I love history, probably because of a marvelous high school history teacher who emphasized that history is really stories about people. Consequently, I was never bored by that subject, just fascinated by the tales of people who lived in different times, different places and different ways.
Of course, not all history is created equal. Some ponderous tomes filled with dusty facts and long-winded analysis of what happened before are perfect for those late nights when insomnia hits. Some first-person narratives are more "I, I, I, me, me, me" than actual history. And sometimes, it takes several different kinds of history books too give the reader a complete picture.
Some of the more interesting historical books (and often, the most difficult to read, unfortunately) are the letters and diaries of the times' participants. Most of the time, I discount the rantings of major historical figures and go for the writings of the "Average Joe (or Joan)," because they aren't writing for posterity, they're writing for themselves. This usually means there's no posturing or self-delusion, just observations and trying to understand how life works.
Above the Arctic Circle: The Alaska Journals of James A. Carroll, 1911-1922," by James A. Carroll, is an example of the journal as history book, written by the well-known Alaskan explorer who spent many years in the wilds of Fort Yukon and early Alaska.
Carroll, who came to Alaska in 1910 at the age of 17, was an explorer, musher, pioneer, trapper and trader. Fort Yukon was a small, close-knit Athabascan village, 140 miles from Fairbanks. It was a time when travel involved days of river or trail treks, and the order of each day was survival.
Carroll has an interesting way of observing the world around him, and his world is peopled with fascinating characters, both Native and white. Carroll was an intimate participant in the history of Alaska, and he talks of events and happenings that have found their way into the annals of history, so to speak. But without a good backing in that history, some of his writings make little sense.
The first edition of this book was published in 1957 by Carroll himself. It's obvious he's gone through and made changes and notations to his original writings, and sometimes this is a little confusing.
For example, he talks about the Volstead Act, which most of us know as Prohibition. And he talks about it in the section of his journal dated 1911. But in point of fact, prohibition began in 1919, so obviously, Carroll has gone into his journals and added what he may have thought was clarification, but it leaves the reader a little confused.
But all that aside, the book is marvelous, a good picture of life before the convenience of roads and cars and railroads. Carroll is great with details of trapping and survival in the woods, living in a hostile wilderness where the other denizens of the forest would s soon eat you as sniff you.
He gives us modern folk a better picture of the Alaska spirit so often mentioned<living off the land and by one's own wits. And it's an excellent look at an unspoiled, wide-open wilderness, where almost anything was allowed, especially if you didn't get caught.
Carroll writes in a conversational style, and he's not afraid to tell stories about himself, even if he doesn't come off looking very smart. It's a fun and fascinating read.
The book ends in 1922, but Carroll continued his life in Fort Yukon, trapping, owning a store, mushing and hunting. He eventually married Fannie, and they raised 12 children, all of whom survived to adulthood except for one, Mabel, who died of meningitis at age 12.
Carroll's children stayed in Alaska, many of them becoming a part of Alaskan history as much as their father did. Carroll died in Fort Yukon in 1963, 72 years old, having spent the majority of his life in Alaska. According to the epilogue at the end of the book, about one-fourth of the Fort Yukon population is Carroll family.

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Category	Arctic & Antarctica