Into the Wild (French Edition)
Il avait renoncé au rêve américain. Pour vivre une aventure extrême. Livre-culte dans le monde entier, Into the Wild a été magistralement porté à l'écran par Sean Penn. Toujours plus loin. Toujours plus seul. Inspiré par ses lectures de Tolstoï et de Thoreau, Christopher McCandless a tout sacrifié à son idéal de pureté et de nature. Après deux années d'errance sur les routes du Sud et de l'Ouest américain, il rencontre son destin (à vingt-quatre ans) au c¿ur des forêts de l'Alaska. Un parcours telle une étoile filante dans la nuit froide du Grand Nord." C'est un voyage à travers une Amérique très petite et très grande, à travers des paysages aussi beaux que les avait rêvés un jeune homme qui prit juste le temps de les atteindre. C'est un voyage absurde et exaltant, qui commence par un geste de folle liberté et s'achève par une mort de haute solitude. Bref, c'est une histoire. Et elle a le mérite et la tristesse d'être vraie. "Danièle Heymann, MarianneTraduit de l'anglais (Etats-Unis)Par Christian Molinier
1107120699
Into the Wild (French Edition)
Il avait renoncé au rêve américain. Pour vivre une aventure extrême. Livre-culte dans le monde entier, Into the Wild a été magistralement porté à l'écran par Sean Penn. Toujours plus loin. Toujours plus seul. Inspiré par ses lectures de Tolstoï et de Thoreau, Christopher McCandless a tout sacrifié à son idéal de pureté et de nature. Après deux années d'errance sur les routes du Sud et de l'Ouest américain, il rencontre son destin (à vingt-quatre ans) au c¿ur des forêts de l'Alaska. Un parcours telle une étoile filante dans la nuit froide du Grand Nord." C'est un voyage à travers une Amérique très petite et très grande, à travers des paysages aussi beaux que les avait rêvés un jeune homme qui prit juste le temps de les atteindre. C'est un voyage absurde et exaltant, qui commence par un geste de folle liberté et s'achève par une mort de haute solitude. Bref, c'est une histoire. Et elle a le mérite et la tristesse d'être vraie. "Danièle Heymann, MarianneTraduit de l'anglais (Etats-Unis)Par Christian Molinier
22.99 In Stock
Into the Wild (French Edition)

Into the Wild (French Edition)

by Jon Krakauer

Narrated by Benjamin Jungers

Unabridged — 7 hours, 35 minutes

Into the Wild (French Edition)

Into the Wild (French Edition)

by Jon Krakauer

Narrated by Benjamin Jungers

Unabridged — 7 hours, 35 minutes

Audiobook (Digital)

$22.99
FREE With a B&N Audiobooks Subscription | Cancel Anytime
$0.00

Free with a B&N Audiobooks Subscription | Cancel Anytime

START FREE TRIAL

Already Subscribed? 

Sign in to Your BN.com Account


Listen on the free Barnes & Noble NOOK app


Related collections and offers

FREE

with a B&N Audiobooks Subscription

Or Pay $22.99

Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

John Krakauer shows off his narrative prowess in Into the Wild, which chronicles the disappearance and death of Christopher Johnson McCandless. With a captivating voice and vivid imagery, Krakauer transports readers into the wilderness with Christopher.

Il avait renoncé au rêve américain. Pour vivre une aventure extrême. Livre-culte dans le monde entier, Into the Wild a été magistralement porté à l'écran par Sean Penn. Toujours plus loin. Toujours plus seul. Inspiré par ses lectures de Tolstoï et de Thoreau, Christopher McCandless a tout sacrifié à son idéal de pureté et de nature. Après deux années d'errance sur les routes du Sud et de l'Ouest américain, il rencontre son destin (à vingt-quatre ans) au c¿ur des forêts de l'Alaska. Un parcours telle une étoile filante dans la nuit froide du Grand Nord." C'est un voyage à travers une Amérique très petite et très grande, à travers des paysages aussi beaux que les avait rêvés un jeune homme qui prit juste le temps de les atteindre. C'est un voyage absurde et exaltant, qui commence par un geste de folle liberté et s'achève par une mort de haute solitude. Bref, c'est une histoire. Et elle a le mérite et la tristesse d'être vraie. "Danièle Heymann, MarianneTraduit de l'anglais (Etats-Unis)Par Christian Molinier

Editorial Reviews

Portland Oregonian

Haunting...few outdoor writers can match Krakauer for bringing outside adventure to life on the page.

San Francisco Chronicle

Compelling and tragic...Hard to put down.

Entertainment Weekly

It may be nonfiction, but Into the Wild is a mystery of the highest order.

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

After graduating from Emory University in Atlanta in 1992, top student and athlete Christopher McCandless abandoned his possessions, gave his entire $24,000 savings account to charity and hitchhiked to Alaska, where he went to live in the wilderness. Four months later, he turned up dead. His diary, letters and two notes found at a remote campsite tell of his desperate effort to survive, apparently stranded by an injury and slowly starving. They also reflect the posturing of a confused young man, raised in affluent Annandale, Virginia, who self-consciously adopted a Tolstoyan renunciation of wealth and return to nature. Krakauer, a contributing editor to Outside and Men's Journal, retraces McCandless' ill-fated antagonism toward his father, Walt, an eminent aerospace engineer. Krakauer also draws parallels to his own reckless youthful exploit in 1977, when he climbed Devils Thumb, a mountain on the Alaska-British Columbia border, partly as a symbolic act of rebellion against his autocratic father. In a moving narrative, Krakauer probes the mystery of McCandless' death, which he attributes to logistical blunders and to accidental poisoning from eating toxic seed pods.

The Portland Oregonian

Haunting...few outdoor writers can match Krakauer for bringing outside adventure to life on the page.

Voice Literary Supplement

A clear refinement of character, spirit, peace.

The Seattle Times

Riveting...an absorbing story.

LA Times Book Review

Engrossing...with a telling eye for detail, Krakauer has captured the sad saga of a stubborn, idealistic young man.

The Washington Post

Gripping stuff...a detailed narrative of arresting force.

The New York Times

Terrifying...eloquent...A heart-rending drama of human yearning.

From the Publisher

"A narrative of arresting force. Anyone who ever fancied wandering off to face nature on its own harsh terms should give a look. It's gripping stuff."
—Washington Post

"Compelling and tragic ... Hard to put down."  
—San Francisco Chronicle

"Engrossing ... with a telling eye for detail, Krakauer has captured the sad saga of a stubborn, idealistic young man."
—Los Angeles Times Book Review

"It may be nonfiction, but Into the Wild is a mystery of the highest order."
—Entertainment Weekly

Product Details

BN ID: 2940177175539
Publisher: Univers Poche
Publication date: 09/09/2021
Edition description: Unabridged
Sales rank: 704,839
Language: French

Read an Excerpt

THE ALASKA INTERIOR

April 27th, 1992

Greetings from Fairbanks! This is the last you shall hear from me, Wayne. Arrived here 2 days ago. It was very difficult to catch rides in the Yukon Territory. But I finally got here.

Please return all mail I receive to the sender. It might be a very long time before I return South. If this adventure proves fatal and you don't ever hear from me again I want you to know you're a great man. I now walk into the wild.—Alex.

(Postcard received by Wayne Westerberg in Carthage, South Dakota.)


Jim Gallien had driven four miles out of Fairbanks when he spotted the hitchhiker standing in the snow beside the road, thumb raised high, shivering in the gray Alaska dawn. He didn't appear to be very old: eighteen, maybe nineteen at most. A rifle protruded from the young man's backpack, but he looked friendly enough; a hitchhiker with a Remington semiautomatic isn't the sort of thing that gives motorists pause in the forty-ninth state. Gallien steered his truck onto the shoulder and told the kid to climb in.

The hitchhiker swung his pack into the bed of the Ford and introduced himself as Alex. "Alex?" Gallien responded, fishing for a last name.

"Just Alex," the young man replied, pointedly rejecting the bait. Five feet seven or eight with a wiry build, he claimed to be twenty-four years old and said he was from South Dakota. He explained that he wanted a ride as far as the edge of Denali National Park, where he intended to walk deep into the bush and "live off the land for a few months."

Gallien, a union electrician, was on his way to Anchorage, 240 miles beyond Denali on the GeorgeParks Highway; he told Alex he'd drop him off wherever he wanted. Alex's backpack looked as though it weighed only twenty-five or thirty pounds, which struck Gallien—an accomplished hunter and woodsman—as an improbably light load for a stay of several months in the backcountry, especially so early in the spring. "He wasn't carrying anywhere near as much food and gear as you'd expect a guy to be carrying for that kind of trip," Gallien recalls.

The sun came up. As they rolled down from the forested ridges above the Tanana River, Alex gazed across the expanse of windswept muskeg stretching to the south. Gallien wondered whether he'd picked up one of those crackpots from the lower forty-eight who come north to live out ill-considered Jack London fantasies. Alaska has long been a magnet for dreamers and misfits, people who think the unsullied enormity of the Last Frontier will patch all the holes in their lives. The bush is an unforgiving place, however, that cares nothing for hope or longing.

"People from Outside," reports Gallien in a slow, sonorous drawl, "they'll pick up a copy of Alaska magazine, thumb through it, get to thinkin' 'Hey, I'm goin' to get on up there, live off the land, go claim me a piece of the good life.' But when they get here and actually head out into the bush—well, it isn't like the magazines make it out to be. The rivers are big and fast. The mosquitoes eat you alive. Most places, there aren't a lot of animals to hunt. Livin' in the bush isn't no picnic."

It was a two-hour drive from Fairbanks to the edge of Denali Park. The more they talked, the less Alex struck Gallien as a nutcase. He was congenial and seemed well educated. He peppered Gallien with thoughtful questions about the kind of small game that live in the country, the kinds of berries he could eat—"that kind of thing."

Still, Gallien was concerned. Alex admitted that the only food in his pack was a ten-pound bag of rice. His gear seemed exceedingly minimal for the harsh conditions of the interior, which in April still lay buried under the winter snowpack. Alex's cheap leather hiking boots were neither waterproof nor well insulated. His rifle was only .22 caliber, a bore too small to rely on if he expected to kill large animals like moose and caribou, which he would have to eat if he hoped to remain very long in the country. He had no ax, no bug dope, no snowshoes, no compass. The only navigational aid in his possession was a tattered state road map he'd scrounged at a gas station.

A hundred miles out of Fairbanks the highway begins to climb into the foothills of the Alaska Range. As the truck lurched over a bridge across the Nenana River, Alex looked down at the swift current and remarked that he was afraid of the water. "A year ago down in Mexico," he told Gallien, "I was out on the ocean in a canoe, and I almost drowned when a storm came up."

A little later Alex pulled out his crude map and pointed to a dashed red line that intersected the road near the coal-mining town of Healy. It represented a route called the Stampede Trail. Seldom traveled, it isn't even marked on most road maps of Alaska. On Alex's map, nevertheless, the broken line meandered west from the Parks Highway for forty miles or so before petering out in the middle of trackless wilderness north of Mt. McKinley. This, Alex announced to Gallien, was where he intended to go.

Gallien thought the hitchhiker's scheme was foolhardy and tried repeatedly to dissuade him: "I said the hunting wasn't easy where he was going, that he could go for days without killing any game. When that didn't work, I tried to scare him with bear stories. I told him that a twenty-two probably wouldn't do anything to a grizzly except make him mad. Alex didn't seem too worried. 'I'll climb a tree' is all he said. So I explained that trees don't grow real big in that part of the state, that a bear could knock down one of them skinny little black spruce without even trying. But he wouldn't give an inch. He had an answer for everything I threw at him."

Gallien offered to drive Alex all the way to Anchorage, buy him some decent gear, and then drive him back to wherever he wanted to go.

"No, thanks anyway,"Alex replied, "I'll be fine with what I've got."

Gallien asked whether he had a hunting license.

"Hell, no," Alex scoffed. "How I feed myself is none of the government's business. Fuck their stupid rules."

When Gallien asked whether his parents or a friend knew what he was up to—whether there was anyone who would sound the alarm if he got into trouble and was overdue Alex answered calmly that no, nobody knew of his plans, that in fact he hadn't spoken to his family in nearly two years. "I'm absolutely positive," he assured Gallien, "I won't run into anything I can't deal with on my own."

"There was just no talking the guy out of it," Gallien remembers. "He was determined. Real gung ho. The word that comes to mind is excited. He couldn't wait to head out there and get started."

Three hours out of Fairbanks, Gallien turned off the highway and steered his beat-up 4 x 4 down a snow-packed side road. For the first few miles the Stampede Trail was well graded and led past cabins scattered among weedy stands of spruce and aspen. Beyond the last of the log shacks, however, the road rapidly deteriorated. Washed out and overgrown with alders, it turned into a rough, unmaintained track.

In summer the road here would have been sketchy but passable; now it was made unnavigable by a foot and a half of mushy spring snow. Ten miles from the highway, worried that he'd get stuck if he drove farther, Gallien stopped his rig on the crest of a low rise. The icy summits of the highest mountain range in North America gleamed on the southwestern horizon.

Alex insisted on giving Gallien his watch, his comb, and what he said was all his money: eighty-five cents in loose change. "I don't want your money," Gallien protested, "and I already have a watch."

"If you don't take it, I'm going to throw it away," Alex cheerfully retorted. "I don't want to know what time it is. I don't want to know what day it is or where I am. None of that matters."

Before Alex left the pickup, Gallien reached behind the seat, pulled out an old pair of rubber work boots, and persuaded the boy to take them. "They were too big for him," Gallien recalls. "But I said, 'Wear two pair of socks, and your feet ought to stay halfway warm and dry.'"

"How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it," Gallien answered. Then he gave the kid a slip of paper with his phone number on it, which Alex carefully tucked into a nylon wallet.

"If you make it out alive, give me a call, and I'll tell you how to get the boots back to me."

Gallien's wife had packed him two grilled-cheese-and-tuna sandwiches and a bag of corn chips for lunch; he persuaded the young hitchhiker to accept the food as well. Alex pulled a camera from his backpack and asked Gallien to snap a picture of him shouldering his rifle at the trailhead. Then, smiling broadly, he disappeared down the snow-covered track. The date was Tuesday, April 28, 1992.

Gallien turned the truck around, made his way back to the Parks Highway, and continued toward Anchorage. A few miles down the road he came to the small community of Healy, where the Alaska State Troopers maintain a post. Gallien briefly considered stopping and telling the authorities about Alex, then thought better of it. "I figured he'd be OK," he explains. "I thought he'd probably get hungry pretty quick and just walk out to the highway. That's what any normal person would do."


From the Hardcover edition.

From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews