I am decidedly late to this party.
“The Boys In The Boat,” by Daniel James Brown, and “Unbroken,” by Laura Hillenbrand, are two of the more popular nonfiction books of the past few years. “The Boys In The Boat” is still hanging around the NYT bestseller list three years after its release. If you haven’t read either of the books, you’ve probably at least heard of them. Maybe you saw the film version of “Unbroken,” written by the Coen brothers and directed by Angelina Jolie; in the future, maybe you’ll catch the “TBITB” movie, too, which is currently in production. Point being, these two tomes are as widely read and widely applauded as books about history can be. I’m not breaking any new ground by telling you to read them. They’re both well paced, tightly written and highly entertaining, the sorts of books you can read in a couple long sittings, if you’re into that sort of thing.
What jumped out to me the most, though, was their similarities. “Unbroken” tells the truly unbelievable story of Louie Zamperini, a kleptomaniacal California kid who turned into an Olympic distance runner before the age of 20. Then World War II begins, and Zamperini enlists and is sent to the Pacific theater, where his plane goes down over the open ocean. What follows is a cavalcade of gnar, including six weeks floating at sea in a six-foot raft, shark attacks, capture by the Japanese, and an ensuing marathon of torture as a POW, of both the physical and mental varieties. When the war finally ends in August 1945, Zamperini and his fellow POWs are a week away from being massacred by their captors. It’s no surprise his readjustment to civilian life afterward was a bit of an adventure.
“TBITB” is a local tale, outlining the journey of the UW men’s crew that won the gold medal for the United States at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin — incidentally, the same games at which Zamperini finished seventh in the 5,000 meters (he even makes a minor cameo in “TBITB”). Brown’s book follows most closely a young man named Joe Rantz, from Sequim, who was abandoned by his father and stepmother during the early years of the Great Depression and set out to make a life of his own. He falls in with the rowing program at the UW and finds a group of like-minded souls from likewise difficult backgrounds, and they come together to form one of the greatest teams in the sport’s history. It’s your typical underdog story, with a real Pacific Northwest twist. The scenes of the team rowing across Lake Union were particularly enjoyable to absorb from my go-to reading spot overlooking the very same body of water.
Both books trace the lives of remarkable American athletes who were born during the 1910s, came of age during the Great Depression, and went on to compete right under Adolf Hitler’s nose at the 1936 Games. Both lives were indelibly shaped by the war. Both men faced incredible hardships — Zamperini’s admittedly a degree or four more terrifying — and both men used those trials to fuel their fires within. They refused to be beaten down by their circumstances. Zamperini and Rantz both decided that they, and they alone, would be the masters of their own fates.
Both books are about human dignity. Joe Rantz’s greatest challenge came when his family abandoned him in a log cabin in Sequim and told him to fend for himself. He did. Rantz learned he could overcome what at first seemed impossible, learned that he couldn’t rely on other people to affirm his self-worth. He would not, and could not, allow outside forces to wear him down. It’s a useful way to think in crew, one of the most mentally and physically draining sports in existence. There’s a reason so many members of this particular UW team, and so many great athletes in general, come from poverty. The lack of a safety net is a powerful thing.
Zamperini’s trials were greater, of a real existential nature, whether it was spending 47 days at sea or being beaten unconscious on a daily basis by a sadistic Japanese guard known as The Bird. But he eventually comes to the same realization as Rantz. In the face of such horrors, Zamperini and the rest of the POWs do whatever they can to preserve their dignity and their self-image. They steal useless items from the guards and risk beatings in the process, because in petty theft, at least, they still retained agency. The men were not the playthings of their captors. They were soldiers. It’s unimaginable bravery in the face of unimaginable circumstances. Nearly a third of American POWs in Japanese hands during the war died. To survive, to come out on the other side and thrive, is an accomplishment much greater than any Olympic medal.
Happiness, true happiness, satisfaction with oneself, belief in one’s worth, dignity — none of it comes from possessions, or from winning races, or even from the relationships in one’s life. All those things can vanish, and then what? Facing that very question, both Joe Rantz and Louie Zamperini turned within and found greatness. Part of why reading books is important is because it teaches us empathy, and we can learn a lot by stepping inside these two men’s minds. Let’s not start any more World Wars anytime soon, shall we?