All this happens so eloquently through the refracted lens of history as he considers the back story, the ambition, the accomplishments, the failings, the hard luck, the revisionist history, and the flesh that made up the country’s Vice Presidents and Presidents. And, in their shadow, his self.
He’s also exploring the very notion of America—who we are now as a nation as a function of our past and how (poorly) we sometimes treated each other. And how fate sometimes swings on such a rusty hinge of chance...
It’s a curious lens to look through, so particular and scholarly, that Tucker sometimes stands completely alone at these monuments in his tattered sandals and shorts. We can only imagine him scratching his head wondering what the hell happened. But Tucker’s depth of knowledge, in history and literature and life, are powerful and sublime and render his keen observations spot on. He is thorough, too. Every gravestone gets ink and pixels and gray matter. This is a man who, as a function of this brave trip, and the life leading up to it, has been leveled by humility and insight. He offers it to us like ripe fruit, neither preachy nor pushy.
He’s a supremely talented and melodic wordsmith. This book is a treasure. I rarely get to say that these days—my shelf space is limited so only the best of the best get the real estate. Some gems of his especially resonate: “Sadness is not our fate but our fault.” Or “The truth is that truth is hard to figure.” Or “Jostle us just so and you unlatch the cage.” The language is rich and images so sharp they might well have been cut with a plasma torch. Peppered , also, throughout the book are italicized musings to a smoldering (soon to be ex) wife who, pointedly, does not reply to him, if the letters are even sent at all. The situation is sad but it is. You can feel the wheels coming off of this relationship and it feels sick, deep in the viscera.
But re-entry is a must for all social beings. And so he does when he runs out of Presidents, and Vice Presidents (and gas money?) and when the crisp smack of Fall and reality smart.
If you have ever been 50 or ever plan to be fifty, if you have ever enjoyed the musings of Robert Persig or Elizabeth Gilbert, or if you are even the slightest bit of a history buff, you’ll want to rattle around with Tucker in his RV. You won’t soon be sorry.
Now, that’s the wordy version of the review, the one Tucker suggests the Spartan poet Frost (one of his idols) might scorn. Here’s the real review: My copy of this book is dog-eared, marked, sweated on (from the gym), twisted, torn and beaten. I’m not giving it back to the lender, either. I wont. It will be on my shelves in the company of great books or in my hands until my own clock boinks, springs come out and both hands drop to 6. There will be Christmas and birthday copies for my friends who really should read this. That’s the real review.
-Wally Nichols
(203) 858 3634
Cwn4@aol.com
www.wallynichols.com