The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper (Epub)

Description

One of the most popular novels of early American literature, “The Last of the Mohicans” helped to establish James Fenimore Cooper as one of the first great and world-famous American authors. The second novel in the “Natty” Bumpo series, “The Last of the Mohicans” is set in the British province of New York during the French and Indian War. It concerns the rescue of two sisters, daughters of a British commander who are kidnapped following a Huron massacre of Anglo-American soldiers, by the two remaining survivors of the Mohican tribe. A fantastic tale of adventure, “The Last of the Mohicans” is a true American classic.

User’s Reviews

From Booklist Gr. 3-5. This large-format book showcases Wyeth’s beautiful, dramatic illustrations for The Last of the Mohicans. More than three times larger, at 11 1/2 by 9 3/4 inches, than the pictures in the familiar Scribner Classic edition, these reproductions are more clearly defined, more intensely colored, and probably closer to Wyeth’s original 42-by-30 inch oil paintings than the older prints. It would be misleading to imply that children are clamoring for a short version of Cooper’s 1826 novel or that even a respectful adaptation such as this one can capture the spirit of the original. Still, the familiar title and stunning illustrations will attract parents, and possibly children, to the handsome volume. Carolyn PhelanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From AudioFile Few are not familiar with The Last of the Mohicans. War, “Indians,” fight scenes, courage, love and death are all incorporated into this abridgment. While the abridgment is obvious, none of Cooper’s rich language is lost. Theodore Bikel is a very suitable narrator for this dramatic work. His deep, clear voice leads the listener along the shadowy forest trails and through the tribulations of the Indians, their allies and captives. Bikel modulates his voice to suit the characters while maintaining the quality and richness of the story. This is a good addition to a collection of classic literature. M.B.K. (c)AudioFile, Portland, Maine –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. Review “I think these World’s Classics editions are really fine. The notes are meaningful and very useful to students, yet the way they are indicated in the text is not intrusive. Great job!.”–Grace Epstein, Stephens College”[An] excellent inexpensive paperback edition. Much better quality than equivilant volumes. The explanatory notes are a valuable addition.”–Jeff Cupp, Troy State University”‘Historical Contexts’ concise yet thorough. Apparatus generally very satisfying in its relevance and thoroughness.”–Fred R. McFadden, Coppin State College”At last, a paperback book under $4.00! this edition is indeed a “World Classic.”–Paul Putt, Lee College”Introductory material and historical notes are helpful.”–Dr. Judy L. Martin, Missouri Western State College –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER I Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared:The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold:–Say, is my kingdom lost?Shakespeare It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that the toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before the adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an impervious boundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who fought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against the rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the mountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more martial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the practiced native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty; and it would seem that, in time, there was no recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant monarchs of Europe.Perhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate frontiers can furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness of the savage warfare of those periods than the country which lies between the headwaters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.The facilities which nature had there offered to the march of the combatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of the Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within the borders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural passage across half the distance that the French were compelled to master in order to strike their enemies. Near its southern termination, it received the contributions of another lake, whose waters were so limpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries to perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for it the title of lake “du Saint Sacrement.” The less zealous English thought they conferred a sufficient honor on its unsullied fountains when they bestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second of the house of Hanover. The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded scenery of their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of “Horican.”*Winding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the “holy lake” extended a dozen leagues still further to the south. With the high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of the water, commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted the adventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a point where, with the usual obstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the language of the country, the river became navigable to the tide.While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restless enterprise of the French even attempted the distant and difficult gorges of the Allegheny, it may easily be imagined that their proverbial acuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we have just described. It became, emphatically, the bloody arena in which most of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were contested. Forts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilities of the route, and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory alighted on the hostile banners. While the husbandman shrank back from the dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the more ancient settlements, armies larger than those that had often disposed of the scepters of the mother countries were seen to bury themselves in these forests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands that were haggard with care or dejected by defeat. Though the arts of peace were unknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its shades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes of its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the noontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents we shall attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war which England and France last waged for the possession of a country that neither was destined to retain.The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want to energy in her councils at home, had lowered the character of Great Britain from the proud elevation on which it had been placed by the talents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen. No longer dreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence of self-respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, though innocent of her imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of her blunders, were but the natural participators. They had recently seen a chosen army from that country, which, reverencing as a mother, they had blindly believed invincible–an army led by a chief who had been selected from a crowd of trained warriors, for his rare military endowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of French and Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the coolness and spirit of a Virginian boy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steady influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of Christendom.* A wide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected disaster, and more substantial evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful and imaginary dangers. The alarmed colonists believed that the yells of the savages mingled with every fitful gust of wind that issued from the interminable forests of the west. The terrific character of their merciless enemies increased immeasurably the natural horrors of warfare. Numberless recent massacres were still vivid in their recollections; nor was there any ear in the provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in with avidity the narrative of some fearful tale of midnight murder, in which the natives of the forests were the principal and barbarous actors. As the credulous and excited traveler related the hazardous chances of the wilderness, the blood of the timid curdled with terror, and mothers cast anxious glances even at those children which slumbered within the security of the largest towns. In short, the magnifying influence of fear began to set at naught the calculations of reason, and to render those who should have remembered their manhood, the slaves of the basest of passions. Even the most confident and the stoutest hearts began to think the issue of the contest was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was hourly increasing in numbers who thought they foresaw all the possessions of the English crown in America subdued by their Christian foes, or laid waste by the inroads of their relentless allies.When, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort which covered the southern termination of the portage between the Hudson and the lakes, that Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain, with an army “numerous as the leaves on the trees,” its truth was admitted with more of the craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warrior should feel in finding an enemy within reach of his blow. The news had been brought, toward the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian runner who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander of a work on the shore of the “holy lake,” for a speedy and powerful reinforcement. It has already been mentioned that the distance between these two posts was less than five leagues. The rude path, which originally formed their line of communication, had been widened for the passage of wagons; so that the distance which had been traveled by the son of the forest in two hours might easily be effected by a detachment of troops, with their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting of a summer sun. The loyal servants of the British crown had given to one of these forest fastnesses the name of William Henry, and to the other that of Fort Edward; calling each after a favorite prince of the reigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, with a regiment of regulars and a few provincials; a force really by far too small to make head against the formidable power that Montcalm was leading to the foot of his earthen mounds. At the latter, however, lay General Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the northern provinces, with a body of more than five thousand men. By uniting the several detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayed nearly double that number of combatants against the enterprising Frenchman, who had ventured so far from his reinforcements, with an army but little superior in numbers.But under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers and men appeared better disposed to await the approach of their formidable antagonists, within their works, than to resist the progress of their march by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort du Quesne, and striking a blow on their advance.After the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, a rumor was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along the margin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of the fort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to depart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northern extremity of the portage. That which at first was only rumor soon became certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the commander in chief to the several corps he had selected for this service, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubt as to the intention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried footsteps and anxious faces succeeded. The novice in the military art flew from point to point, retarding his own preparations by the excess of his violent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the more practiced veteran made his arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearance of haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently betrayed that he had no very strong professional relish for the as yet untried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set in a flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as darkness drew its veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished; the last light finally disappeared from the log cabin of some officer; the trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and the rippling stream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that which reigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.According to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of the army was broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling echoes were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of every vista of the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tall pines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless eastern sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest soldier arousing from his lair to witness the departure of his comrades, and to share in the excitement and incidents of the hour. The simple array of the chosen band was soon completed. While the regular and trained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right of the line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position on its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy. The scouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering vehicles that bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morning was mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body of the combatants wheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of high military bearing that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions of many a novice, who was now about to make his first essay in arms. While in view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and ordered array was observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter in distance, the forest at length appeared to swallow up the living mass which had slowly entered its bosom.The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to be borne on the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had already disappeared in pursuit; but there still remained the signs of another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and accommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds who were known to guard the person of the English general. At this spot were gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which showed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females, of a rank that it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of the country. A third wore the trappings and arms of an officer of the staff; while the rest, from the plainness of the housings, and the traveling mails with which they were encumbered, were evidently fitted for the reception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already awaiting the pleasure of those they served. At a respectful distance from this unusual show were gathered divers groups of curious idlers; some admiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger, and others gazing at the preparations, with the dull wonder of vulgar curiosity. There was one man, however, who, by his countenance and actions, formed a marked exception to those who composed the latter class of spectators, being neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.The person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly without being in any particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and joints of other men, without any of their proportions. Erect, his stature surpassed that of his fellows; though, seated, he appeared reduced within the ordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his members seemed to exist throughout the whole man. His head was large; his shoulders narrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands were small, if not delicate. His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to emaciation, but of extraordinary length; and his knees would have been considered tremendous, had they not been outdone by the broader foundations on which this false superstructure of blended human orders was so profanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the individual only served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. A sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long thin neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of the evil disposed. His nether garment was of yellow nankeen, closely fitted to the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by large knots of white riband, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings, and shoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur, completed the costume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle of which was concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited, through the vanity or simplicity of its owner. From beneath the flap of an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed silk, heavily ornamented with tarnished silver lace, projected an instrument which from being seen in such martial company, might have been easily mistaken for some mischievous and unknown implement of war. Small as it was, this uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of most of the Europeans in the camp, though several of the provincials were seen to handle it not only without fear but with the utmost familiarity. A large, civil cocked hat, like those worn by clergymen within the last thirty years, surmounted the whole, furnishing dignity to a good-natured and somewhat vacant countenance, that apparently needed such artificial aid, to support the gravity of some high and extraordinary trust.While the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb, the figure we have described stalked into the center of the domestics, freely expressing his censures or commendations on the merits of the horses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.”This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but is from foreign lands, or perhaps from the little island itself, over the blue water?” he said, in a voice as remarkable for the softness and sweetness of its tones as was his person for its rare proportions. “I may speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down at both havens; that which is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is named after the capital of Old England, and that which is called ‘Haven,’ with the addition of the word ‘New’; and have seen the snows and brigantines collecting their droves, like the gathering to the ark, being outward bound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and traffic in four-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast which verified the true scripture war-horse like this. ‘He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.’–It would seem that the stock of the horse of Israel has descended to our own time; would it not, friend?”Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal which, in truth, as it was delivered with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some sort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the holy book turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed himself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the object that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright, and rigid form of the “Indian runner,” who had borne to the camp the unwelcome tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a state of perfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristic stoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullen fierceness mingled with the quiet of the savage that was likely to arrest the attention of much more experienced eyes than those which now scanned him, in unconcealed amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk and knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether that of a warrior. On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about his person, like that which might have proceeded from great and recent exertion, which he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colors of the war paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce countenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage and repulsive than if art had attempted an effect, which had been thus produced by chance. His eye alone, which glistened like a fiery star amid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native wildness. For a single instant, his searching and yet wary glance met the wondering look of the other, and then, changing its direction, partly in cunning and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the distant air.It is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silent communication, between two such singular men, might have elicited from the white man, had not his active curiosity been again drawn to other objects. A general movement amongst the domestics, and a low sound of gentle voices, announced the approach of those whose presence alone was wanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the war-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, that was unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; where, leaning with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for a saddle, he became a spectator of the departure, while a foal was quietly making its morning repast on the opposite side of the same animal.A young man in the dress of an officer conducted to their steeds two females who, as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to encounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she was the most juvenile in her appearance, though both were young, permitted glimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue eyes to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blow aside the green veil which descended low from her beaver. The flush which still lingered above the pines in the western sky was not more bright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the opening day more cheering than the animated smile which she bestowed on the youth, as he assisted her into the saddle. The other, who appeared to share equally in the attentions of the young officer, concealed her charms from the gaze of the soldiery with a care that seemed better fitted to the experience of four or five additional years. It could be seen, however, that her person, though molded with the same exquisite proportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the traveling dress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of her companion.No sooner were these females seated than their attendant sprang lightly into the saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb, who, in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin, and turning their horses’ heads, they proceeded at a slow amble, followed by their train, toward the northern entrance of the encampment. As they traversed that short distance, not a voice was heard amongst them; but a slight exclamation proceeded from the younger of the females as the Indian runner glided by her unexpectedly and led the way along the military road in her front. Though this sudden and startling movement of the Indian produced no sound from the other, in the surprise, her veil also was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed an indescribable look of pity, admiration, and horror, as her dark eye followed the easy motions of the savage. The tresses of this lady were shining and black, like the plumage of the raven. Her complexion was not brown, but it rather appeared charged with the color of the rich blood, that seemed ready to burst its bounds. And yet there was neither coarseness nor want of shadowing in a countenance that was exquisitely regular and dignified, and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in pity at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of teeth that would have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil, she bowed her face and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts were abstracted from the scene around her.* * *As each nation of the Indians had either its language or its dialect, they usually gave different names to the same places, though nearly all of their appellations were descriptive of the object. Thus, a literal translation of the name of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the tribe that dwelt on its banks, would be “The Tail of the Lake.” Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now indeed legally, called, forms a sort of tail to Lake Champlain, when viewed on the map. Hence the name.* * **Washington: who, after uselessly admonishing the European general of the danger into which he was heedlessly running, saved the remnants of the British army, on this occasion, by his decision and courage. The reputation earned by Washington in this battle was the principal cause of his being selected to command the American armies at a later day. It is a circumstance worthy of observation that, while all America rang with his well-merited reputation, his name does not occur in any European account of the battle; at least, the author has searched for it without success. In this manner does the mother country absorb even the fame, under that system of rule. All new material copyright © 1992 by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC. –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From the Inside Flap The Bookcassette® format is a special recording technique developed as a means of condensing the full, unabridged audio text of a book to record it on fewer tapes. In order to listen to these tapes, you will need a cassette player with balance control to adjust left/right speaker output. Special adaptors to allow these tapes to be played on any cassette player are available through the publisher or some US retail electronics stores. –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From the Publisher This book is in Electronic Paperback© Format. If you view this book on any of the computer systems below, it will look like a book. Simple to run, no program to install. Just put the CD in your CDROM drive and start reading. The simple easy to use interface is child tested at pre-school levels. Windows 3.11, Windows/95, Windows/98, OS/2, MacIntosh PPC OS 8.1 or higher, and Linux with Windows Emulation. Includes Quiet Vision’s Dynamic Index. the abilty to build a index for any set of characters or words. Each book is either read aloud by a actor or (for Window/95-98-ME and MacIntosh systems) by an electronic voice. For the electronic voice to work you must have TTS software installed. The Apple distributed TTS for MacIntosh: an SAPI compliant TTS for Windows. If your CD does not have the electronic voice in it (must be version 4.10 or higher) you can download a free update from Quiet Vision. –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. From the Back Cover A massacre at a colonial garrison, the kidnapping of two pioneer sisters by Iroquois tribesmen, the treachery of a renegade brave, and the ambush of innocent settlers create an unforgettable, spine-tingling picture of American frontier life in this classic 18th-century adventure—the most popular of James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales.First published in 1826, the story—set in the forests of upper New York State during the French and Indian War—movingly portrays the relationship between Hawkeye, a gallant, courageous woodsman, and his loyal Mohican friends, Chingachgook and Uncas. Embroiled in one of the war’s bloody battles, they attempt to lead the abducted Munro sisters to safety but find themselves instead in the midst of a final, tragic confrontation between rival war parties.Imaginative and innovative, The Last of the Mohicans quickly became the most widely read work of the day, solidifying the popularity of America’s first successful novelist in the United States and Europe. –This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Reviews from Amazon users, collected at the time the book is getting published on UniedVRG. It can be related to shiping or paper quality instead of the book content:

⭐ I first read Cooper’s novel in high school and found it exceedingly difficult to get through, but since I was obsessed with the Daniel Day-Lewis movie version that had just come out in theatres, I wanted to give the book a try. Granted, this is by no means a modern novel. As a literary form, the novel was still in its infancy when Cooper wrote his book. Now coming back to it years later, I can better appreciate how much the narrative does achieve. It’s a great adventure story at heart, but also a story that looks at the gaps between cultures and how various people manage. For its time, Cooper’s book achieved quite a lot and set a higher standard for novels that followed.

⭐ Beautiful copy of a gorgeous book. To refute one reviewer, this book was not about pioneer women who moved with their family, most of whom were actually very reluctant to do so. This was about two young women who were daughters of a high-ranking officer in the army. They were sent to find their father. As such, they did not have a home in which they could hide. One of the women, at least, was quite brave. And both women were extremely well respected, just as they should have been. As to the veracity of the Mohicans and the inconsistency of the Colonel’s character, this is a fictional story and like all of our lives, it is not perfect. And to those of you who say the reading is too difficult, what’s wrong with challenging your brain? It’s rewarding to manage reading and understanding a difficult book.

⭐ So this is a classic. I really enjoyed it. But be very careful which book you get. I picked up this .99 cent version. It was horrible. It said it was unabridged. Great! 700+ pages. Great. But 1. It was illustrated with random pictures that did not relate to the story, were hard to see, and graphically inappropriate. 2. It had no chapters! Really come on. Someone just copied and pasted the text onto their version and made some bombastic claim that they have the unabridged version. 3. I am not sure that it was ordered all correctly. I could not follow the book. So I ran over to the local library and picked up a paper copy and totally enjoyed it. I could not put it down. It made sense.For parents out there. There is graphic violence. The use of the English language is great. I really enjoyed hearing about the time period and I am interested in learning more about the French and Indian War. Overall, I would give it a four out of five stars and just caution you to be careful what version you get.

⭐ This story was written almost 200 years ago and describes an era about 50 years previous to the publication date. As such, the style of writing is meticulous meaning that there is a lot of time and words spent on describing the physical surroundings, which also means that the story can drag a bit at times while the reader digests the exact coloration of the trees or the rush of water in the streams. However, it is a good story. The film with Daniel Day-Lewis is quite a good film and follows the book fairly well until the ending climax, which involves the demise of the bad guy as well as the reason behind titling this story “The Last of the Mohicans”. I didn’t have problems getting through the book even though I can sometimes have a short attention span since I did get wrapped up in the story and how it would turn out. Others who don’t have that ability to concentrate on the story at hand might have more difficulties than I did. Some have commented about the ‘racial overtones’ of the story which I can postulate that this is merely a retelling of ‘the way things were’ at the time. I found no real problems with the portrayals of the various non-white characters since at the time the story is set, this is actually how they were. How could I know that – I don’t but that’s the way I see it. The non-whites are portrayed as savages at times, but only at the behest of the whites that have deluded them with empty promises, otherwise they are shown to be reasonable, human, and yes ‘noble’.If there are those readers that insist on trying to apply today’s morals and beliefs when they read this story, then this story is not for them. Reading is supposed to both inform and entertain and I believe that this book does both, but in order to fully absorb this, the reader must first both suspend their own prejudices and beliefs while also just being ‘an open book’ by accepting the basic premise and concepts in any story.

⭐ The first couple of times I started reading this book I could not get past the first few pages. I did not give up on it. The next time I had nothing else to read, but I approached it differently.I skipped the first 50 or so pages and tried again. The story gripped me and I kept going. When I had decided it was a keeper, I went back to page one and started over to catch what I had missed.When I caught up to what I had already read I just skimmed through to where I had left off, then breezed through to the end, captivated.This was in summer. I read it again the next four summers. When it came up as a Kindle read read, I had to have it. Need I say more?

⭐ There is a particularly well-known issue with regard to the “Mohicans” Cooper refers to in his title. The Mohicans were an Indian Nation of upstate New York and the Upper Connecticut River Valley. The Mohegans, the nation Uncas was a leader of, lived in Connecticut east of the New York border. The Mohegans are the Indian nation Cooper is actually referring too, not the Mohicans of present-day Stockbridge. It baffles me that the person charged with writing the intoduction to this edition did not know this. This is an important distinction that should be rectified by the publisher. It has only been 15 years since this edition wad published…The editor does well to recognize Cooper’s historic tale is more myth than history, but I encourage others to read the Introduction at least of Michael Oberg’s _Uncas_ for a clearer explanation of Cooper’s lasting effects of Native American memory and history.

⭐ This book was written in the early nineteenth century and absolutely reads as such. This means additional patience and a different kind of focus are required to appreciate the work. If affected language, long-winded descriptions of forests and character tropes/stereotypes are not your cup of tea, you might be better off skipping this book. But, if you can make it through the aforementioned trials, you’ll be rewarded with a look at how one of the earliest American novelists thought the rest of the world should (or possibly wanted to) see the nascent US. While the story for the 1992 film deviates noticeably on many specifics, the core of the plot survived the transition from novel to film and is possibly a better, more accurate realization of the tale Cooper told.Some examples of Cooper’s prose:”Manifest no distrust, or you may invite the danger you appear to apprehend.””Does he think when a hunter sees a part of the creature, he can’t tell where the rest of him should be?””[I]t should be remembered that men always prize that most which is least enjoyed. Thus, in a new country, the woods and other objects, which in an old country would be maintained at great cost, are go rid of, simply with a view of “improving” as it is called.””[H]istory, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness.”

⭐ These days I just read for the enjoyment that can result from a well spun yarn. When I saw the title of this book it brought back memories of the required readings lists that I encountered in high school back in the 1960s. Other than the title I could not remember anything about the book. Curiosity pushed me into rereading the “classic.” A couple of pages were enough to evoke memories of the struggle I had getting through the work. The English language of Cooper’s era along with a few untranslated sentences in French gave me fits. This time reading the book went a bit more smoothly. My Ph.D. has not been a total waste.For the most part the story is interesting and engaging. It does tweak an array of emotions, but I found it to be less than a thriller. About three fourths of the way through the story’s inevitability wore thin. At that point it lost its potency. I had to push myself to get through to the end. In sum, the book fell short of satisfying my appetite for a good read.

⭐ Always wanted to read something by James Fenimore Cooper. Finally did. I give it 5 stars. Exciting story, keeping you interested and intrigued as to the plot, totally readable prose. Interesting that many “memes” or “tropes” of “Indians” were here in a book written in 1823: from “Happy Hunting Ground” to Cooper commenting that we call going in single file “Indian file” to (no way around it) whole explanations about scalping and the malice, evil of the “red man.” All in all, I believe that there is good reason for this specific novel to be “a classic” and to be a worthwhile view of America that was written almost 200 years ago about a time almost 250 years ago.

⭐ I debated whether to buy this or not. The description said for a 2-4 grader so that seemed pretty simplistic for me. On the other hand the length seemed too long for a little kid. I enjoy reading at night, but honestly I’m usually so tired I can only get thru a couple pages. I just read Robinson Crusoe which is fairly long and it took me a couple months to get thru it. So I was thinking this might actually fit my desire for a fun read, something not too long for night-time reading, and be a classic that I never actually read. I got the book and again had second thoughts, but after starting to read it I think it fits my needs perfectly. They kept enough of the original book that it flows nicely and I can get thru it in a reasonable amount of time.If you are looking for the original version this is NOT it though!

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