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Riverman: An American Odyssey
The true story of Dick Conant, an American folk hero who, over the course of more than twenty years, canoed solo thousands of miles of American rivers--and then disappeared near the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
For decades, Dick Conant paddled the rivers of America, covering the Mississippi, Yellowstone, Ohio, Hudson, as well as innumerable smaller tributaries. These solo excursions were epic feats of planning, perseverance, and physical courage. At the same time, Conant collected people wherever he went, creating a vast network of friends and acquaintances who would forever remember this brilliant and charming man even after a single meeting.
Ben McGrath, a staff writer at The New Yorker, was one of those people. In 2014 he met Conant by chance just north of New York City as Conant paddled down the Hudson, headed for Florida. McGrath wrote a widely read article about their encounter, and when Conant's canoe washed up a few months later, without any sign of his body, McGrath set out to find the people whose lives Conant had touched--to capture a remarkable life lived far outside the staid confines of modern existence.
Riverman is a portrait of a man who was as troubled as he was charismatic, who struggled with mental illness and self-doubt, and was ultimately unable to fashion a stable life for himself; who traveled alone and yet thrived on connection and brought countless people together in his wake. It is also a portrait of an America we rarely see: a nation of unconventional characters, small river towns, and long-forgotten waterways.
For decades, Dick Conant paddled the rivers of America, covering the Mississippi, Yellowstone, Ohio, Hudson, as well as innumerable smaller tributaries. These solo excursions were epic feats of planning, perseverance, and physical courage. At the same time, Conant collected people wherever he went, creating a vast network of friends and acquaintances who would forever remember this brilliant and charming man even after a single meeting.
Ben McGrath, a staff writer at The New Yorker, was one of those people. In 2014 he met Conant by chance just north of New York City as Conant paddled down the Hudson, headed for Florida. McGrath wrote a widely read article about their encounter, and when Conant's canoe washed up a few months later, without any sign of his body, McGrath set out to find the people whose lives Conant had touched--to capture a remarkable life lived far outside the staid confines of modern existence.
Riverman is a portrait of a man who was as troubled as he was charismatic, who struggled with mental illness and self-doubt, and was ultimately unable to fashion a stable life for himself; who traveled alone and yet thrived on connection and brought countless people together in his wake. It is also a portrait of an America we rarely see: a nation of unconventional characters, small river towns, and long-forgotten waterways.
256 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 342 reviews
June 17, 2022
4 Stars for Riverman: An American Odyssey (audiobook) by Ben McGrath read by Adam Verner.
The author did an incredible job with the research for this story. Unfortunately from the beginning we know that it’s unlikely to be a happily ever after kind tail. Like others that have gone on adventures like this, Dick Conant had his troubles. Fortunately he found canoeing which provided the help he needed. He sounds like the kind of guy that I’d like to sit down and talk to for a few hours. Although that seems unlikely that he would paddle by when I’m living in the Arizona desert. But he did go by my mother’s home town though.
The author did an incredible job with the research for this story. Unfortunately from the beginning we know that it’s unlikely to be a happily ever after kind tail. Like others that have gone on adventures like this, Dick Conant had his troubles. Fortunately he found canoeing which provided the help he needed. He sounds like the kind of guy that I’d like to sit down and talk to for a few hours. Although that seems unlikely that he would paddle by when I’m living in the Arizona desert. But he did go by my mother’s home town though.
March 1, 2022
This account of an itinerant American river paddler was sometimes intriguing but rather disorganized and I found myself wondering what is the point of this book.
November 2, 2021
I adore reading books that take place on a river . . . or many rivers, as is the case here . . . and rejoice in the beauty of the kindness and curiosity of strangers. "Riverman" is extremely well-written by New Yorker magazine staff writer Ben McGrath and extremely well-researched about folk-hero Dick Conant who spent over 20 years solo canoeing American rivers before he disappeared. What a fascinating story about an even more fascinating man!
January 14, 2023
Dit boek bezorgde mij veel leesgenot en ook veel om over na te denken. De hoofdpersoon, Dick Conant, intrigeerde me heel erg, meer nog dan het verslag van zijn kanotochten. Die waren voor mij soms moeilijk te volgen omdat ik de geografie van de VS niet altijd duidelijk heb zonder de plaatsen op te zoeken. En geregeld was het boek ook nogal chaotisch, nogal wat zijsprongen die ik echter meestal wel boeiend vond. Maar Dick Conant was voor mij nog boeiender. Een raadsel ook wel. Een onderhoudende, sympathieke en vriendelijke man met een brede belangstelling, die grote indruk maakt op iedereen die hem ontmoet, en die toch ook mensenschuw is. Er is iets "mis" met hem maar wat en hoe kwam dat? Ergens wordt er gesproken van testen met lsd in het leger. Ligt daar de oorsprong?
Wat het ook zij, "De rivier" is een boek dat mij fascineerde.
Wat het ook zij, "De rivier" is een boek dat mij fascineerde.
April 20, 2022
Yearning and peace
It is the great paradox of adventurous souls that they find and need the nourishment of both nature and humans. Dick Conant was fortunate to experience the benefits — and the occasional hardships — of being immersed in both worlds. It is our great fortune that his story landed in the hands of someone who cared to tell his story well.
It is the great paradox of adventurous souls that they find and need the nourishment of both nature and humans. Dick Conant was fortunate to experience the benefits — and the occasional hardships — of being immersed in both worlds. It is our great fortune that his story landed in the hands of someone who cared to tell his story well.
April 19, 2024
Comparisons to 'Into the Wild' are fair. McGrath is a quality journalist and the writing here does indeed remind me of Krakauer. If you are a fan of that book, you will like this one too. The problem for me with 'Into the Wild' was that I didn't find McCandless all that interesting, and that is the case again here. Sure, most of us harbor at least a small sentiment of wanderlust, but anecdotes about a sociable drifter doesn't grab my attention very much. Two stars might seem rough, especially since I have no qualms with McGrath's structure or writing, but I found this pretty boring. Just okay.
January 8, 2024
For those who love Krakauer, this book has similar themes to Into the Wild, but is written in a much more riveting style. Conant, the focus of the book, is of mythical proportions but the author tracks every story down to corroborate them. A heckuva story. Highly recommend.
February 28, 2022
I was fortunate to win a Goodreads giveaway and received an arc of Riverman. Ben McGrath is a top-notch, talented writer with an enviable vocabulary. Growing up in Utah, I have a great love for the outdoors. I feel so much solace and a sense of grounding when I’m alone in nature. I thought the book would highlight more of Conant’s relationship with nature as he canoed his solo trips through different American rivers. The book focused more on Conant’s relationship with humanity and the struggles and challenges he encountered while making his way through a non-conventional lifestyle. The book highlighted beautiful aspects of humanity and everything in between. Conant’s story is a good reminder that every individual has a story and lucky is the person that stops to listen.
June 22, 2022
What an amazing story. Shame that this guy was the one to tell it.
It’s like hearing a New Yorker talk about Texas. No real clue of story or art. It’s basically a navel gazing journey the author takes while touring the places this really interesting guy travels through. Somehow manages to make it all about himself.
It’s like hearing a New Yorker talk about Texas. No real clue of story or art. It’s basically a navel gazing journey the author takes while touring the places this really interesting guy travels through. Somehow manages to make it all about himself.
October 29, 2022
Dick Conant doorkruiste per kano heel Noord-Amerika, decennia lang.
In 2014 werd zijn kano gevonden. Van de man geen spoor.
Journalist Ben McGrath had de kanoman ooit toevallig ontmoet, en was gefascineerd door deze avontuurlijke mens.
Hij ging op onderzoek uit en interviewde ontelbare mensen die Dick gekend of even ontmoet hadden. Blijkbaar had Dick op velen een onvergetelijke indruk gemaakt.
Het boek staat dan ook vol met kleine en grote anekdotes, waardoor het een beetje rommelig is en waardoor het toch niet zomaar in één ruk uit te lezen is.
Als lezer kan je je wel een beeld vormen van wie Conant was: een intelligente man, die weg wilde uit de reguliere maatschappij.
Hij lijkt ook een sympathieke en sociale mens, … wat dan weer in tegenspraak is met zijn drang naar “alleen zijn”.
Dick Conant schreef zelf een soort van dagboek. Uit dat dagboek krijgen we hier en daar stukjes te lezen, die veel poëtischer zijn dan wat McGrath schrijft.
Al bij al een interessant boek.
De oorspronkelijke titel van het boek is “Riverman”, wat iets meer tot de verbeelding spreekt dan “De rivier”.
Citaat:
“Hij bleef zich maar afvragen wat hij had gedaan (in plaats van wie hij was) om zulke argwaan of ongemak bij anderen op te roepen. Geen enkel terloops moment ontsnapt aan de vorsende blik van de eenzame reiziger.
Conant was zich bewust van een paradox die inherent is aan kanovaren: de scheidslijn tussen gelukzaligheid en geestdodende verveling is soms zo goed als onzichtbaar.” (blz.129)
In 2014 werd zijn kano gevonden. Van de man geen spoor.
Journalist Ben McGrath had de kanoman ooit toevallig ontmoet, en was gefascineerd door deze avontuurlijke mens.
Hij ging op onderzoek uit en interviewde ontelbare mensen die Dick gekend of even ontmoet hadden. Blijkbaar had Dick op velen een onvergetelijke indruk gemaakt.
Het boek staat dan ook vol met kleine en grote anekdotes, waardoor het een beetje rommelig is en waardoor het toch niet zomaar in één ruk uit te lezen is.
Als lezer kan je je wel een beeld vormen van wie Conant was: een intelligente man, die weg wilde uit de reguliere maatschappij.
Hij lijkt ook een sympathieke en sociale mens, … wat dan weer in tegenspraak is met zijn drang naar “alleen zijn”.
Dick Conant schreef zelf een soort van dagboek. Uit dat dagboek krijgen we hier en daar stukjes te lezen, die veel poëtischer zijn dan wat McGrath schrijft.
Al bij al een interessant boek.
De oorspronkelijke titel van het boek is “Riverman”, wat iets meer tot de verbeelding spreekt dan “De rivier”.
Citaat:
“Hij bleef zich maar afvragen wat hij had gedaan (in plaats van wie hij was) om zulke argwaan of ongemak bij anderen op te roepen. Geen enkel terloops moment ontsnapt aan de vorsende blik van de eenzame reiziger.
Conant was zich bewust van een paradox die inherent is aan kanovaren: de scheidslijn tussen gelukzaligheid en geestdodende verveling is soms zo goed als onzichtbaar.” (blz.129)
January 10, 2023
The cover photo is one taken by the Riverman himself. The driftwood is for the fire that will be lit at the next campsite, if he doesn't just sleep in his canoe. The spine art is from pieces of road atlas maps and nav charts on which he wrote notes: phone numbers and names he asked people to write down, suggestions for visits on the next walk off water, thoughts for the day.
Dick Conant had a base camp near Bozeman, Montana that he seldom visited. He had people he met and who remembered him fondly long after a brief encounter. His phone had stopped working years ago, but he kept it in his kit.
He had a degree (applied to med school more than once), was an excellent artist, wonderful conversationalist, had family and could keep a job.
He chose the rivers.
He paddled hundreds, thousands of miles on the rivers from the Pacific Northwest to Chesapeake Bay, to Texas, Louisiana, and when the canoe he lived in was found overturned in the Albemarle Swamp, he wasn't in it.
Ben McGrath had a brief encounter with Dick Conant, when McGrath's neighbor invited him over to meet the gentle giant who had tied his boat out front. McGrath was so engaged with Conant's story that he followed him after Dick had launched. The author in his kayak, then motorcycle, then car. When he found him soon after, Conant didn't like the idea that McGrath might be stalking him.
McGrath gave Conant his card, and went back to his job and his family. Until an officer of the law called him to report the canoe had been found on a riverbank, overturned and no sign of its owner.
This is a personal quest story that McGrath could not get out of his head, a life journey uncommon and seldom heard because the paddlers who we've heard about worked really hard to have their stories told. Epic trippers had sponsors and devoted supporters. Dick Conant had the admiration of, and weird immediate connection to, people who dreamed of being as free. I think McGrath must have that, too. He chased down leads across the country from notes on items in the canoe - a receipt from Taco Bell in 2014.
And then 2 storage lockers near Bozeman.
I'll buy this book because I feel the same way about Dick Conant that the folks along the river did, sharing a drink and a story at the local, meeting him on the sidewalk portaging the entire city of Trenton, finding him catching up to the guided Salmon River trip in a homemade water conveyance. (Salmon River! Class IV rapids.) Shaking his hand coming out of church. People who met him who never forgot him, who were inspired immediately to drive him inland to check in at the VA for meds, to buy him a plane ticket, if he wanted (no, thanks), to tie his canoe with him still in it to the pontoon of a solar-powered trimaran, whose owner was trying for a Guinness record. People tried to find him later, googled him (nothing), one engaged guy commenting in awe "he was navigating with a road atlas!"
"People on the river happy to give..."
Dick Conant had a base camp near Bozeman, Montana that he seldom visited. He had people he met and who remembered him fondly long after a brief encounter. His phone had stopped working years ago, but he kept it in his kit.
He had a degree (applied to med school more than once), was an excellent artist, wonderful conversationalist, had family and could keep a job.
He chose the rivers.
He paddled hundreds, thousands of miles on the rivers from the Pacific Northwest to Chesapeake Bay, to Texas, Louisiana, and when the canoe he lived in was found overturned in the Albemarle Swamp, he wasn't in it.
Ben McGrath had a brief encounter with Dick Conant, when McGrath's neighbor invited him over to meet the gentle giant who had tied his boat out front. McGrath was so engaged with Conant's story that he followed him after Dick had launched. The author in his kayak, then motorcycle, then car. When he found him soon after, Conant didn't like the idea that McGrath might be stalking him.
McGrath gave Conant his card, and went back to his job and his family. Until an officer of the law called him to report the canoe had been found on a riverbank, overturned and no sign of its owner.
This is a personal quest story that McGrath could not get out of his head, a life journey uncommon and seldom heard because the paddlers who we've heard about worked really hard to have their stories told. Epic trippers had sponsors and devoted supporters. Dick Conant had the admiration of, and weird immediate connection to, people who dreamed of being as free. I think McGrath must have that, too. He chased down leads across the country from notes on items in the canoe - a receipt from Taco Bell in 2014.
And then 2 storage lockers near Bozeman.
I'll buy this book because I feel the same way about Dick Conant that the folks along the river did, sharing a drink and a story at the local, meeting him on the sidewalk portaging the entire city of Trenton, finding him catching up to the guided Salmon River trip in a homemade water conveyance. (Salmon River! Class IV rapids.) Shaking his hand coming out of church. People who met him who never forgot him, who were inspired immediately to drive him inland to check in at the VA for meds, to buy him a plane ticket, if he wanted (no, thanks), to tie his canoe with him still in it to the pontoon of a solar-powered trimaran, whose owner was trying for a Guinness record. People tried to find him later, googled him (nothing), one engaged guy commenting in awe "he was navigating with a road atlas!"
"People on the river happy to give..."
May 5, 2022
McGrath writes well, but there just isn't enough about the Riverman. Or, perhaps what there is isn't all that compelling in the end.
> The air was so clear, and free of dust, that he realized he had gone a couple of weeks without the urge to pick his nose
> “These adventures are incredible,” he said, repeating a sentiment that he’d voiced earlier in the day. “They really are. They’re wonderful to have. They’re dangerous, and full of excitement. However, at this point in my life, I’ve had enough of this excitement. I’d much rather be at home with a woman, and a family like you have, than out here on the water. But this is the alternative.”
> Before taking his leave of Jason and Tom—he offered handshakes, they gave him hugs—Conant presented them with a regift of his own, in the form of prisoners’ MREs. These were leftovers from the cleanup crew, and surprisingly delicious, at least by itinerant standards. (“They swam in a thick, delicious savory gravy,” Conant wrote of the dumplings he’d sampled. “Yum yum.”) Of the seventeen meals that remained, he kept four for himself, abstemious, and left his would-be tormentors with the other thirteen, “subconsciously hoping,” as he put it, that the odd number would prove a source of tension.
> By the standards of type A expedition athletes, Conant can’t claim even a proper descent of the country’s grandest river (“old pal, unpredictable friend,” he called it), whose official headwaters are at Lake Itasca, fifty-odd miles upstream of where he put in for his own ostensible full-Mississippi voyage, in 2009. But you can’t catch a Greyhound to Lake Itasca, so he settled for Bemidji, where “one of a string of lakes that form the headwaters,” as he explained it to me, was within walking distance of a store that sold cheap canoes.
> He recalled the time, in Bozeman, in the dark, when he had inadvertently put the boots on the wrong feet and scarcely noticed any discomfort, and he now determined to switch them regularly as a matter of preservation, as if rotating the tires on a car.
> Conant’s annotations on them were sparse, mysterious, and at times alarmist. An asterisk in the middle of the shipping channel, south of Annapolis, was accompanied by three exclamation marks and the words “OUCH DISASTER.”
> At a rest stop, they overheard a couple of men in the parking lot making disparaging references to the spectacle of the two of them, with their truck bed full of junk. “They called us Sanford and Son,” Wells said. “It kind of hurt Dick’s feelings. I was like, ‘Dick, don’t worry about it. Those guys are stuck in Hampton, Virginia, picking up trash. Their whole lives, they could try, and they won’t see the things you’ve seen, and meet the people you’ve met.’ ”
> The air was so clear, and free of dust, that he realized he had gone a couple of weeks without the urge to pick his nose
> “These adventures are incredible,” he said, repeating a sentiment that he’d voiced earlier in the day. “They really are. They’re wonderful to have. They’re dangerous, and full of excitement. However, at this point in my life, I’ve had enough of this excitement. I’d much rather be at home with a woman, and a family like you have, than out here on the water. But this is the alternative.”
> Before taking his leave of Jason and Tom—he offered handshakes, they gave him hugs—Conant presented them with a regift of his own, in the form of prisoners’ MREs. These were leftovers from the cleanup crew, and surprisingly delicious, at least by itinerant standards. (“They swam in a thick, delicious savory gravy,” Conant wrote of the dumplings he’d sampled. “Yum yum.”) Of the seventeen meals that remained, he kept four for himself, abstemious, and left his would-be tormentors with the other thirteen, “subconsciously hoping,” as he put it, that the odd number would prove a source of tension.
> By the standards of type A expedition athletes, Conant can’t claim even a proper descent of the country’s grandest river (“old pal, unpredictable friend,” he called it), whose official headwaters are at Lake Itasca, fifty-odd miles upstream of where he put in for his own ostensible full-Mississippi voyage, in 2009. But you can’t catch a Greyhound to Lake Itasca, so he settled for Bemidji, where “one of a string of lakes that form the headwaters,” as he explained it to me, was within walking distance of a store that sold cheap canoes.
> He recalled the time, in Bozeman, in the dark, when he had inadvertently put the boots on the wrong feet and scarcely noticed any discomfort, and he now determined to switch them regularly as a matter of preservation, as if rotating the tires on a car.
> Conant’s annotations on them were sparse, mysterious, and at times alarmist. An asterisk in the middle of the shipping channel, south of Annapolis, was accompanied by three exclamation marks and the words “OUCH DISASTER.”
> At a rest stop, they overheard a couple of men in the parking lot making disparaging references to the spectacle of the two of them, with their truck bed full of junk. “They called us Sanford and Son,” Wells said. “It kind of hurt Dick’s feelings. I was like, ‘Dick, don’t worry about it. Those guys are stuck in Hampton, Virginia, picking up trash. Their whole lives, they could try, and they won’t see the things you’ve seen, and meet the people you’ve met.’ ”
April 24, 2022
If listening to the audio version of this book counts as reading, then this gem jumped to the top 5 of my all-time favorite books! The story, as well as the writing, remind me of others such as "Into The Wild" by Krakauer and "River Horse" by Least-Heat Moon. We get to know the main protagonist, Dick Conant. through various stories and interviews with people who crossed paths with Conant over the years. No other book has held me spellbound quite like this book did. I listed to the entire audio book in 2 days. The narrator did a fantastic job.
April 13, 2022
I loved this and want everybody to read it.
April 22, 2022
I don't know why I went on this journey with the author and the protagonist. I never connected with either one.
September 17, 2023
I really enjoyed this book. A blurb on the back cover describes it as “part detective story, part remembrance, and wholly faithful to a decent man full of peculiarities.” And that sums it up well.
It’s a celebration of a man and a life, foibles and all, that I found compelling and beautiful.
It’s a celebration of a man and a life, foibles and all, that I found compelling and beautiful.
June 19, 2023
This book is ostensibly about Dick Conant, the titular “Riverman”, a magnetic personality and presence by all accounts. He mysteriously went missing in 2014 while canoeing through North Carolina.
Conant and the author’s paths had crossed just months before the disappearance and McGrath set out to interview and meet people Conant wrote about in his recovered journals. Conant was the type of man whom someone would meet once but think of fondly and often through the years.
I was interested in Conant and his multi-state, multi-month canoe adventures across the US. Somewhat a vagabond, he nonetheless drew people in with his openness, attentiveness, and storytelling. The problem is that it seems there wasn’t enough material for McGrath to write a book just about Conant. He often took long tangents to write about other paddlers and his own encounters with people who had met Conant, which I found less than interesting.
This may also be mean, but for a professional writer (journalist at the New Yorker), I expected higher quality of writing. Maybe McGrath’s skills extend only to articles and not books, but I found it lacking. He seemed to be writing just to fill space; file this book under something that could have been an article or novella.
Conant and the author’s paths had crossed just months before the disappearance and McGrath set out to interview and meet people Conant wrote about in his recovered journals. Conant was the type of man whom someone would meet once but think of fondly and often through the years.
I was interested in Conant and his multi-state, multi-month canoe adventures across the US. Somewhat a vagabond, he nonetheless drew people in with his openness, attentiveness, and storytelling. The problem is that it seems there wasn’t enough material for McGrath to write a book just about Conant. He often took long tangents to write about other paddlers and his own encounters with people who had met Conant, which I found less than interesting.
This may also be mean, but for a professional writer (journalist at the New Yorker), I expected higher quality of writing. Maybe McGrath’s skills extend only to articles and not books, but I found it lacking. He seemed to be writing just to fill space; file this book under something that could have been an article or novella.
June 11, 2022
I absolutely loved this book, and I struggle to understand the reviewers who were so dismissive of the story and it’s subject. It deserves better than the 3.99 stars it has as I leave my review.
I was invested in the story of Dicky Conant and his travelogue of humanity from the beginning, which for me came when a friend clipped an article in the New Yorker because one of the NC Wildlife officers mentioned had roots in our area. My interest goes beyond that, however, far beyond.
Anyone who has ever felt trapped by the indoctrination of our society, tethered by a grind that they aren’t sure they even believe in, working towards a goal that they don’t remember setting in the first place, anyone who’s ever felt like no matter what they did they were still just outside of the margins… you may see a little of yourself in Dicky Conant. Here’s the silver lining, we also get a glimpse of how powerful of an impression he made on many of the characters he met on his journey, simply by being present, and being himself.
I found McGraft’s writing style to be addictive, and his stories didn’t ramble, but rather connected dots, wove stories and threads, illuminating connective tissue that the majority of readers will miss, some even when it’s been spelled out for them. It was clear when I read the first article that came into my possession, and more so after reading the book, that his style was crafted in the wake of his master class of colleagues and predecessors at the New Yorker, like Joseph Mitchell and John McPhee, but with his own unique twists. I wait with giddy anticipation to see what long form he publishes next (not that I don’t also enjoy the articles).
Riverman isn’t just a good freshman effort, it is a work that any seasoned professional should be proud of.
I was invested in the story of Dicky Conant and his travelogue of humanity from the beginning, which for me came when a friend clipped an article in the New Yorker because one of the NC Wildlife officers mentioned had roots in our area. My interest goes beyond that, however, far beyond.
Anyone who has ever felt trapped by the indoctrination of our society, tethered by a grind that they aren’t sure they even believe in, working towards a goal that they don’t remember setting in the first place, anyone who’s ever felt like no matter what they did they were still just outside of the margins… you may see a little of yourself in Dicky Conant. Here’s the silver lining, we also get a glimpse of how powerful of an impression he made on many of the characters he met on his journey, simply by being present, and being himself.
I found McGraft’s writing style to be addictive, and his stories didn’t ramble, but rather connected dots, wove stories and threads, illuminating connective tissue that the majority of readers will miss, some even when it’s been spelled out for them. It was clear when I read the first article that came into my possession, and more so after reading the book, that his style was crafted in the wake of his master class of colleagues and predecessors at the New Yorker, like Joseph Mitchell and John McPhee, but with his own unique twists. I wait with giddy anticipation to see what long form he publishes next (not that I don’t also enjoy the articles).
Riverman isn’t just a good freshman effort, it is a work that any seasoned professional should be proud of.
May 5, 2022
The author lives in a small town near the Hudson river. One evening in 2014, he, along with one of his neighbors, encounter a man with a canoe - loaded with provisions for a long trip - and they strike up a conversation. The canoer - Dick Conant - tells a somewhat improbable story of one canoe trip after another on rivers throughout much of the continental US. A story published in The New Yorker follows - author McGrath is intrigued with the eccentric water traveler.
In the late fall of that year, McGrath gets a phone call from authorities in North Carolina. They have found an abandoned canoe and tucked away in the paperwork and other items in the canoe is McGrath's name and phone number.
But what has happened to Conant? The author's search for an answer to that question is the theme of the book - it's a fascinating read. Highly recommended.
In the late fall of that year, McGrath gets a phone call from authorities in North Carolina. They have found an abandoned canoe and tucked away in the paperwork and other items in the canoe is McGrath's name and phone number.
But what has happened to Conant? The author's search for an answer to that question is the theme of the book - it's a fascinating read. Highly recommended.
June 21, 2022
I absolutely loved this book!! It is the author's first book and he did an excellent job. I
couldn't put it down. The story of Dick Conant's river journeys are full of interesting
stories of people he meets along the way but Dick Conant the main character, is the most
interesting of all. He is a highly educated man who wants a simple life and decides to
canoe the rivers of the United States and live outside enjoying nature. People who meet him
for only and hour or two never seem to forget him. McGrath portrays him so well; this man with
a huge unforgettable personality, I just wish I had met him.
couldn't put it down. The story of Dick Conant's river journeys are full of interesting
stories of people he meets along the way but Dick Conant the main character, is the most
interesting of all. He is a highly educated man who wants a simple life and decides to
canoe the rivers of the United States and live outside enjoying nature. People who meet him
for only and hour or two never seem to forget him. McGrath portrays him so well; this man with
a huge unforgettable personality, I just wish I had met him.
May 10, 2022
Wanted to love this intriguing story. But I struggled with poor writing and composition, coupled with a wandering narrative. In the end, it was just hard to read.
November 2, 2022
This non-fiction book is about Dick Conant, who spent years of his later life traveling U.S. rivers by himself in a canoe. As a younger man, Conant was in the Navy a few years, a hospital worker, railroad, some others, never settling on a career. After taking Social Security he was free to paddle and live outdoors.
The contradiction of Conant was his solitude interrupted by stops in hundreds of towns and villages where he visited bars, churches, stores, and libraries. He always talked to people and usually made a big impression. He could make a new friend in minutes.
Conant wrote about his experiences in massive detail, kept some of the writing in the canoe, and sent some to friends or storage. His canoe was found in Alligator River region NC. in 2014. (My family drives through there almost every summer.) No body has been found.
Ben McGrath did a brilliant job researching and writing the book. He had met Conant on the Hudson and got to know him. The detailed writing led to interviews with lots of Conant’s acquaintances who mostly were vividly positive about Conant. They admired him for making a wild life choice and apparently succeeding.
Interesting book, well done.
The contradiction of Conant was his solitude interrupted by stops in hundreds of towns and villages where he visited bars, churches, stores, and libraries. He always talked to people and usually made a big impression. He could make a new friend in minutes.
Conant wrote about his experiences in massive detail, kept some of the writing in the canoe, and sent some to friends or storage. His canoe was found in Alligator River region NC. in 2014. (My family drives through there almost every summer.) No body has been found.
Ben McGrath did a brilliant job researching and writing the book. He had met Conant on the Hudson and got to know him. The detailed writing led to interviews with lots of Conant’s acquaintances who mostly were vividly positive about Conant. They admired him for making a wild life choice and apparently succeeding.
Interesting book, well done.
September 22, 2023
A drifter floats into and out of people's lives in his plastic kayak. In some ways he's a person who never met a stranger. But how does anyone know when a person with a mobile lifestyle goes missing?
The story bogged down for me in the middle, when it was less about Dick Conant's actual journeys, and on to the tributary stories of some of the people he encountered on his travels.
I have my own little tributaries to go down though -- one of my college profs once told us how, as a teen, he and a friend had rafted down the Mississippi from somewhere, Minnesota.
The story bogged down for me in the middle, when it was less about Dick Conant's actual journeys, and on to the tributary stories of some of the people he encountered on his travels.
I have my own little tributaries to go down though -- one of my college profs once told us how, as a teen, he and a friend had rafted down the Mississippi from somewhere, Minnesota.
Read
June 25, 2023DNF at page 60, i fell asleep all of the three times I tried to pick up this book.
Read
September 15, 2022There are so many ways to live a life that it's mind blowing. Here are two.
February 14, 2024
This is a good story, but I don't think it really needed to be a whole book! After I finished it, I tracked down McGrath's condensed New Yorker piece ("The Wayfairer"), and actually found it much more enjoyable. It manages to stay interesting and engaging the whole way through, with no meandering anecdotes or pointless asides. There are plenty of extra details here, but in my opinion they just don't add anything.
April 11, 2022
Part "Where the Crawdads Sing," and part "Into the Wild," and very enjoyable read. I was especially intrigued by the push-pull of Dick Conant's needs for solitude and sociability. Ben McGrath thoroughly researched Conant's canoe travels, memorable social encounters, and the mysterious end to his last journey.
June 19, 2022
From the moment the first Europeans set foot on the North American continent, the spirit of wanderlust has infected many people to explore the vast reaches of our land. In his new book about one such intrepid traveler, Ben McGrath shows that the quest to go roaming isn’t always born of a simple desire to just be on the road, but can also result from deep traumas that haunt us no matter how far we go.
“Riverman: An American Odyssey” tells the story of Dick Conant, a traveler many times over of much of the United States, mostly along the waterways that cross the country. Conant and McGrath met briefly in in the late summer of 2014, as Conant was coming down the Hudson on his way to Florida, by way of the Intercoastal Waterway. McGrath, a staff writer for The New Yorker, was intrigued by this rough-and-tumble figure with a commanding presence and a fondness for wearing overalls, and the two kept in touch up until Conant went missing a couple of months later, somewhere off the coast of North Carolina. As McGrath would learn, Conant was more than just a curious character with dreams of Kerouacian travel. He was a writer as well, keeping detailed logs of his voyages down the many rivers and streams of America. Conant’s journals provide the basis for much of McGrath’s ability to recreate Conant’s time on the water. But it’s also a story of how McGrath, through a random encounter, finds himself connected to people all over the country who came across the intrepid canoeist during his previous trips.
Conant, as he emerges in McGrath’s book, is a complicated figure who doesn’t fall easily into any sort of stereotype of what a transient person should be. Well-educated but distanced from his family, he was an Army brat who grew up in various places in America and around the world, and he suffered from mental illnesses that kept him from really connecting with others except as a passing entertainment in their lives, loath to wear out his welcome. Many of the people McGrath interviews found Conant to be charming, but not everyone. And there are times when McGrath himself runs into people who don’t always respond well to him (the adventure with “Little Brother” is right out of a horror movie in some ways). There are allusions to how solitary travel can lead to madness, and McGrath is pretty open in discussing how Conant’s struggles to have a “normal life” could’ve contributed to his seemingly endless wanderings. Conant seemingly had a connection to a mysterious woman named Tracy, who may or may not have been a figment of his imagination but who was also a sort of North Star for him to guide his way to, no matter how far he was from his homestead in Montana.
McGrath reports on Conant’s childhood, as the son of a military man and one of many children in a large family, colored by the suicide of his eldest brother and by the divorce of his parents. Conant wandered from place to place, acquiring knowledge but unable to find a place in society no matter how hard he tried, and who only really seemed happy when he was out on the waves. Conant’s disappearance, still unsolved as of this writing, is the hook to draw you in, but it’s in his life story, with its mix of accomplishments and setbacks, that is the real draw. Conant was an itinerant traveler who was otherwise homeless, but he was not a “bum.” In quoting extensively from Conant’s own writings, as well as using them to speculate about his last months and what he might have been thinking, McGrath has given Conant’s story to all of us, which is a great act of friendship even for so short an acquaintance. Dick Conant seemingly made friends wherever he went, something that McGrath learns as he retraces Conant’s steps and finds himself in similar company (though, as in the episode with the man identified as “Little Brother,” this can be more of a curse than a blessing). “Riverman” shows that the people who live on the margins of our society might have more to their story than we’re willing to admit, and it is our loss if we don’t give them the dignity they deserve.
“Riverman: An American Odyssey” tells the story of Dick Conant, a traveler many times over of much of the United States, mostly along the waterways that cross the country. Conant and McGrath met briefly in in the late summer of 2014, as Conant was coming down the Hudson on his way to Florida, by way of the Intercoastal Waterway. McGrath, a staff writer for The New Yorker, was intrigued by this rough-and-tumble figure with a commanding presence and a fondness for wearing overalls, and the two kept in touch up until Conant went missing a couple of months later, somewhere off the coast of North Carolina. As McGrath would learn, Conant was more than just a curious character with dreams of Kerouacian travel. He was a writer as well, keeping detailed logs of his voyages down the many rivers and streams of America. Conant’s journals provide the basis for much of McGrath’s ability to recreate Conant’s time on the water. But it’s also a story of how McGrath, through a random encounter, finds himself connected to people all over the country who came across the intrepid canoeist during his previous trips.
Conant, as he emerges in McGrath’s book, is a complicated figure who doesn’t fall easily into any sort of stereotype of what a transient person should be. Well-educated but distanced from his family, he was an Army brat who grew up in various places in America and around the world, and he suffered from mental illnesses that kept him from really connecting with others except as a passing entertainment in their lives, loath to wear out his welcome. Many of the people McGrath interviews found Conant to be charming, but not everyone. And there are times when McGrath himself runs into people who don’t always respond well to him (the adventure with “Little Brother” is right out of a horror movie in some ways). There are allusions to how solitary travel can lead to madness, and McGrath is pretty open in discussing how Conant’s struggles to have a “normal life” could’ve contributed to his seemingly endless wanderings. Conant seemingly had a connection to a mysterious woman named Tracy, who may or may not have been a figment of his imagination but who was also a sort of North Star for him to guide his way to, no matter how far he was from his homestead in Montana.
McGrath reports on Conant’s childhood, as the son of a military man and one of many children in a large family, colored by the suicide of his eldest brother and by the divorce of his parents. Conant wandered from place to place, acquiring knowledge but unable to find a place in society no matter how hard he tried, and who only really seemed happy when he was out on the waves. Conant’s disappearance, still unsolved as of this writing, is the hook to draw you in, but it’s in his life story, with its mix of accomplishments and setbacks, that is the real draw. Conant was an itinerant traveler who was otherwise homeless, but he was not a “bum.” In quoting extensively from Conant’s own writings, as well as using them to speculate about his last months and what he might have been thinking, McGrath has given Conant’s story to all of us, which is a great act of friendship even for so short an acquaintance. Dick Conant seemingly made friends wherever he went, something that McGrath learns as he retraces Conant’s steps and finds himself in similar company (though, as in the episode with the man identified as “Little Brother,” this can be more of a curse than a blessing). “Riverman” shows that the people who live on the margins of our society might have more to their story than we’re willing to admit, and it is our loss if we don’t give them the dignity they deserve.
July 19, 2022
Dick Conant was an American original, who found a balm for mental illness by taking to the river, solo canoeing. And canoe he did, covering many thousands of miles in the 20-plus years he was at it. He may have been troubled, but he was a genial, charismatic man, who seemed always open to a friendly chat, who built a large network of friends and acquaintances all along the country’s waterways, many of whom only met him once but recalled him with great fondness. In 2014, one of the people he ran into by chance, paddling down the Hudson on his way to Florida, was Ben McGrath, a staff writer at the New Yorker, who then wrote a much-read piece in the magazine. And then, a few months later, Conant’s canoe was found overturned on a treacherous stretch of Chesapeake Bay, with no sign of his body. This book is McGrath’s investigation of Conant’s life. He dug into almost everything, looking up many of the people Conant mentioned in his copious journals (well, handwritten notes over the maps and atlases he carried with him, many of which were recovered from his swamped canoe), verifying many of what might have seemed Conant’s tall tales. Fascinating stuff, with more than a touch of Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild (which McGrath references himself), in which a troubled person was driven to follow his dreams, or mania, into disaster.
June 8, 2022
Dickie Conant is an American orginal in a book filled with American originals. Yeah, the canoe and the things that happen on the water and the places he visits are interesting, but it's really all about the people. They are small town people of modest means, but they are all interesting, friendly, charming and a little bit kookie. I suppose that's the kind of person that you would expect to befriend a giant loquacious redneck in a canoe who hasn't bathed in a few weeks, so naturally they are the kind of people Ben McGrath found as he traced Dickie's wanderings, but I came away from the book with more of an impression that these are the regular people who populate contemporary small town America. On one level they were Dickie's people, on another they were river town people, but mostly they were just Americans. I'm not such a flag waver, but I do think that this book said something about our national character, and it made me comfortable and even a little proud to be part of it.
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