Robert Crews

January 31, 1994
The eponymous hero of Berger's 19th novel (after Meeting Evil ) is a postmodern Robinson Crusoe--more dysfunctional and doubting than his 18th-century forebear. And he sets a greener example: whereas Crusoe established an enlightened despotism over nature, Crews must learn to survive with rather than in spite of his environment. Berger also owes a clear debt to Golding's Pincher Martin --to survive, Crews must purge himself, settle his debts with his past. In the novel's first half, when Crews is alone with his environment and his thoughts, the inherent pleasures of the genre--the battle of wits between nature and man where the stakes are survival--are as gripping as ever. Once Crews meets his Friday, however--in this case, a lissome young wife on the run from her husband--the narrative loses much if not most of its momentum. Berger's ear for language, so keen in his descriptions of nature and in Crews's internal monologues, becomes clogged in reams of inert dialogue. A latent strand of Iron-Johnishness also rears its shaggy head, as man and woman liberate their inner selves in the forest's primal twilight. The climax only confirms the novel's schematic and rather smug affirmation of nature over culture--the clear, powerful lines of the opening chapters are only a blurred memory.