I spelled Joe Rantz’s name wrong. I’m sorry!

I’ve been reading my brother-in-law’s favorite book. (Or at least, one he recommends All the time.) Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown (Viking, 2013) is an absolutely riveting account of the American rowing team at the 1936 Olympic Games in Germany. I had to stop reading last night just as the crew was about to start their final Olympic race. I borrowed an ebook from the library, and am reading it in my browser, so when internet in this house goes down at 11:30 p.m., I stop reading and go to bed. Even when I am right in the middle of the most exciting part. I’ll finish the book this afternoon. Meanwhile…

… as a writer, I find it incredibly curious that I am so excited. I know how the book turns out. They win. And yet, I have been totally engrossed, passionately wanting to know how these guys did it, and worrying a bit. It doesn’t seem possible that they won, as I read about one of the strongest men, down with a horrible lung infection just before the race.

I think the writing works because the author managed to get inside the mind of one of the rowers, and that guy, himself, did not know what was coming at the time.

I saw this effect once before, reading a book called Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson. At the tale end of that book, there is a scene where a diver is looking through a sunken submarine for information on its identity. The book is premised on the idea that this sub is a German U-boat, 869. And that’s what it turns out to be. But Kurson was able to make that last chapter completely engrossing and terrifying. Will the diver die or not? We know he didn’t. How did Kurson get this effect? As in Boys in the Boat, the story manages to get inside the head of the diver, who did not know he would survive. (There is some controversy over Kurson’s book — some people say he took a lot of liberties with the truth and that Shadow Divers is best read as fiction. My writerly point still stands.)

Anyway, Boys in the Boat is centered on Joe Rantz, one of the eight rowers, whose father abandoned him twice during his childhood, first when his mother died, and then again when his step-mother told his dad to get rid of him. Joe was never bitter about it, always tried to help his half-brothers and sisters, and hold onto his family. In this he was entirely blessed to have the help of his eventual wife, Joyce, who mothered his half-siblings, after his step-mother died. (The love between Joe and Joyce is an amazing thing to read about, all on its own.)

As a part of the setting of the book, the author, Daniel James Brown, discusses the German propaganda machine of the 1930’s, and the efforts made by the Nazis to gloss over the atrocities, already being practiced, so that the visiting Olympic dignitaries will see the Germans as civilized. In the long run Brown has a point he’s trying to make. The boys in that particular rowing team were all from less than ideal circumstances, Not rich, not pampered, not elite, just … not. But, they were fighters. Brown writes about them in sharp contrast to the German athletes, and in fact to many of the other athletes, who came from much more privileged backgrounds.

I can see why my brother-in-law loves this book. It’s very American to celebrate overcoming hardship and poverty in order to make a successful life. But this book is also about love and connection as a necessary part of the success. I highly recommend it for that reason.

I wonder if my brother-in-law has any other favorites…