*WARNING: Spoilers

Summary

Sanger Rainsford, an experienced hunter, finds himself the hunted when washed up on the shore of an island inhabited by one General Zaroff and his companion, who has grown weary of animal game and has switched over to a potentially more worthy adversary: man. Rainsford has to play the game in order to survive and leave the island, and while the two hunters may be evenly matched in terms of intelligence, experience, and instinct, Zaroff has more than a few tricks up his sleeve and certainly more resources, hounds as bloodthirsty as their master being an example. Rainsford, however, will not make it easy on the devilish hunter, and only the end will tell who will bleed.

In this short story, humanity and the question of who is the greater beast are questioned.

Analysis Rant

I love it when a book I read answers the question/comment I had while reading a totally unrelated book. It just all feels so circular, like books are all working in your best interest to help you along with life. In the previous book I read, The Big Four by Agatha Christie, something that I found very lacking was properly done suspense. While still the queen of mystery, that book was something of an anomaly, and it wasn’t a fav by any stretch of the 2-star rating. The book was filled with so much exposition in the wrong places and too little exposition in the right places. As I mentioned, she basically had us telling us the “what” of everything with very little “why.” Very little was left to the semi-intelligent brain of this reader, even to the degree that the criminals themselves were not well hidden. The Most Dangerous Game, however, had just enough exposition for the reader to read between the lines and get the point. And with this, suspense was created and allowed. By just explaining what is happening, there is little room for feelings of anxiety or uncertainty about what is going to happen next. It’s almost like you don’t even care what happens next if there has already been too much exposition that explained everything.

As well, with this book, the writer allowed the dialogue to move the story along far more than the description itself at the beginning and at the end. For sure, in the middle, a lot of it was descriptive, but that was largely because it wouldn’t necessarily work for the story and flow if there was a sudden monologue in the middle. Everything that needed to be explained had been explained by that point and had been explained through characters speaking to each other, much like in real life. Exposition worked well when action itself was the main motivator in the story’s pace. When set-up was no longer needed, and simply the main events and their consequences needed to take their course, exposition was perfectly valid and well done for such a short story.

When setting up the scene and adding motive and deeper understanding, dialogue was used but in a sparse way, in a way that humans actually talk. Because, I don’t know about you, but silence is used as much as speech is in regular conversation, especially when it’s something that is too horrible to put into words (or other reasons). And certainly, we don’t talk in a way where everything about everything is explained and every question is answered. Silence is used really well in the story, and it’s almost like the most important parts aren’t said, which creates this tension and ambiguity that we don’t like all that much as common readers (or just as humans) nowadays. We LIKE everything to be spelled out. In life, it usually isn’t. We should have more books that lean into that again. For, we as humans need to learn that again, I feel.

But really, with the dialogue-heavy introduction to the setting and then to the conflict, it felt like the reader was figuring things out at the same pace as the main character, rather than just having the author word dump on them within the exposition, or throwing extremely obvious clues to the degree that there is no surprise in it. You got to feel with the main character. You got to feel the disgust and creepiness of the situation along with him. The book was more externally focused, without a significant amount of internal dialogue, which The Island of Moreau had a decent amount of. This is fine for what it is, but in some ways, it does make you feel a coldness from Rainsford’s character. In such a way, it really felt like Rainsford and General Zaroff were actually quite similar, two sides to the same coin, with Rainsford depicted as the more “righteous” character and Zaroff the bonkers one. But what makes that interesting is that in the end, Rainsford fully plays into Zaroff’s game right until the end. So even though Zaroff loses, he still wins. This was still very much an option that played right into his plan.

So while Rainsford is the righteous character in comparison to Zaroff, in the end, he chooses the path of the violent hunter. There is no third option choice. He simply falls in line with Zaroff’s monologue from the beginning, and in the end, the silence and good night’s rest could be interpreted as him having a clear conscience, which is fascinating. It strikes the question of meaning. For one thing, I find it interesting that there is an undercurrent of unspoken approval of hunting large game (including tigers and buffalo) within the book, which may be just a sign of the times, but at the same time, with that current, it almost feels like the ending is presenting approval for murder when survival is on the line. For sure, that’s not to say self-defense is not a thing. It is. But I wonder, at that point in the book, whether it was truly self-defense for him or if he could have found a third option. As he was able to escape by the sea, why could he not have just gathered his resources together and escaped the island? In the end, they did fight fairly, to some degree, and perhaps Rainsford might not have even allowed him the chance to fight and, instead, killed him in his sleep or something. But perhaps simply not killing him in his sleep does give him permission to kill him after having alerted him first. That would have been a far more cowardly way but the outcome is the same. The pure lack of remorse that is felt in those last lines does side with a bit of coldness, but it’s interesting to think about the argument that could be had in regard to what is a “justified kill.” In terms of the writing, though, I love good contrasting characters that are similar in some base way but with each haven chosen a different path. Feels very Voldemort v. Harry Potter, Slytherin v. Gryffindor sorting hat.

Also, let’s just say that I don’t think any show or book does the “third option” route better than Avatar: The Last Airbender. Convince me otherwise.

Writer’s Takeaway

• Villains can be mirrors of a hero’s path not taken. “You are me,” the villain says. “I may be like you, but I am not you. I have chosen a higher calling,” says the hero. There are no villains and heroes at birth. Or are there?
• Comparison, adding contrasting characters; villain as the extreme; “You are me.” Voldemort?
• Good v. evil will always be a theme worth telling. In this day and age, adding nuance can add value for someone, though. Good and evil do not always equal black and white when humans are concerned.
• Use silence in writing. Lean into ambiguity. It feels uncomfortable, but you can use that as a writer for suspense. Not everything needs to be explained.
• Descriptive dialogue is a great way of learning things along with the characters.
• Choose internal and external perspectives wisely. That will be a huge part of how your audience views the characters.

Annotated Passages

“Great sport, hunting.”
“The best sport in the world,” agreed Rainsford.
“For the hunter,” amended Whitney. “Not for the jaguar.”
“Don’t talk rot, Whitney,” said Rainsford. “You’re a big-game hunter, not a philosopher. Who cares how a jaguar feels?”
“Perhaps the jaguar does,” observed Whitney. “Bah! They’ve no understanding.”
“Even so, I rather think they understand one thing—fear. The fear of pain and the fear of death.”
“Nonsense,” laughed Rainsford. “This hot weather is making you soft, Whitney. Be a realist. The world is made up of two classes—the hunters and the huntees. Luckily, you and I are hunters.“

→ It’s interesting to read this again after having finished the book. I wonder if Rainsford would change his opinion after having gotten off the island.

→ He has no empathy for the animal, but then he becomes the “animal” to be hunted. Would he change from that, having felt the fear that the animal felt? Or would he still separate himself from the beasts he has killed?

→ Also, you can see that Rainsford’s philosophy and Zaroff’s are not that different from each other. Zaroff has simply pushed it to an extreme.

“There was no breeze. The sea was as flat as a plate-glass window. We were drawing near the island then. What I felt was a—a mental chill; a sort of sudden dread.”

→ Great use of suspense and foreshadowing

“One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship’s company with his fear.” “
Maybe. But sometimes I think sailors have an extra sense that tells them when they are in danger. Sometimes I think evil is a tangible thing—with wave lengths, just as sound and light have. An evil place can, so to speak, broadcast vibrations of evil.

→ Fascinating writing. Evil has a pulse, an undercurrent.

“Ivan is an incredibly strong fellow,” remarked the general, “but he has the misfortune to be deaf and dumb. A simple fellow, but, I’m afraid, like all his race, a bit of a savage.”
“Is he Russian?”
“He is a Cossack,” said the general, and his smile showed red lips and pointed teeth. “So am I.”

→ I was unnerved by this, as it leans towards racist language. But the author is doing something interesting by having Zaroff place himself in the same category after criticizing Ivan and, in doing so, gives off good foreshadowing for the savagery that Rainsford would indeed see.

“God makes some men poets. Some He makes kings, some beggars. Me He made a hunter. My hand was made for the trigger, my father said.

→ How often do we use God as an excuse for our dysfunctions when we are the ones to blame

→ Perhaps God made him a hunter, but that is not an excuse to become a killer.

I was lying in my tent with a splitting headache one night when a terrible thought pushed its way into my mind. Hunting was beginning to bore me! And hunting, remember, had been my life. I have heard that in America businessmen often go to pieces when they give up the business that has been their life.”

→ An odd piece of random wisdom; even the evil can make sense, which goes to show that much can be explained and rationalized away when using our own tools and standards of measurements

→ Thought about how quickly we lose ourselves when stopping something that we have wrapped our identity around

“Simply this: hunting had ceased to be what you call ‘a sporting proposition.’ It had become too easy. I always got my quarry. Always. There is no greater bore than perfection.”

→ And yet, to many a man, perfection is the beast that we hunt

“I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war—” “Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder,” finished Rainsford

“Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth—sailors from tramp ships—lascars, blacks, Chinese, whites, mongrels—a thoroughbred horse or hound is worth more than a score of them.”

→ “Romantic ideas about the value of human life”… Zaroff’s position is that of the fatalist, Marxist, and the cynic in its most exaggerated form; today, as well, there are traces of this argument being held and heard; I almost feel like there are some ties to Doctor Moreau within this as well when considering how science is often placed at odds with the “romanticism” of religion

→ There is racist language in this… but at the same time, it’s almost like Zaroff hates all humanity, himself included, such as was shown in his identifying with his people, “the savage Cossacks”; in such a way, he using broad stroke language to include everyone; it is simply a matter of power to him

→ He holds himself true to his philosophy, though; he plays his game and accepts the consequences; he does not expect to lose, but at the same time, he holds himself to his own standard of morality, and he does not flinch even when faced with death; he was simply “weaker,” and therefore, “not worthy” by his own philosophical code; while it is so twisted, it’s so interesting

“I have played the fox, now I must play the cat of the fable.”

→ I like the fabled language; something we are familiar with, with a horror twist to it… although fables are often a form of horror anyway

The general was playing with him! The general was saving him for another day’s sport! The Cossack was the cat; he was the mouse. Then it was that Rainsford knew the full meaning of terror.

→ Similar to the terror mentioned by Whitney?

Rainsford did not smile. “I am still a beast at bay,” he said, in a low, hoarse voice. “Get ready, General Zaroff.”

→ In such a way, it seems he identifies more with the hunted beast; or perhaps, he is just simply using Zaroff’s language

→ In terms of character development, it’s so interesting, especially considering how short the book is

Book Recommendations (and Books/Shows Mentioned)

• The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells
• Lord of the Flies by William Golding
• Harry Potter series
• Avatar: The Last Airbender television series