In the Distance

“It is true that he most likely would have died without Linus, who always made sure he had enough to eat, managed to keep the house warm while their parents were away, and distracted him with stories when food and fuel were scarce.”

This passage establishes the brothers’ bond and Linus’s key character traits, which include kindness, protectiveness, and imagination. This is the only chapter in which Linus appears as more than a memory. As a result, Diaz must quickly develop his character so the reader will understand why the protagonist spends the majority of the novel searching for his brother and the sense of belonging he provides.

“He returned to the spot where they had lost each other. He got on a crate, short-breathed and trembling, screamed his brother’s name, and looked down at the torrent of people.”

In a major plot development, the Söderström brothers become separated in Portsmouth, England when the protagonist is just a child. This has major implications for the theme of Isolation and the Search for Belonging, shapes the protagonist’s motivation, and provides the engine that drives the story forward. The rest of the novel focuses on Håkan’s efforts to find his brother.

“After setting up his new lamps, James was able to work around the clock. He became a demented skeleton, hammering away day and night, pausing only to sneak into the dark to hide his daily findings. Eileen and the children remained as lively as ever, but they were careful to stay clear of James, whose mistrustful fits of anger were becoming impossible to contain.”

The American wilderness works dramatic transformations on the people who live there and these metamorphoses are not always for the better. When James Brennan is introduced, he is one of the first people to show Håkan kindness after his separation from Linus, and he nurses him back to health when the boy is just a stranger to him. This passage shows how the once kind and generous man is twisted into a cruel, avaricious, suspicious shadow of his former self after he strikes gold. Over the course of his life, Håkan encounters many antagonistic figures driven by greed.

“Her hair poured in waves of thick amber over her shoulders, and her lips were a red that was almost black. She tilted her head, looked at Håkan with an intensity that somehow came from her lips rather than her eyes, and vanished behind the doorjamb. As soon as she was gone, the shabby dragoon came out of the room, followed by a tidy fat man.”

This excerpt introduces the characters who figure prominently in Håkan’s time in Clangston, particularly the amber-haired woman who holds him captive for a year and the “tidy fat man” who forcibly buys the Brennans’ mine and eventually frees Håkan. The intensity of the woman’s gaze foreshadows her possessive behavior toward the protagonist, and his time as her prisoner develops the theme of Isolation and the Search for Belonging. Diaz’s decision not to name the characters in Clangston emphasizes Håkan’s loneliness, the language barrier, and the mystifying nature of the dramatic events that unfold there.

“For the first time, Håkan was almost glad to have been forced to go on this journey: after his long trip and all the unimaginable adventures that lay ahead, he would arrive a grown man, and, for once, surprise his brother with tales of his own.”

The protagonist’s thoughts and emotions during the first day of his imprisonment in Clangston reflect the protagonist’s internalization of Myths of the West. The young Håkan sees himself as an adventurer “[f]or the first time” and remains confident that he will reunite with his brother. This excerpt contains both foreshadowing and irony: Håkan will indeed have many surprising tales and “unimaginable adventures,” but he’ll never share them with his brother. Over time, his relish in his exploits fades like his hopes of reuniting with Linus.

“Linus smiling. A horse neighing. The smell of porridge and coffee. His own screams. Hemp rope around wrists and ankles. Linus telling him a story. A fire warming his face. Voices. A damp cloth on his lips. Eyeglasses. The taste of honey.”

Diaz uses stylistic fragments to depict how the fever-stricken Håkan’s view of reality is reduced to isolated impressions and sensations. Håkan’s thoughts repeatedly turn to Linus, emphasizing how centrality his brother is to his motivation. Although phrases like Håkan’s “own screams” and the “[h]emp rope around wrists and ankles” paint an ominous picture, the protagonist is actually safe thanks to John Lorimer. The eyeglasses allude to the naturalist who rescues, befriends, and instructs Håkan.

“He missed Lorimer in the same way (if not with the same intensity) that he missed Linus. Both had protected him, deemed him deserving of their attention, and even seen in him qualities worth fostering. But the main virtue his brother and the naturalist shared was their ability to endow the world with meaning.”

This excerpt describes the protagonist’s emotional state and develops the theme of Isolation and the Search for Belonging by comparing his brother to his friend. At this point in the novel, Lorimer is deathly ill, and Håkan fears that he will lose someone else dear to him and be left alone again.

“Håkan grabbed him by the wrist and ordered him, with a gesture, to put the cages down. The man complied, but with his freed hand produced a single-barrel pistol and put the barrel to Håkan’s chest. Håkan’s reaction (which later, upon reflection, amazed him) was to tighten his grip on the man’s wrist rather than to let go of it. The man cocked his gun. Håkan released him.”

In an important moment for Håkan’s character development, he attempts to stop a man from stealing Lorimer’s animals and shows signs of the tremendous courage that will make him a myth. Scenes like this establish that, while many of the stories about the Hawk are false, Håkan still possesses truly heroic qualities.

“He had withered and wrinkled—the sun had burned deep crevices into his face. His eyes were permanently screwed up, but not as the result of a deliberate frown. This was just his face now, creased by the constant squint of someone facing an overwhelming light or an unsolvable problem. And his gaze, almost invisible in the narrow trench under his knit and ribbed brow, was no longer fearful or curious, but dispassionately hungry. For what, he could not tell.”

Diaz develops the theme of The Wilderness as a Source of Transformation and Growth in a surreal scene in which Håkan examines his reflection in an ornately carved wardrobe in the middle of a desert. The last time that he saw his own face was during his confinement in Clangston, and his outer growth mirrors his inner transformation. He’s battered by what he’s survived, but he’s strong and “no longer fearful.” The “unsolvable problem” that furrows his brow is a subtle hint that he will not succeed in finding his brother, and his “dispassionately hungry” gaze calls to mind his search for belonging.

“The girl was tenderly absorbed in trying to make her brother comfortable. Håkan thought that he would give his own arm to have her wipe his brow, arrange his pillow, and kiss his lips.”

Håkan is moved by Helen’s tenderness the first time he sees the ill-fated young woman. She is his first love, which advances the theme of the Isolation and the Search for Belonging. Helen’s death marks a turning point for the novel and in Håkan’s character arc.

“He had a keen memory of his departure from himself as he stabbed someone in the liver. He knew he had killed and maimed several men, but what remained most vividly in his mind was the feeling of sorrow and senselessness that came with each act: those worth defending were already dead, and each of his killings made his own struggle for self-preservation less justifiable.”

In a defining moment for the plot and the themes of The Wilderness as a Source of Transformation and Growth and Myths of the West, Håkan unleashes the full, deadly force of his physical strength against the Soldiers of Jehu after witnessing Helen’s murder. Their thirst for vengeance has long-lasting ramifications for Håkan’s life, and many people come to believe that Håkan is to blame for the innocent lives lost. Although this is the first time that the protagonist resorts to violence, this bloodshed is what he will become known for rather than his many healings and acts of kindness. After this, the name of the Hawk becomes a legend and spreads far and wide.

“Having experienced violence firsthand, Håkan realized now that all those childhood tales had to have been made up. Nobody could commit or witness those barbaric acts with such giddiness. And he preferred to think the stories were false rather than to even consider that his brother had felt such frivolous delight at bloodshed. In either case, his lies or his enjoyment darkened, for the first time, Linus’s image.”

The bloody attack on the wagon train impacts Håkan’s character development. His firsthand experience of violence changes his understanding of stories and Myths of the West, and even lowers his opinion of his brother. He cannot condone the glorification of “barbaric acts” even if they are fictional. Stories of adventure used to bring him comfort but, now that he is becoming a legend himself, he finds no solace in them.

“‘Right, the Hawk,’ someone responded. ‘You killed all those people.’ Håkan looked down. For the first time since the killings, he felt something other than pain and guilt. He felt ashamed. It would almost have been a relief to trade his torment for shame, had the humiliation not burned so much. Ashamed, embarrassed, dirty. Soiled in front of everybody. ‘We don’t want any trouble,’ said one of them with a trembling voice. ‘What are you saying? The man’s a hero!’”

Diaz develops the theme of Myths of the West and subverts the Western genre through this exchange. The pioneers on the trail recognize the Hawk from the stories and while some consider him a hero, he feels burning shame. This torturous feeling of being “[a]shamed, embarrassed, dirty” leads Håkan to isolate himself from all other humans and temporarily abandon his quest for his brother. He continues to struggle with these painful feelings for the rest of the story.

“For months, he had led a crawling existence in those bushes, hoping that by staying there, without actually deciding anything, he would return, through a motionless path, to the peace of an inanimate state. Yet, when the gift of death had been presented to him, he had used every single one of his poisoned muscles to push it away. Remaining in his degraded condition after this realization was impossible.”

This passage explains the plot development that brings Håkan out of his self-imposed isolation. His near-death experience with the venomous snake teaches him that he wants to live and gives him the resolve to continue his search for his brother. In literature, snakes are a traditional symbol of rebirth and transformation (See: Symbols and Motifs), and Håkan’s experience reflects this symbolism.

“He was now an unlit universe. How could he ever have thought the world an enormous place? It was nothing compared to his expanding emptiness. Details that once would have concerned him disappeared into the void. Did the sheriff say he was in a new country? Then where had he been before? Who had fabricated that story about those evil deeds he had not committed? Who were those brethren? All these questions faded behind Helen’s image. She had once touched his hand. Linus looked at him from afar. But these last pictures were shredded into hazy tatters and vanished in the blackness.”

Diaz uses powerful metaphors to develop the theme of Isolation and the Search for Belonging. The author depicts Håkan’s utter desolation and bereft loneliness by describing him as “an unlit universe” and an “expanding emptiness.” During past tribulations, he was able to find comfort by thinking of Helen and Linus, but the terrible shock of the sheriff’s unjust accusations renders his memories of those he’s loved and lost into “hazy tatters.”

“No one had ever smiled at Håkan like that, for no reason. It felt good. After a while, he learned to smile back. Every evening, when they bivouacked, as they built a fire and made dinner, he found it almost miraculous to be seen by someone, to be in someone’s brain, to reside in someone’s consciousness. And Asa’s presence also affected the plains, which no longer were the oppressive immensity whose existence, for such a long time, had somehow been entrusted to Håkan’s lonely gaze.”

Håkan’s budding feelings for Asa develop the theme of the search for belonging and put a twist on the image of The Wilderness as a Source of Transformation and Growth: Up to this point, the wilderness has been transforming the people in it. Now, as love grows between Håkan and Asa, the deputy’s presence transforms the wilderness, and the plains are no longer a lonely, “oppressive immensity.”

“The Linus he had loved and lost was a child. It was true that Linus had protected and cared for him, but Håkan had never before understood how young and innocent his brother had been at the time. His stories, his bravados, his knowledge, his boundless confidence—vain constructions of a little boy. The realization made him cry. He had outgrown his older brother. Never again would he find that comfort and safety in Linus’s image. He listened to Asa’s calm heartbeat and felt its throb against his temple. Asa was not a child. Fleetingly, Håkan wondered what Linus would make of him. What would he make of them? Although he still loved his brother dearly, Håkan discovered that he did not care.”

In an important development for the theme of the Isolation and the Search for Belonging and the protagonist’s character arc, Håkan’s understanding of his brother shifts irreversibly. The “comfort and safety” that he once received from Linus vanishes forever when he realizes that his brother was just a child and that someone else represents home to him now. The scene is charged with both meaning and suspense. When Håkan experiences this revelation, Asa is feverish and unconscious after breaking his leg, so Håkan is at risk of losing him right after discovering what Asa means to him.

“Only now that he knew he would see Linus again—for there was no doubt that, with Asa’s help, he would see him again—did he feel how much pain this cold shrapnel had caused him. And he understood that up to that moment he had never had a chance of finding his brother. Getting to New York? Finding him in that endless city? How would that ever have happened? Love and longing had kept him going, but now, with Asa by his side, he saw how hopeless his search had hitherto been, and how doomed it would have been without Asa’s aid.”

The protagonist examines his own character motivation and search for belonging in this passage, reevaluating his quest for his brother as well as his evolving idea of home. The “cold shrapnel” in Håkan’s chest is a potent metaphor for the pain his isolation causes him. Soon after this scene, he loses Asa, and the hope that Asa kindled within Håkan dies with him.

“Seasons went by and returned, and Håkan’s occupations never changed. A gutter overflowed. Tiles had slid out of place. Some meat had to be jerked before it spoiled. An abandoned ditch had to be filled. Drinking water was needed. […] Before one of these tasks had been completed, the next one demanded his attention, so that at all times he was engaged in one of these chores, which, together, over time, formed a circle or, rather, some sort of pattern that, though invisible to him, repeated itself, he was sure, at regular intervals.”

Diaz repeats this passage three times in the chapter with slight variations, emphasizing the cyclical pattern of Håkan’s days as well as the aimlessness he feels after Asa’s death. The disorienting feeling of déjà vu in the act of reading mirrors the feeling that time has lost all meaning for the protagonist. His life has been reduced to a series of concrete tasks carried out without a greater goal in mind. In addition, the maze Håkan constructs serves as a symbol of his isolation.

“‘We all admire what you’ve done. Like I said, you’re a legend. Getting those settlers. And then those heathens—those brethren. And then.’ He laughed in advance. ‘And then getting away on the sheriff’s horse! I mean. Hell!’ Talk. This was what Håkan had been running away from. That he was being complimented did not make it better. He wanted no more talk.”

The former Union soldier’s reference to stories of the Hawk point to the way Myths of the West form and spread. At this point in the novel, Håkan hasn’t heard the name of the Hawk in years. He’s troubled that his legend has spread so widely in that time and that the young men “admire” the violent acts that sicken him. In the Prologue, one of the passengers aboard the Impeccable claims that the Hawk was betrayed by his gang and slaughtered them all, which is likely a distorted version of the events that unfold in Chapter 21. The gang’s arrival spurs the protagonist into motion again after decades in the self-made solitude of his burrow.

“Death. That was the only explanation he could find for what he was seeing. At some point, he thought, he must have died. And now he was watching from the other side of life. For a brief moment, that was the only answer he could find. Over flat-crowned hats, wide brims, bonnets, and towering hair-dressings, by a bonfire, Håkan saw a gigantic man wearing a lion skin, his head invisible under the beast’s head, holding a gun and a bloody knife. At his feet lie two slain women in bloodstained dresses.”

To his horror, Håkan sees a group of actors performing a twisted version of his life story when he returns to Clangston. Far from making him feel a sense of connection, the continued spread and distortion of the Hawk’s legend exacerbates Håkan’s isolation and search for belonging. Ironically, everyone in the crowd of spectators knows his story yet no one recognizes him, pointing to the ways Myths of the West grow and evolve, becoming a kind of specter that eclipses the reality.

“Nothing left behind in the wilderness could ever be retrieved. Every encounter was final. Nobody came back from beyond the horizon. It was impossible to return to anything or anyone. Whatever was out of sight was forever lost.”

The narrator offers a solemn reflection on isolation and impermanence. Throughout the novel, Diaz presents The Wilderness as a Source of Transformation and Growth, while also taking from people who enter it: “Nothing left behind in the wilderness could ever be retrieved.” This is the American wilderness’s final lesson to Håkan. The passage highlights his loss of all hope of finding his brother and foreshadows his decision to leave America and return to Sweden.

“‘Whatever happened to you.’ The captain failed to find the right words. ‘Whatever you’ve done, I can tell that your life has been hard enough already. I’ve heard all the stories, but I don’t know what the truth is. You may have been a bad man once. I don’t know. But what I see now is a tired old man who has been traveling without rest and needs to end his journey in peace.’ Håkan could not look at him. ‘Like I said,’ the captain resumed in a more composed tone. ‘I used to be a fur trader. My shipping company now has a vast fleet. Have you heard of Alaska?’”

As a fellow elderly immigrant from Nordic Europe, Captain Altenbaum has empathy for Håkan. He acknowledges the myth of the Hawk, but makes an important distinction between myth and truth, noting that the legends may obscure the reality. Rather than judging the fabled figure for what he may or may not have done, the captain offers Håkan a chance to “end his journey in peace.” Structurally, Altenbaum’s invitation brings the narrative full-circle to where the prologue begins, a ship headed for Alaska.