1As a writer in the Southern (and, arguably, Appalachian) Gothic style, Ron Rash repeatedly turns to death and familial dysfunction in his stories. However, the ways in which Rash incorporates gender roles and expectations into his deaths, particularly deaths due to hypothermia, is unique. Two instances of this unfortunate condition, afflicting Jared in “The Ascent” and Denton in “A Sort of Miracle,” have more in common than simply physical affliction. In both of these stories, the main protagonists’ ideas of masculinity play a role in their development of the condition. Through these notions of (sometimes fragile) masculinity, readers can also take note of the ways in which the environments these males inhabit reflect gendered notions. Such notions further the implication that masculinity impacts the circumstances that seal their fates. These portrayals of environment and masculinity are then connected to a broader western worldview to represent more clearly both the ideas that may inform Rash’s narratives as well as how we read and interpret them.

2“The Ascent,” originally published in Burning Bright (2010) and later included in Something Rich and Strange (2014), focuses on the experiences of Jared, an eleven-year-old living in western North Carolina with his parents who, throughout the story, abuse methamphetamine. On one of his forays into the woods near his home, Jared stumbles upon a downed aircraft and the remains of its occupants. Search teams have struggled to locate the aircraft but, rather than alert authorities to his find, Jared chooses to keep the site a secret, using it as a prop for one of the many scenarios he creates within his imagination. Inside the small plane, Jared finds two bodies: “A woman . . . in the passenger seat, her body bent forward like a horseshoe. . . . Her left arm was flung out before her and on one finger was a ring” and a man “across from her [who] leaned toward the pilot window, his head cocked against the glass” (Something 25). After a few moments in the plane, Jared hears a sound amid the snowy silence and realizes that the man’s watch is still intact. These valuables on the human remains, which Jared removes, also serve Jared’s family, as his father sells them for drugs and in order to obtain a bike for his son. Unfortunately, Jared is never able to ride the bike, as the story takes a heart-wrenching turn.

3“A Sort of Miracle,” from the collection Nothing Gold Can Stay (2013) and also later included in Something Rich and Strange, focuses on Denton, the protagonist of the story, his quest to kill a bear, and the fraught relationship between Denton and his brothers-in-law, Baroque and Marlboro. Denton is married to the boys’ sister, Susie, and the brothers have recently relocated from Florida to live with the couple in western North Carolina near the Great Smoky Mountains National Park at Susie’s encouragement. Since the brothers have arrived, Denton has been experiencing “some problems” (Something 249) that have begun to affect his sex life. He believes that extracts from a bear will cure his impotence, hence his rationale behind finding and killing one of the creatures. The story follows Denton on this adventure and its surprising conclusion.

4Paul Zweig, in The Adventurer: The Fate of Adventure in the Western World, notes that tales of adventures, such as these short stories by Rash, seem to be “the oldest, most persistent subject matter in the world” (6), and that this proliferation is largely due to the themes of “ideal” masculinity that reside within such adventure narratives. As exemplified in both “The Ascent” and “A Sort of Miracle,” correctly performing societal constructions of white, western (particularly Southern) masculinity—acting as the protector of women, the sexual god, and the conqueror of wilderness—are points of pride for the protagonists, who fail to see the peril in letting such performances drive their actions and choices. In fact, these characters’ choices seem to embody Zweig’s observation “that man risking his life in perilous encounters constitutes the original definitions of what is worth talking about” (6). Edward J. Whitelock expands on this as it pertains to Rash’s work, noting that a Southern code of honor “exclusive to white males” exists and is evident as, “in the highly class-stratified South, questioning one’s manhood or his ability to provide for his family or to protect his property was experienced as an insult” (192), and insults must be handled through violence or dominance, lest the reputation of the man in question be ruined. While this performative masculinity and code of honor is easily identifiable in Denton’s actions, such behavior may be subtler when analyzing Jared’s character, certainly because Denton is an adult and Jared, an eleven-year-old youth. However, Jared’s fantasies in “The Ascent” can help us detect how this code shapes his action as well.

6Throughout “The Ascent,” the ways in which Jared’s parents perform traditional gender roles is evident, despite their impairment from drug abuse. When Jared returns home with the diamond ring he lifted from the deceased woman in the airplane wreckage, and his father notices it, it is the father who travels to Bryson City to “find out if it’s real or not” (28), leaving Jared at home with his mother. This imparts to the reader that the father is in charge of the family’s financial dealings. Of course, the father discovers the ring is valuable and uses the money from its sale to obtain goods for his family, fulfilling yet another gender stereotype: the man as provider.

7While Jared’s father does spend some of the proceeds from the ring’s sale on an abundance of methamphetamine—as Jared observes, “four baggies, two with powder still in them. There’d never been more than one before” (28-29)—he also purchases Jared’s favorite cereal (Lucky Charms) and a mountain bike for his son. The bike was not new, “some of the blue paint chipped away, one of the rubber handle grips [was] missing, but the tires didn’t sag and the handlebars were straight” (29); however, the father’s generosity and care for his son are manifest, and he is clearly grateful for Jared’s presence in their family. He could have purchased additional drugs with the money he spent on the bike, or perhaps only spent the money on necessities, but instead he chose to indulge his son’s desires, an act that portrays him as a provider, not only for his son’s needs (the cereal, for example), but also for Jared’s wants. Jared’s father also manipulates the truth when his son asks about the ring’s whereabouts: “‘The sheriff took it. . . . When I showed it to the jeweler, he said the sheriff had been in there just yesterday. A woman had reported it missing. I knew you’d be disappointed, that’s why I bought you that cereal’” (29). While it is doubtful whether Jared believes his father’s lie, there is some care shown amid the obvious dishonesty in that his father bothers to conceal the truth, to protect his son from disappointment, and, perhaps, influence the way Jared sees him. Jared initially plans to surprise Lyndee with the ring, so that she “would finally like him, and it would be for real” (27), yet again displaying a performance of stereotypical masculine roles. While Jared’s father does sell the ring, he makes an attempt to account for his son’s feelings, even if the act of selling his son’s discovery is rather selfish. Oddly enough, one can also consider the drugs that the father purchases to indicate his desire to care for his family. Jared’s mother seems to be far more ill than his father when the methamphetamine diminishes; therefore, in order to see his wife healthy and happy, Jared’s father procures for them her drug of choice. Of course, the father indulges in the substance as well, but he does not seem to be as negatively impacted by ceasing use and is the one who is able to travel in order to obtain the substance.

8Jared’s father also proves himself as the family’s provider during their hunt for the perfect Christmas tree to replace the one created by his mother out of kindling and aluminum foil. Continuing to show his care, Jared’s father initially asks Jared if he would prefer a larger tree, after the boy chooses “a Fraser no taller than himself” (30). When Jared shakes his head no, his father “kneel[s] before the tree. The saw’s teeth were dull but his father finally broke the bark and worked the saw through. They dragged the tree down the ridge and propped it in the corner by the fireplace” (30). Once the tree arrives at the family’s home, Jared’s father “went out to the shed and got a hammer and nails and two boards” (30) to create a stand for their Christmas tree. Moreover, “[w]hile his father built the makeshift tree stand, Jared’s mother cut more stars from the newspaper” (30) in order to decorate their home. The father, engaged in an activity of manual labor, displays yet again the traits of a Southern cis-gender male while Jared’s mother engages in interior decorating and homemaking, actions often associated with Southern heteronormative females.

9It can be argued through an ecofeminist lens that the father’s commodification of the tree and his concern regarding its small size are also indicative of western masculinities that elevate androcentrism, anthropocentrism, and capitalism, causing increased destruction of the environment. Ideas of class, gender, and anthropocentrism are frequently found throughout Rash’s work. In “The Ascent,” Jared’s imaginary killing of a bear, even if to protect Lyndee, appears to be resonant of such anthropocentrism. While Jared may not be exhibiting elevation of the totality of these ideals, his family structure may be grooming him to grow into someone who upholds these worldviews, even if subconsciously.

10Jared’s yearning to escape his home environment, which eventually leads to his untimely demise, can certainly be seen as the result of living under oppressive circumstances, and the familial representations of masculinity that Jared inherited only further complicate his experiences. His sense of responsibility for his family, even as an eleven-year-old child, instills in Jared that he needs to be the provider, particularly when his father is unavailable to fill the role. After his parents “‘did too much partying’” (31) and are suffering through withdrawal, Jared’s mother asks him to “‘fix us a fire, honey’” (31) although her husband is in the same room, “his blue eyes receding deep into his skull, his lips chapped and bleeding” (30). Jared obliges, and once the fire is lit, he turns to his parents and suggests that they “‘take the bike down to Bryson City and sell it’” (31) in order to purchase more methamphetamine. His parents decline Jared’s offer, arguing that they will feel better in time and that the bike is Jared’s Christmas present. “But as the morning passed, they got no better” (31) and Jared again feels the pull of his role as the de facto provider, enters the scene of the wreckage and returns with the male victim’s wristwatch, a Rolex, for his parents to sell in order to meet their physical needs. When Jared returns to his home, watch in his pocket, the necessity of his role as the family provider is quite clear:

He could see his parents . . . huddled together on the couch. For a few moments Jared simply stared through the window at them.

When he went inside, the fire was out and the room was cold enough to see his breath. (32)

11When presented with the watch, Jared’s mother responds, “‘Thank you, Jared. . . . You’re the best son anybody could have, ain’t he, Daddy?’” to which Jared’s father echoes, “‘The very best’” (32-33). Jared’s parents’ praise of his bringing them the Rolex only serves to cement in Jared’s mind that his parents are his responsibility.

12The appearance of Jared’s parents in this scene, with his mother “wrapped in a quilt, shivering” (30) and his father’s obvious chill as he “rub[s] his biceps” (30), likens them to the frozen couple found in the downed aircraft, though Jared’s parents’ chills are clearly from withdrawals. The images of blood on his father and blood on the pilot solidify this connection as well. Additionally, the coldness of the room and Jared’s relative comfort within it suggest that his later ease when surrounded by snow is not abnormal, even if it does cause his demise. It is also significant that Jared notices the room’s chill, but does not build a fire until his mother suggests so. While his actions in this scene (building the fire, taking care of his parents) seem far beyond his age, his need for direction indicates that he is not yet fully able to care for himself and that he may not be quite ready to take on Zweig’s notions of manly adventure.

13Interestingly, throughout this scene, Jared’s mother tries to re-establish her role as a primary caregiver, painting herself as the nurturer that traditional Southern cis-gender roles have conditioned her to be. She gently chides Jared upon his return saying, “‘You shouldn’t go off that long without telling us where you’re going, honey’” (32) and instructing, “‘You stay here, honey’” while promising, “‘We’ll be back in just a little while. We’ll bring you back a hamburger and a Co-Cola, some more of that cereal too’” (33). However, Jared’s desire to perform his learned masculinity, and with it, the traits of self-reliance and responsibility, leads him on another adventure once his parents’ truck is out of sight. In their absence, Jared “make[s] sure the fire was out” (33) and, after “empty[ing] his backpack of schoolbooks” (33), fills it with the tools he needs to fix the crumpled airplane, displaying his imagined maturity and sense of obligation as a provider. His father’s continued possession of such tools also speaks to his own ideas of masculinity. Instead of pawning the tools for methamphetamine, he sells other objects instead, suggesting that his self-worth as a Southern man is tied to tool ownership and the attributes such ownership represents: self-reliance and the ability to provide for one’s family.

14Both Jared’s imagined ability to fix a downed aircraft and his desire for escapism, as discussed earlier, are rooted in the boy’s struggle to internalize and perform the masculinity that he has inherited from his father:

he took the tools from the backpack and laid them before him. He studied the plane’s crushed nose and propeller, the broken right wing. The wrench was best to tighten the propeller, he decided. He’d straighten out the wing with the hammer.

As he switched tools and moved around the plane, the snow fell harder. Jared looked behind him and on up the ridge and saw his footprints were growing fainter. He chipped the snow and ice off the windshields with the hammer’s claw. Finished, he said, and dropped the hammer on the ground. He opened the passenger door and got in.

“I fixed it so it’ll fly now,” he told the man.

He sat in the backseat and waited. . . . After a while he began to shiver but after a longer while he was no longer cold. (33-34)

15Jared’s performative masculinity is made clear through his attempt at repairing the airplane. While Jared oftentimes appears (or at least believes himself to be) more capable than his own father, the latter’s actions still serve as a model for Jared’s, as we see when the father uses the tools to build a stand for the Christmas tree, or when he uses the saw to cut it down.

16Unfortunately, as an eleven-year-old, Jared underestimates the danger of the snowstorm and, unable to find his way out of the woods, believes instead that he is airborne, “waiting for the clouds to clear so that he might look for the pickup as it followed the winding road toward Bryson City” (34). This desire to see his parents’ truck is expressive of a child’s desire to be near their family, even when it is dysfunctional. Despite their drug use, Jared does love his parents, as is evidenced in part by his performance of masculinity to match that of his father.

17The heteronormative male behavior Jared manifests throughout the story is replaced in the final death scene by a child’s wonder and imagination: Jared, watching from inside the aircraft, shows no anxiety nor fear as “snow cover[s] the plane’s front window with a darkening whiteness” (34). Moreover, “the whiteness was not only in front of him but below,” indicating to Jared that “they had taken off and risen so high that they were enveloped inside a cloud” (34). This lack of worry may be interpreted as bravery at first glance, or perhaps even apathy. However, his lack of action and concern is the result of his being unable to fully care for himself, as he is still a child. Unfortunately, Jared’s desire for a stereotypical masculine adventure coupled with an inflated sense of maturity from learned masculine performance leads to the situation in which he freezes to death in the very same wilderness that he, throughout the story, attempts to tame.

18Many of the anthropocentric and androcentric tendencies learned by Jared can also be found in Denton, the protagonist of “A Sort of Miracle.” Denton’s internalized sense of masculinity results in the harsh judgment he passes on himself and other male-identifying characters in the story. Denton, much like Jared and Jared’s father, seems to equate Southern masculinity with hard work and providing for one’s family, as Whitelock discusses. Early on, Denton refers to Marlboro and Baroque, his brothers-in-law as “lard-asses and claim[s] they lacked ambition and would never amount to anything” (243). Because the brothers-in-law have yet to find jobs after relocating from Florida and living for two months with Denton and Susie, Denton surmises that “[e]vidently they expected the jobs to haul themselves up to [his] front porch” (246). Denton has “a good job as an accountant” (247), a career considered to be white collar, that allows for a comfortable standard of living, and operates under standard 9-to-5 business hours. It is also noted that accounting is math and logic-based work, which plays into stereotypes of male strengths, strengths that he is unable to see in Marlboro and Baroque.

19The pride Denton takes in his career and hardworking nature is echoed in the pride he feels regarding his sexual prowess. He complains about sexual relations with his first wife, who “was so frigid that each time they had sex she might as well have been embalmed. Eventually, every time they did it he’d hear organ music inside his head, the same kind that oozed out of funeral home walls” (247). Denton’s sense of frigidity in the living seems in some ways to foreshadow his own experience of frozen corporeality in the story’s conclusion. However, while this experience will prove to take place essentially on a physical level, related as it is to natural elements, his former wife’s reticence has emotion as its root cause, as well as—perhaps—Denton’s less-than-charming personality.

20Denton’s wife Susie also experienced sexual differences in her prior marriage, and while Denton does acknowledge Susie’s former husband’s proclivities—“Her first husband had made Susie wear his dead aunt’s Sunday church hat every time they had sex” (247)—he minimalizes her experiences, insisting that “his first wife had been even worse” (247). Because of this history, Denton seems quite concerned over the recent upsets in his sexual relations with Susie: “Until the brothers-in-law showed up, Susie tended to moan some and rock the bed a good bit, but there wasn’t much of that anymore, and now Denton was starting to have some problems, and Denton had never had problems, at least with Susie” (249). It is precisely these “problems” that prompt Denton’s research into Traditional Chinese Medicine and its proposed cures. Denton’s pride nudges him toward alternative medicine, and disallows him from discussing his impotence with allopathic physicians. He voices these apprehensions and his admiration for TCM, as it appeals to his sense of Southern masculine pride:

The Chinese also knew how to cure certain male problems without having to explain them to a doctor and then after that having to take the prescription to a pharmacy where some eighteen-year-old cashier would stop chewing her bubble gum just long enough to do something stupid like say your name and the name of what you were picking up out loud, maybe even say it over a speaker like it was a frigging pep rally. (250)

21Denton’s lack of acknowledgement of his condition, to the extent that he does not even define it, is very much tied to his ego.

22This egotism and its associated ideas of masculinity seem very much fueled by Denton’s societal expectations as a man living in the Appalachian South. While Susie and her brothers are Floridians by birth, there is no indication that Denton has lived elsewhere, as the narrator notes that “[t]he first husband had problems with psoriasis. But he had at least gotten her [Susie] to North Carolina, where she and Denton met” (247). As a native Southerner and Appalachian, Denton would be exposed to the ideals and stereotypes surrounding the region. In particular, Trent Watts notes that Southern masculinity is steeped in the notion that “manhood must be learned through rites of initiation and passage, and must be lived and displayed to one’s peers and others in order to be fully realized” (2). This necessity for achieving the pinnacle of masculinity through rituals observed by others is clearly evidenced through Denton’s bear hunting attempt as well as by the fact that he invites Marlboro and Baroque along for the experience, though he plans to complete the hunt alone. With the brothers-in-law coming along, the hunt also takes on another quality that Zweig notes concerning adventure tales: “the flight from women” (61). According to Denton’s plan, not only will the boys be able to serve as lookouts, but they will also learn how to correctly perform Southern binary-conforming masculinity, something they cannot learn if they stay at home with their sister in front of the television. Denton even suggests self-awareness that his venture into the wilderness to obtain the bear’s “[p]aws and gallbladder” (250) is related to ideals of masculinity when he compares himself to “Daniel frigging Boone,” “way up in the woods with a pistol and knife and trap” (253). Daniel Boone, in this quote, serves to represent the epitome of manliness (at least from Denton’s perspective), as Boone was an eighteenth-century American frontiersman who was famous for discovering the Cumberland Gap that opened a pass through the Appalachian mountains for westward expansion; he is often portrayed with a firearm and wearing the furs of the non-human animals he trapped or hunted. The hunt, according to Adam Watts, enforces a sense of both self-reliance and camaraderie, insofar as the latter defines how “masculine values are preserved and passed on” and provides the means for “southern boys [to] become southern men” (87). The humor in this case, as clearly Denton the accountant is not nearly as competent an outdoorsman as Boone, serves to highlight the effect of Denton’s own ego on his myopic self-identity. Given the reason for Denton’s venture into the wilderness (that he otherwise avoids), it becomes apparent that Denton sees himself, perhaps subconsciously, as a boy hoping to (re)claim the manhood Watts evokes.

23In addition to sharing ritual initiations, Southern masculinity can also be signified through partaking in or performing stereotypical actions or ideologies held by those whom society deems “manly” or “masculine.” One such example of this performance appears through the dichotomies of the oppressor and the oppressed, briefly mentioned earlier in the discussion of ecofeminist analysis and “The Ascent.” By aligning himself with other males, such as Daniel Boone, as oppressors of women, the environment, and non-human animals, Denton is showing that “I am one of you.” Interestingly, Marlboro and Baroque do not align themselves with this position, thus Denton views them as inferior and less masculine than himself, often comparing the brothers with non-human animals and other organisms. When Marlboro asks him about hibernation he zoomorphizes the brothers by insinuating that they are no better than “dumb, lazy creatures [who] la[y] around for months doing nothing” (244). We can tell from Denton’s disgust toward his fellow mammals that his worldview is quite anthropocentric, certainly as a result of the toxic masculinity that has shaped this worldview.

25Denton’s view of human superiority is also evident in his admiration for the Chinese—which in fact verges on the construction of harmful stereotypes: “That was another thing the Chinese had going for them. They weren’t big on pets. Hell, they ate their pets, or what passed for pets over there” (252). His commentary is steeped in irony however, as Denton idolizes a stereotype while failing to see the stereotype of Southern masculinity that he embodies. Additionally, Denton has never (to the reader’s knowledge) killed any non-human animal before, including the ones he consumes. Denton’s wanton disregard for non-human animals seems linked to his disdain for the environment. Spores and mushrooms are mentioned with negative connotations throughout the text, especially in comparisons with males that Denton considers unworthy. One such example is in reference to Susie and the boys’ father, “a self-proclaimed ‘free spirit’ who’d drifted like a spore” (246-47). Another can be seen in his description of the brothers:

Being that close to his brothers-in-law made him feel like a fungus was starting to grow on him. They both had a moldy sort of smell, like mushrooms. Which was no surprise, since Baroque and Marlboro moved about as much as mushrooms. They never left the house, and got up from the couch only to eat or go to the bathroom. Hell, mushrooms probably did more than that. They actually grew. They were finding nutrients, some kind of work was going on down there in the soil. (246)

26Interestingly, the latter part of the quote shows that Denton does have some modicum of respect (however minute) for the work of mushrooms, much in the same way that he respects bears. However, this is not very encouraging, as Denton commodifies bears and views the natural world as a land to be conquered.

27Denton’s inability to conquer or make use of the natural world and its non-human inhabitants turns out to be inextricably linked to his views of success as a Southern, binary-conforming male. He discusses a high school science experiment involving fruit flies, in which his fly “crawled around on the glass for an hour and then died” (249) rather than surviving long enough for Denton to notice its eyes change color. Rather than processing the experience as an unfortunate loss, Denton is unusually bitter, feeling forsaken and slighted by the flies, and feels that his “D- on a major nine-week project” led to later, unrelated events: “He got no college-scholarship offers like Susie, and instead had to work his way through. The damn fruit flies had made sure of that” (249). It is this example of narcissism and refusal to take responsibility for his own actions that seems to conflict with the idea of “the Southern man” being someone who is accountable for himself, providing a darkly humorous irony throughout the story, as Denton’s egotism is literally what is keeping him from obtaining the masculine ideal he pursues to his death.

28This connection between Southern masculine responsibility and the attitude to the natural world is most apparent near the story’s conclusion, as the personal slight from the fruit fly is echoed by the empty bear trap: “there was no bear. The store-bought ham he’d hung from the limb was gone, the trap sprung. Denton looked closer, saw two silvery-brown nails and a few hairs. The bear had leaned over the trap as if reaching over a counter” (253). Instead of re-baiting the trap or trying to track the creature, Denton decides to “[s]crew it, . . . bear, medicine, and most of all, the brothers-in-law” (253). His projection of anger at Marlboro and Baroque derives from the fact that he sees them as the embodiments of his own failed masculinity. Ironically, however, they are the ones he calls to save him from hypothermia.

29Denton’s fate beneath the waterfall speaks to Rash’s fascination with water. In an interview with Joyce Compton Brown, Rash shares that water is, for him, “a very potent symbol” that represents “both death and resurrection” (28). He elaborates on this in an interview with Frédérique Spill: “Part of my ancestry is Welsh and in Welsh folklore water is seen as a conduit between the living and the dead” (184), offering a clue as to why water appears so frequently in his writing. Water serves as a liminal space between two worlds, a space that Denton experiences as “A Sort of Miracle” concludes. Much like Jared, Denton succumbs to the very environment he long tries to control—and only finds himself in such a state due to a combination of performed Southern masculinity and anthropocentrism.

30As he walks back the trail in the direction of the truck, Denton is lost in his imagination wondering how he will rid himself of his brothers-in-law. Because of his lack of attention, he trips on a root and tumbles off the trail, continuing to roll until he hits a stream, “ice shattering around him as he enter[s] the tailwater of a wide, long pool face-first” (254). Denton is able to call his brothers-in-law using his cell phone, which “by some kind of miracle . . . wasn’t dead” (254). The dark humor here is that the technology is faring better than Denton despite the fact that the device “had been totally immersed” (254). The use of the word “miracle” in connection to the cell phone also suggests that nothing of the sort is available for Denton, perhaps because he feels himself above the need for such interventions.

31After phoning the brothers-in-law and explaining his condition, the young men encourage him to return to the pool, correctly diagnosing that he is experiencing hypothermia, since Denton “realized that though his teeth chattered and icicles had formed in his hair he actually was, if not hot, at least warm” (255). In his return to the water, Denton is aware that his mind and body are slowing: “Breaking the ice to enter the pool seemed too much work, so Denton crawled onto the rocks above the waterfall and slid feetfirst into the pool, going in smooth as an otter” (255). This description of Denton’s final action as zoomorphic suggests that he has moved beyond his human limitations and onto a higher plane of existence, one inhabited by non-human animals and the wilderness, thus displaying their superiority over humanity instead of the typical western worldview entrenched in the ideas of patriarchy and colonization, and according to which man dominates earth.

32When Baroque and Marlboro eventually locate Denton’s body, embodying the adventure and care represented by Zweig’s notions of masculinity, another jab at Denton’s insecurities and egotism emerges in the form of a joke between the brothers. Marlboro spreads Denton’s legs to make carrying the corpse easier, observing that “‘[h]is being stiff does make it easier’” (256). The brothers then share their future plans—the type of plans Denton desired for them—even though they are barely able to operate his truck, let alone get Denton to a hospital. Denton’s goals, including a remedy to his impotence, are achieved only after his death, a nod toward the importance of ego death, but also a reminder to let nature take its course, rather than trusting in the ways of humanity.

•

33Zweig’s masculine notions of adventure and its necessity in performing a Southern masculine ideal are what lure both Denton and Jared into the landscape that dooms them. This desire for social power and acceptance, and the unfortunate consequences of chasing such desire, suggest that masculine performances are no match for the natural world in which we reside, and may also indicate that concepts of gender are simply “unnatural” in and of themselves, a discovery flying in the face of the carefully constructed images of the Southern man. Keeping this framework in mind might help better understand and analyze not only Rash’s work, but also other Southern and Appalachian adventure narratives as well.