The Honest Truth

Mark has many reasons to be angry, though as emotional turbulence comes and goes, Mark doesn’t always understand the logic behind its patterns. Mark’s anger surfaces just as fast as it recedes: “In a sudden gust, my sadness turned to cold anger” (178). Here, Gemeinhart again uses metaphor to reinforce Mark’s experience, comparing his emotional state to an abrupt weather change. He doesn’t fully understand what causes it, but he nonetheless rides its tide and makes heat-of-the-moment decisions. Mark later tells Jessie how “anger only makes sense when you’re stuck in the middle of it” (226), which accurately reflects his experience: At his core, Mark tends to empathize with others, but bursts of anger harden his heart. Even in the novel’s first scene, when Mark buys the misleading bus tickets, he describes how he “didn’t like how [his] words sounded more mean than strong” (7). After realizing he can accept others’ help without admitting failure, he finds that cooperating with the people who support him is more congruent with his nature, in which empathy triumphs over his own interests.

Mark shows a more objective perspective on anger when the emotion is not his own, even before the mountain epiphany. While Mark listens to Shelby’s story, he sympathizes with her situation even though he could argue that his own life is much worse, and he has every reason to indulge in projecting blame on the world. Mark misses his parents and feels guilty about hurting them, and he doesn’t want Shelby to make the same mistake while she still has time. He encourages her to set aside the anger toward her father because anger is fleeting, and the fickle feeling will pass. However, no one can take back lost time, and Mark is well acquainted with a ticking clock. He even writes her a haiku “about not being mad” (93) so that she also can remember who she is when emotion threatens to cloud her judgment.

Though Mark doesn’t make his best decisions in anger, it is not portrayed as purely evil. Mark’s journey does not prove vain, even though he makes impetuous and highly consequential decisions. Mark possesses righteous anger against injustice, and he’s determined to find answers—if not solutions—for his pain. The mountain is the first figure to represent anger with non-negative connotations: “Mount Rainier is an awesome mountain. It is fierce and it is proud. It is almost angry against the sky” (212). Mark’s mountainside epiphany occurs when the clouds part to reveal the landmark he traveled so far to see. Looking at the mountain, he sees attributes he desires for himself—fierceness and pride—as well as the passion he already possesses. The mountain’s anger is defiant, rising to touch the sky despite all odds. Mark has plenty of reasons to be angry, but he no longer wants to direct that anger toward other people who, in large part, want to help and support his journey. Instead, Mark can control his rage in defiance of the odds, and his determination can help him achieve a life fully lived.

Mark struggles to comprehend a purpose behind living and dying when so much of his experience is wrapped up in pain: “Here’s what I don’t get: why everyone makes such a big deal out of dying. Dying and living. It’s all such a mess. That’s the truth. It made me mad. A sad kind of angry” (97). Since age five, a team of people has tried to prevent Mark from dying, but the living part doesn’t feel much less miserable to him. As revealed during the first “dogs die” conversation, he fears dying, and he feels hopeless at the inevitability of death. Even Beau—a truly good dog—will die one day, and he wonders what the purpose of life is if everyone and everything dies eventually. His mom thinks a moment before thoughtfully responding, “Dogs die. But dogs live, too. Right up until they die, they live. They live brave, beautiful lives. They protect their families. And love us. And make our lives a little brighter. And they don’t waste time being afraid of tomorrow” (99). Mark doesn’t totally disagree with his mom’s response, but he doesn’t understand exactly how that wisdom can apply to his own situation. Readers witness Mark still clinging to the “dogs die” refutation again with Wesley, whose advice is strikingly similar to his mom’s.

Mark indeed tries to execute his mom’s advice pragmatically when he decides to climb a mountain—he tries to create a “brave, beautiful life” in his own way (99)—though the true catalyst is Mark’s final conversation with his grandfather. Mark tells Wesley:

But just when I got better, [my grandfather] got sick. His kidneys. And he never got better. [...] He was like this big, strong hero, and he just kind of faded away. For months, lying there in the hospital, just getting smaller and grayer and weaker, hooked up to all those tubes. It was like…It was like looking at myself. Seeing my future. You know what his last words were to me? [...] He said, the day before he died, 'I never wanted to die like this.' And he made me promise. Promise I’d climb Rainier for him. [...] Course, he didn’t know I was gonna get sick again. But a promise is a promise (160).

Mark desperately wants his life to have a purpose, though he doesn’t know his particular purpose even during the journey. His grandfather told him to pursue a big adventure, not let life pass by before experiencing what it can offer. His mission fights against a death like his grandfather’s, but he doesn’t understand yet what he lives for. The experience alone doesn’t bring Mark happiness or clarity; in fact, he spends most of the novel feeling angry, sad, and lonely. Fortunately, Mark’s adventure is not vain, though he surprisingly realizes that he must backtrack to embrace life’s true meaning: “…and I took a step forward. No, not forward. A step backward. A step down the mountain. A step toward home” (213). The experience Mark pursues does not provide the fulfillment he sought, but it does demonstrate how he doesn’t have to fight every battle alone. Mark discovers the real purpose for living is to love, be loved, and value the relationships around him. Mark finally concludes, “Dogs die, maybe. But friendship doesn’t. Not if you don’t let it” (224). He still acknowledges death’s inevitability, but if anything, death gives life more meaning. If he doesn’t know how much time he has left, he wants to make every moment matter and count each joy as a blessing.