Is there a commonality in nature writing, which lumps these diverse authors into this loose genre? The commonality among these individuals is that they are all writers, and it ends there. The varieties of landscapes from which they write help mold the stories that distinguishe them, just as ecosystems are defined by species richness. The places involved in the “Current Readings” are distinctive to each region, and the only similarity found here is that they all take place on Earth. So it is through the use of a specific characteristic of earth, the place, which allows each book to stand out. The same story would not exist without using the same place. If they changed the place, then the story would be changed. Each author’s craft makes this commonality shine true.
Solnit’s Field Guide to Getting Lost took us through urban decay, desert love and even along the historic journey of Cabeza de Vaca. She explores the vast scope of the earth and the human dilemma of “getting lost.” She raises questions about the range of definitions for lost, from losing friends who lost their lives, to losing actual species. Solnit is using literature to fight against the ignorance that contributes to the environmental degradation. For Solnit, the use of wilderness functions as a teacher, a keeper of wisdom where only dedicated students can learn the lessons of life. She uses the butterfly to symbolize the beauty of life, and death, without seeming sappy. She presents a natural affection to the butterfly, and awakens her readers to pay attention to the subtle mysterious glories of nature.
Duncan’s The River Why places us within the Oregon woods, where fish become characters, and rivers are an investment. He emphasizes a life that revolves around the flowing river and abundant life that is found within the water. Gus becomes an advocate for responsible stewardship regarding the delicate riparian zones.
Moon’s Prairy Erth focuses on a single county located in the tall-grass prairie of Kansas. Wilderness, for Moon, serves as a silent repository of history. If the river speaks of floods, the soil and flora swear to fire. He also alludes to the ancestral link between humans and the tall-grass, for how could we ever be separated? His deep map peels layers back from an otherwise plain terrain. The prairie grasses are the keystone subject of the plains, and he opens them under microscope. He stops in a place that most people would prefer to just pass through.
In Where Rivers Change Directions, Spragg remembers his childhood home in Wyoming, where this rugged mountain state, introduces a touching literary memoir. The wilderness is home for his family and the dangers of bears alive and real. The need to skin an elk becomes a matter of survival. Wilderness is his office; his work environment is one with the elements. The horse is to Spragg is what the car is to a cab driver. The animal makes the work outside bearable, and provides the transportation through an otherwise impossible attraction to the tourists.
McPhee’s The Survival of the Birch Canoe, captures a canoeing saga along lakes of the historic northeast. The trees there are alive with purpose and not just there for good looks. Henri, the canoe building artist sees them for their building potential. But they are not only on the lookout for trees. The group is hoping to see an elk, but fail to find one. This failure doesn’t take away from the journey. Just as any hike into nature is heightened by the sight of wildlife, even the tracks or scat marks remind the traveler of their primal presence. Wilderness for McPhee and his company ends up being a testing ground for patience and comfort zones.
In essence, nature speaks for itself, writers just write it down. There is something beautiful and pure about the natural world, and it often serves as a source of healing for the traumatized. What a heavenly inspiration to have, what a heavenly place to call home. After reading these books, I found that each place became an extension of my own heaven, able to explore thanks to the acute vision of the authors.
Matthew McEwen
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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