"The Last of the Mohicans" is Storytelling Excellence

James Fenimoore Cooper provides an intricate and violent tale of family, pride, romance, and cultural tension set against the historical backdrop of the French Indian War.

Sep 26, 2024

I suspect that this will be a relatively short review. Part of this is due to the fact that I wish to avoid spoiling this book as much as possible, strange though that may seem considering the fact that there have been multiple movies based on it, the most notable of which being the widely renown 1992 film starring Daniel Day Lewis. Regardless of that film’s notoriety, being an adaptation from the book means that there will naturally be differences between the two. Considering that I’d very much like this book to be read by more of those whom I think would find it worth their while, it only feels appropriate that I keep details about the goings-on within it minimal so that it can be enjoyed as freshly as possible.

The other reason why I suspect I’m going to find it difficult to speak on this book is simply due to its supreme quality. I am not exaggerating when I say that James Fenimoore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans isn’t simply entertaining, but one of the very best books I’ve read. I find this novel genuinely excellent, so much so that I began penning this review the instant I finished it. That’s just how eager am I to begin extoling it’s fine qualities. As such, let us proceed without further ado.

It’s highly likely that many, if not most of you, have seen the 1992 film starring Daniel Day Lewis which I mentioned earlier. As such, you’re also likely already aware of the general thrust of this story, as well as its cast of characters. Regardless, I’d like to go over these in basic detail here now, to give an idea of what to expect for those who may be unawares.

The Last of the Mohicans1 is a story which largely takes place in the regions around Lake George, New York, near the middle point of the French Indian War. This conflict saw French and British settlers in the Americas, as well as native Indian tribes which they’d conscripted, fighting in territorial disputes between the British controlled American Colonies and the French controlled Canadas.

The war serves as both the backdrop and a driving motivator for the many personal conflicts that play out within the story. This is most notable in its primary antagonist, Magua. A former chief of the Huron, one of the five French-aligned tribes that comprised the Iroquois Nation, Magua is bound by duty to his French masters to lead his tribe in assisting in their war efforts against the British forces around Lake George. In the case of this story, that means the forces stationed at Fort William Henry under the command of Colonel George Munro.

Magua’s duty is not the true driving motivator for him to act against the forces and wishes of Col. Munro, however. It’s merely an excuse, one which he’s happy to use to exact vengeance against what he perceives to be grave slights that the Colonel has made against him. As such, the war itself isn’t what makes up the primary thrust of the story. Instead, we follow the daughters of Col. Munro, Cora and Alice, on their trek through the wilderness en route to Fort William Henry. They travel under the supervision of a young man who will soon stand as a member of their father’s command structure: Major Duncan Heyward of Virginia.

Duncan could safely be considered the main character of the book. While Cooper is apt to change perspectives from scene to scene, Duncan’s point of view is the one we’re most often placed in. His youthful valor is often pitted against the treacherous conniving of Magua, and we spend a great deal of time watching him grow from a competent young man, into one who is truly capable and far more knowledgeable of his native allies and enemies alike. Additionally, his romantic affections for Col. Munro’s younger daughter, Alice, provide one of the two primary romantic thrusts in the story, with the other belonging to Cora and the character who is the titular last Mohican.

Speaking of, the Mohican in question, as well as the other two members of his scouting party, are introduced early on in the trek of Duncan, Cora, and Alice. Being led along their trail by Magua, whom at this early point they’ve been led to believe is a British hired guide, the group chances into two strange encounters within the dense woods of northern New York. The first is the character who I’d say is the least notable of the story, though that’s not to say he serves no purpose: David Gamut, who is often referred to as “the singing master” by one of the titular Mohican’s party. David is a character who brings some much needed levity into what would otherwise be quite a heavy story. However, comic relief isn’t his only purpose, for while it’s made distinctly clear - and with some small amount of disdain early on - that the man’s no good in a fight, he does prove to be an unexpected pillar of hope and faith which the heroes of our story are reliably able to lean upon in some of its darkest moments. His lack of notoriety within the story has far less to do with the purpose he serves than it does the simple fact that he is the most minor of this main cast.

This is further enforced by the fact that of these two early encounters, it’s the second which holds both the greatest interest and impact for the course of this story - the introduction of the Mohican’s party. Consisting of the British scout and frontiersman Hawkeye; the last Mohican chief, Chingachgook, also called Sagamore; and the titular last of the Mohicans, Chingachgook’s son, Uncas; their meeting with the traveling party is what ultimately leads to the planned treachery of Magua being revealed, setting all future events of this story in motion.

From here on out, I shall endeavor to share no more spoilers of any kind. As I said earlier, even though the highly regarded 1992 film has made many familiar with the story, enough differences exist between it and the book that I’d rather err on the side of keeping the events of the story close to the chest. My goals with this review are fully transparent, after all: I want to get as many of you as possible who haven’t read this book yet to read it, preferably in the form of the unabridged version, as I read. I genuinely do think it’s that good.

Through his writing, James Fenimoore Cooper presents to us an image of a North America which is both beautiful and terrible. The landscapes of forests, lakes, rivers, and meadows, as well as the various mountains and valleys these exist in, are presented as simultaneously idyllic and terrifying; bastions of natural beauty that could hide danger behind every tree, bush, and rock. He achieves this through a careful balancing act. Though he doesn’t shy away from showcasing some of the horrible realities of the French Indian War, and in some rather gruesome detail, he takes care not to get lost in these details. As such, the story we’re presented is one of harrowing personal dramas supported by the elements of romance and revenge, rather than a brutal depiction of the horrid realities of warfare at that time. Cooper’s North America is an untamed land, wild in both its nature and its native peoples.

Quite a few aspects stood out to me in this book. One of them, which I presume is present due to my having read the unabridged version, is the presence of historical footnotes. When I initially encountered these I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about their inclusion. My worry was that they’d start to feel intrusive as I made my way through the story. However, I quickly found myself appreciating them for the extra clarity they added to the events portrayed. Since The Last of the Mohicans is a piece of historical fiction, having these extra notes proved helpful in not only furthering my understanding of the realities behind the dramatized historical events which occur in the story, but also sharpened my view of the setting in my mind’s eye. Because of this, while I do recognize that these could prove a distraction for some, I would still recommend reading the unabridged version of the book if you can find it.

Another aspect which pleased me was Cooper’s general avoidance of the “noble savage” trope. For those unawares, the trope of the noble savage is one that represents examples of more primitive humans and human cultures in an idealized fashion. Common to romantic literature, of which The Last of the Mohicans applies, these representations leaned on the idea of symbolizing a sense of innate goodness in humanity that was wishfully thought to exist when removed from the corrupting influences of civilization. This idea became heavily popularized during the Victorian Era, which coincides closely with the time at which Cooper wrote not just The Last of the Mohicans, but four other books in what eventually was titled the Leatherstocking Tales. More on this later.

The romantic concept of the noble savage, as well as a general romantic yearning for all the idyllic beauties of rural life outside the confines of cities, was an idea that not only swept across Great Britain at the time, but much of Western Europe and the Colonies. It’s a big reason why many of the dime novels and adventure stories of the Victorian Era, which directly overlaps with America’s Wild West era, would often feature goodly and courageous Indians or similar examples of noble savages as sidekicks and trusted allies to the heroes of the story.

Cooper can be argued to have this in Chingachgook and Uncus, but I personally would say that it’s present as a shadow only. One of the things which is key to the idea is the aspect of inherent goodness, or some displays of a higher form of honor that are treated in a reverential light. Again, there is a degree of this present in The Last of the Mohicans, but it’s highly limited by the fact that there exists personal enmities between not just Magua and Chingachgook & Uncus, but also between Magua’s Huron peoples and the remnant Delaware nation, who share lineage with the Mohicans as members of the now largely destroyed Lenape people. A commonly used element of the trope in fiction is the idea that more warlike tribes and nations were made that way by the intrusion and corrupting elements of civilization. Loose interpretations of historical fact, such as the dissemination of alcohol amongst the native nations in the Americas, are often used as examples of this. Once more, we see a shadow of that here through Magua, who puts blame on the addling effects of “the firewater” as the reason why he was disgraced by Col. Munro in the past.

Where Cooper differs from more idealistic and romanticized fiction is in the fact that he takes care to shine some light on the lies that come with such one dimensional idealism. A kernel of truth exists in such representations, and we see that recognized in the histories of Magua, Chingachgook, and Uncus, as well as those between the nations of the Huron and the Delaware/Mohicans. The reason why Cooper is able to avoid this pitfall is because it’s made clear through the context of the story that the frictions which existed between these Indian nations existed before the “pale faces” came to the Americas. These aren’t new feuds born out of the conflict between the French and the British, bringing with them those corrupting forces of civilization. Rather, they’re preexisting feuds which the more ambitious and less scrupulous members of these tribes, such as Magua, can take advantage of in furtherance of their personal aims.

This also speaks to the heart of why I found The Last of the Mohicans to be so compelling. What we get here isn’t some simple story of Colonial pathfinding and adventure. Such elements are present in the story, but the beating heart of it all lies in the interactions and relationships of our main cast. It’s a very personal and affecting story, the sort of human tale that grips you by the heart and mind and holds you in place, demanding your full attention. The attention holding nature of the story is helped through strong pacing, a good sense of when to use and release tension, and a smattering of gripping action scenes, but the meat of it is found in Cooper’s weaving of intercharacter drama. The relationships built within the story, be they friendly, loving, or antagonistic, are supported on the backs of a cast that is wonderfully well realized and fleshed out. Indeed, I can safely say that I feel like I know these characters very well, even after just one reading of the book, and that is most certainly to the author’s credit.

I’ve little else left that I’d like to say which wouldn’t step into the realms of spoilers, but I would like to finish up here by going back to an earlier point. As noted a few paragraphs ago, The Last of the Mohicans is one of five books in a greater series by Cooper which was dubbed the Leatherstocking Tales. In terms of the series chronology, it stands as the second story within it, preceded by The Deerslayer, and followed by The Pathfinder, The Pioneers, and The Prairie, in that order. This series is one which is somewhat loosely tied, as it’s through a recurring primary cast member who, as I’m given to understand it, isn’t presented as the main character in any of these stories. Naturally, I’ll have to read these over time to confirm if this is true, and let it be said that The Last of the Mohicans has certainly sparked my interest in doing so. However, another point of interest is exactly which character it is that ties this pentalogy together: the scout Hawkeye, who not only goes by a different appellation in each book, but also goes by the name of Nathaniel “Natty” Bumppo.

This was a surprising revelation for me, as this is a name I recall from my childhood, though funny enough, I don’t remember exactly where I heard it. I know it wasn’t from the 1992 movie, because I didn’t see it until I was in my twenties, nor can I recall if Hawkeye is ever referred to as Natty Bumppo in the film. I know he isn’t in this book, the most we get from him regarding this is a single passage in which he announces his given name as Nathaniel. However, upon doing some further research, I came to find that Cooper’s character wasn’t limited to his books or the various film adaptations which came from them. Apparently, Natty Bumppo has appeared in various forms of media since Cooper came up with him, acting almost as something of a folk legend. A quick scan of some of the media he’s directly appeared in, as well as some of the properties which acted as spinoffs, show that both the names and character of Natty Bumppo and Hawkeye have seen considerable use by various authors and properties2.

Taking a look at that list, I can see a few possible sources for where I would’ve first heard his name as a boy. My guess is I might’ve heard it through one of the older films at my grandparents’ house, given that my Grandpa was a massive lover of Westerns and Colonial era stories. Another possibility is M*A*S*H, which counts for one of the many unusual choices for TV shows that five or six-year-old me to choose to watch with my Mom, right alongside Columbo and Perry Mason. Regardless, this surprising spark of unclear memory from my childhood has only furthered my interest in the Leatherstocking Tales, not that the quality of Cooper’s writing wasn’t enough to do that on its own.

I’ve already made my goals with this review clear, so it’s perhaps a bit pointless for me to use my little ratings gauge. However, given that this is the first book I’ve reviewed which has earned my highest rating, it would nag at me if I didn’t do so.

Please, don’t sleep on this genuine American classic.

Full title: The Last of the Mohicans: A Narrative of 1757

At the time of writing, the character arguably most famous for using the Hawkeye name given to him by the natives he spent his life around is probably the Marvel hero of the same name.