In Patagonia by Bruce Chatwin

Source of book: I own this

 

I’m not entirely sure whether to classify this book as fiction or non-fiction. The author admits to a certain embellishment of details and rearrangement of the timeline, although not to fabrication. I am reminded of a short story I read as a kid, “Embellishment” by Jacob Abbott, a largely forgotten 19th century writer. One hopes that In Patagonia is less fabricated than that tale. 

 

This book defies classification in other ways. It is, in one sense, a travelogue, an account of the author’s travels in Patagonia. (The southern tip of South America, for those only familiar with the brand name…) It is also a metaphorical exploration of the themes of wandering, connection and alienation, and the way environment shapes humans. 

 

Oh, and there are significant sections devoted to Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and the author’s colorful cousin Charlie Milward. 

 

The trip was inspired in the first place by a memory: Chatwin’s grandparents had a bit of an animal hide they claimed was a brontosaurus. In reality, it was a bit of mylodon - a giant sloth - that Milward discovered in a cave in Patagonia. Most was donated to a museum, but he kept and sent a piece of it home. Unfortunately, that relic was tossed sometime after the grandparents died. 

 

Chatwin thus decided to take a trip to Patagonia and see if he could track down the source of that memory. Along the way, he interviews a whole host of colorful characters, explores nature, and muses on the meaning of life. 

 

The book is broken up into 97 short chapters - some as short as a paragraph, others several pages long. It is thus a good book for when you only have a few minutes at a time to read - you can grab a couple chapters here and there without losing the thread. 

 

In Patagonia is a fun, breezy read, if a bit dated in places. (It was published in 1977.) Definitely our understanding of the history of the indigenous peoples has come a long way since the book was written. 

 

The history of Patagonia is rather interesting. Like the rest of the Americas, it was colonized over the course of a few hundred years, in successive waves. After Spain left, various groups came to Patagonia, including Welsh, Irish, Scottish, German, and Russian. Each of these formed their own communities, and to this day, you can find enclaves that still speak Welsh and other languages. 

 

[Side note: the Welsh part of the history was borrowed by Madeleine L’Engle, alongside the fictional (and somewhat racist) belief in an earlier Welsh civilization founded by Madoc in the Americas.] 

 

The more modern history is fascinating as well. The various anarchist and communist movements, the Eva Peron era, and the general lawlessness of Patagonia as the forgotten backwoods of Argentina all are mentioned in the book. Starting with this interesting bit. 

 

It was lovely summery weather the week I was there. The Christmas decorations were in the shops. They had just opened the Peron Mausoleum at Olivos; Eva was in good shape after her tour of European bank vaults. Some Catholics had said a Requiem Mass for the soul of Hitler and they were expecting a military coup.

 

One can forget - or at least could before the Trump Era - that there are still plenty of people who admire and even worship Hitler. 

 

One of the crazy stories in the book is of the self-proclaimed King of Patagonia - the descendent of the original supposed king. I won’t get into all of the story - but it is pretty funny, in a dark way. As a Chilean priest said about the original guy, “This kingdom exists only in the minds of drunken idiots.”

 

The whole Butch Cassidy story is crazy. I hadn’t really looked into it that much. We do know that Cassidy, the Sundance Kid, and the Kid’s partner Etta Place fled to Patagonia with their stolen money. Chatwin chases down as many claims about them as he was able. Some are likely true - they did ranch for a while, before committing another robbery in Argentina. They probably did flee from there to Chile, at which point things get far more murky. 

 

In between, of course, there are all kinds of legends - multiple claims of having known the outlaws - that Chatwin found as he interviewed the eyewitnesses and their descendants. 

 

Where things become more speculative is in Chile. The official story for years was that after Etta returned to San Francisco (probably true), Cassidy and the Kid were killed in a gun fight with law enforcement. 

 

This is plausible, except for the fact that much later, the remains were DNA tested and came back as unrelated to the known relatives of the outlaws. So, what happened? I was surprised to find that no one really knows for sure, and no reputable confirmed evidence exists as to their final fate. A true mystery. 

 

In this section, there is a description that I loved. 

 

I walked the 1.444 kilometers and reached a house of corrugated iron, with twin gables and a high pitched roof, built in a style more suitable for granite. 

 

Another digression in the book is about John Davis, who wrote about his various sea voyages, including some harrowing episodes near the Cape. It was his story that inspired “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” - Chatwin points out some of the parallels. 

Another literary parallel comes from the various fantastic tales that gave Patagonia its name - legends of large-footed giants. One of these, Book of Amadis, would inspire an episode in Shakespeare’s last play, The Tempest - which is set in a place very similar to the mythical islands of Patagonia. 

 

I mentioned that some things in the book were a bit dated. One thing that is not is that Chatwin has no illusions of the superiority of white people. We do in fact meet a lot of racists in the book - both past and present - but Chatwin’s commentary makes it clear that he himself did not consider the Indigenous peoples to be “savages” or “primitives.” Here is one example:

 

In the 1890s a crude version of Darwin’s theory, which had once germinated in Patagonia, returned to Patagonia and appeared to encourage the hunting of Indians. A slogan: “The Survival of the Fittest,” a Winchester and a cartridge belt gave some European bodies the illusion of superiority over the far fitter bodies of the natives. 

 

I do have to mention one particularly amusing anecdote. Chatwin ended up interviewing an old English woman, Miss Nita Starling, who recounted the following. 

 

Miss Starling had an adventure staying with Mrs. Wood. One night she was fumbling for her latchkey when a China-boy put a knife to her throat and asked for her handbag.

‘And you gave it him,’ I said.

‘I did no such thing. I bit his arm. I could tell he was more frightened than me. Not what you’d call a professional mugger, see. But there’s one thing I’ll always regret. I so nearly got his knife off him. I’d have loved it for a souvenir.’

 

I don’t have any colorful quotes from the extended account of the author’s cousin’s adventures, but I will say that they were interesting. The guy was quite the character long before the incident with the sloth. Among other things, he survived a shipwreck and served as British Consul. 

 

As a final quote, I liked this one. Chatwin finally gets his chance to look for the giant sloth. He is greeted by Herman Eberhard, one of those who discovered the cave, and the skin that would eventually make its way to Chatwin’s grandparents.

 

A tall, eagle-faced man, with white hair and patrician manners, came to the door. I explained, nervously and in Spanish, about Charley Milward and the Giant Sloth.

‘So,’ he said in English, ‘you are of the family of the robber. Come in.’

 

This book will definitely make you want to visit Patagonia - and it is a fun read. Even if you have to take the stories with a few grains of salt, perhaps.