Roy Chapman Andrews in the field
I raced through my wife’s gift, Quest in the Desert by my boyhood hero, Roy Chapman Andrews–the story of an expedition to Mongolia in the 1920s, and the wild adventures of the leader and his dog. These are avatars of Andrews and his dog, to whom he dedicated the book; and the adventures are based on his actual experiences.
I was expecting a rip-snorting yarn, and I got one. What I wasn’t expecting was an undertone of sadness that will haunt me for a while.
The Mongolia that Andrews fell in love with is long gone, the world he inhabited is only a memory–and I’m old enough now to empathize with that. My world’s pretty much gone, too, and I don’t much like the one that’s replaced it. And yet there’s more to it than that.
I somehow got the impression of a man who, wherever he went, didn’t quite fit in. Certainly he was needing something that he couldn’t seem to find.
And then, watching some film footage of Andrews’ expeditions, it occurred to me that maybe the wistfulness was in me, not the writer. Watching the black-and-white ghosts of Andrews’ bygone world, I found myself longing for it in some way that I could hardly understand.
I have read much of Andrews’ non-fiction, and now I’ve read his novel, written more than twenty years after he had to leave Mongolia for good, the communist regime having kicked out all the Westerners. And now I think I know what Roy Chapman Andrews was missing–mind you, my conclusion is based only on the words he committed to publication.
There is no sign, in any of this printed work, that the author had any communion with the God who created him, whose Son redeemed him. And looking out on our God-rejecting age–which, with a little bad luck and a lot of stupidity and wickedness, could turn out looking like Northern China in 1926–it makes me think that a human being without God is incomplete, and will never be complete. There is only so far we can go without Him, and that’s not far enough.
Which, I believe, was the broken part of Roy Chapman Andrews. He traveled very far indeed, but never far enough.
From February 20 2017
Wow!
Ezekiel 9:4 “Go through the midst of the city, even through the midst of Jerusalem, and put a mark on the foreheads of the men who sigh and groan over all the abominations which are being committed in its midst.”
OK, we aren’t talking about Jerusalem in your case or my case, but the sighing and groaning over the abominations of our age affect us all. If there were no future hope of redemption, our every breath would be drawn in vain. The mark mentioned above spared one from God’s negative judgement, be glad to have that mark.
I’ve seen enough of this world (think world-system, not geography) to know that nothing it has to offer is truly desirable. One can have wealth, power and prestige, but that is still trivial in comparison with the blessings of living under righteous conditions in a restored earth.
RCA seemed to have everything he’d ever wanted: but I can’t dismiss the undertone of sadness I find in his novel.
Let me contrast that. When someone writes a novel from a God fearing perspective, there is an undertone of joy and goodness that upbuilds the reader.
In more recent years, I have learned a bit about Mongolia, itself. Much of it is cold and arid, but the summers have a lovely beauty, which remind me of the high plains of eastern Colorado, which is the only place I’ve ever wanted to live, and the winters are not quite as cold as they are in Mongolia.
Sadly, that place I love, while it still exists, has become a very expensive place to live, and the crime rate has soared. It’s still there, geographically, but the place has changed so much socially that I now avoid it. It would probably be accurate to say that the spiritual state of that place has changed dramatically. When I visit, these days, I find myself in the same position as someone “needing something that he couldn’t seem to find”. Or more accurately, needing something I can no longer seem to find.
What we all need is spiritual edification, and our current culture doesn’t seem to provide much of this, anymore. It’s us, as individuals, and God, through the merits of Christ’s sacrifice.
It is very sad to lose a place that you love. The place that it was, I mean.
I was born in Minnesota, but the gloom of winters there never agreed with me. My parents moved to Colorado, when I was in my early teens, and it was like life started anew. Warm summers, with afternoon monsoons, lovely falls, winters which combined copious snowfalls, with rapid melting and plenty of blue-sky days, which I loved. Then a glorious spring season, complete with cherry blossoms.
It was a climate, it was a place, and it was a culture, all of which I loved. The place, the terrain was interesting, and if you knew where to look, you could find Stegosaurus footprints immortalized in stone. The geology was fascinating, and there were cuts for highway construction where the geological layers were on open display. The Morrison Formation was named for Morrison, CO. right down the road.
Then there were the mountains. Drive just a few miles west and you were in the Colorado Rockies. Lookout Mountain stood 3,000’ above the already mile high terrain and you could see to the far reaches of the Denver metro area. Every scene in this video is familiar, and my old neighborhood is visible around 1:30 in the video linked below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzsao_JZLfE
The culture, when I was in my teens, was a combination of heartland America with a dash of Western influence. Cowboy boots were common footwear and the uniform of the day might well have been Levis, Tony Lamas and a western cut shirt. We identified with the heritage of the west, and loved the Country Rock music that was popular when we were growing up. That was us, 50 years ago, and it’s who I am to this day.
Sadly, if I go to the geographic coordinates of the Denver I knew, these days, you will find something much more like Los Angeles, including the traffic problems.
That is really too bad. So many places were wonderful, then change came and mostly never for the better.
People came in, fleeing the high prices on the west coast. Now the real estate prices in Denver are off the charts. I actually have a lead on a good job in Denver, but the cost of buying a house there would be prohibitive.
Real estate prices in some places have become insane,.
A Lee Duigan classic article for sure! Without Christ all our own works are burned up at the Judgment Seat. To live is Christ; to be famous and do exploits is nothing in the end without faith in the saving God Who created us.
You are so right. Lee had a way of tying it all together.