nature

Red Willow People

mandy — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Imagine evening as a woman, wind as a friend, and every part of nature as an organ in the human body. You have now entered the landscape of Devreaux Baker’s newest collection of poetry, Red Willow People. The colors are red, white, yellow and the green shade of clay. The light is supplied by lines from poetry by Federico Garcia Lorca. The smell is sage, cedar, and pinyon pine. These poems are the story of a region, specifically Taos and the Southwestern area of the United States. They are also the story of a people, all the different clans of the Navajo (Dine’). The collection captures the essence of both the region and the people while exploring the universal themes of transformation and rebirth.

“Change wants to work her mantra into each being’s heart,” Baker notes in the poem “The Nest,” one of my favorite poems in the book. Baker describes trees as lungs, rocks as bones, and rivers as veins in the beginning of the poem. As the poem continues we see life examined through the lens of middle age, the change an individual body goes through, and at the same time the change nature goes through as Baker’s neighbor cuts down 100-year-old trees so the leaves won’t fall on his house.

These kinds of observations can be seen throughout many of the poems, full of the small and big mishandling that humans do to nature. Observations of birth and rebirth are also throughout many of the poems. At the end of “The Nest,” Baker’s calves and thighs become a nest for a little baby bird that the mother bird drops into her lap. It reminded me that even as we age and even through all the changes of this earth, there is constantly new life beginning again. And we can protect that life.

The books starts with the series of poems about the Spider Woman, a part of the Dine’ creation story who also teaches the people about weaving. It ends with a poem about coming home, a journey that took many lifetimes... “about burning all the way back to ash and then it was about becoming water, that simple.” That encapsulates this collection. Beautiful images of nature and the Southwestern landscape fuel the simple story of birth and rebirth. I always want to know what the relationship of the writer is with indigenous nations they are writing about, so I was curious about how Baker created her work which relied heavily on Dine’ myth and culture. I believe it’s literary territory that needs to be respected in a serious way, especially if you aren’t from that group of people. I think she told her story honestly in Red Willow People and showed respect for a culture that clearly inspired her greatly.

Written by: Maleka Fruean, January 25th 2011

Crow Mercies

caitlin — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Penelope Scambly Schott

Calyx Books

When picking up a new poetry collection, I give it an initial read and then sit with it a while, thinking about whether any particular poems or lines stuck in my mind, or whether I had any specific feelings while reading. Sometimes I draw a big blank, which usually means that particular collection doesn't merit another read. Collections like Crow Mercies are different. Even during my first reading of this collection, I found myself stopping to reread poems again out of excitement. This is certainly the kind of book that ends up a permanent fixture on my bookshelf that I come back to again and again.

Penelope Scambly Schott is a former English literature professor living in Portland, Oregon, and Crow Mercies, her fifth poetry collection, won the Sarah Lantz Memorial Poetry Book Prize. Schott has also published three poetry narratives and five chapbooks. She identifies as a feminist poet, and this collection aims to create a forum for women writers who might not otherwise be heard.

Schott's poems seem to inhabit the realms of female roles and experiences: wife, mother, daughter. In my favorite poem in this collection, "The US Air Force Admits it May Have Bombed Civilians in Afghanistan," Schott uses the connection between mothers and their children to explore the contrast between people living in daily fear of being killed in Afghanistan and those in the United States who are relatively safe and secure. Never hitting you over the head with the points it makes, the poem left me choked up.

The poems in Crow Mercies often speak about relationships, running the gamut from grandparents to children to siblings. Family relationships and complexities are something most everyone can relate to, so I felt it brought a real accessibility to her work.

I am generally not moved by poets who write of the aesthetic of nature with no deeper meaning. Yet, Schott utilizes strong natural imagery and metaphor very heavily throughout the collection. She does so beautifully; her images, rich with meaning, carry the words along. Bears, orchids, roses, reeds, the wind, and the ocean all become crucial to the poems, evoking strong emotion.

One skill Schott has mastered is the zinger, the end line that packs a punch and leaves you thinking about a poem long after you've finished reading it. This is exactly how I would describe all of Crow Mercies. I was impressed and thrilled to find such a treasured zinger of a poetry collection.

Written by: Lesley Kartali, October 21st 2010

Toxic Flora: Poems

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 20:30:00 +0000

By Kimiko Hahn

W.W. Norton

An extraordinary selection of poetry by Kimiko Hahn, Toxic Flora beautifies the ugliness of the scientific life and the elements of being human through poetry. Extending from the common small animals of the world to outer space, Hahn delivers a speckling of her work with both clever brevity and clarity. Projecting moments grasped from the New York Times, Hahn elaborates only the slightest amount necessary in her poetry, leaving the reader to ponder and to possibly wonder about the natural world and the human place in it.

Daily situations are approached from a poetic and often non-human aspect to bring feelings of the world beyond humanness. Prose poetry escapes definition in Hahn's description of wildlife that possess unknown talents and survival skills humans may understand when reading her poetry. To strike the reader, she sometimes utilizes italics to emphasize scientific horrors—irreversible human impacts. Sometimes humorous, but always thoroughly specific, Hahn's poetry possesses powers of imagination to reality. She expresses her yearnings while demonstrating her angst in asking questions throughout each piece while each piece connects and completes the collection. Her allusions to nature's subjection to pollution and a sullied environment again point out obvious human error.

Beyond her connections to nature, Hahn elaborates on the relationships of people to people, specifically father to daughter, lover to lover and mother to daughter. These human aspects help to signify the connections of all living organisms in the collection. Inserting herself into the poetry, Hahn brings relationships to herself. She alludes to her truths, her ways. Colorful and active, the poetry never leaves the side of the human living regardless of the role each human plays. Myths may exist, but Hahn again connects science to myth, deciphering bits of science for the reader.

Written by: Carolyn Espe, July 19th 2010

A Little Middle of the Night

admin — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Molly Brodak

University of Iowa Press

Molly Brodak’s poetry collection A Little Middle of the Night is wide in its range: big dog topics like perceptions of art and the weight of tragedy are sifted through by a careful and talented poet. These poems tell the story of how "we stopped making up stories of how our horror was salvation/ and just lived it."

Brodak's poetry is "turning under and under every buried thing." The reader is expected to follow suit, to keep up, and do the work necessary to access and engage with the poems. Broadak says it herself in "The First Poem." The first line tells the reader to "get up" and the closing lines explain that "the first poem" never did "ask you to sit."

If there's one criticism that could be latched to this collection, it is that the poems are not immediately accessible. Then again, the purpose of poetry is not so much obvious meanings, but what poets can line in their pockets, sleeves, and grinning lyrics. Brodak's poetry is about the act of discovery. For example, in the final poem, "Real World Magic," both the speaker and the reader sense themselves "formless in force, disarmed by a little sun, waking." We may think we are awake, but these poems take new stabs at age-old mysteries and ideas.

Dream, the space of darkness, and the relationship between nature and art are all examined. Like a child experimenting with blocks, Brodak is happy to manipulate and experiment with the abstract and concrete entities, as well as the space between such ideas. The joy of these poems is that they do not always rest on an answer but rather to the joy of the problem, vision, or idea explored. The poems are like a wheel: there are many spokes of meanings. To read her, you must climb without searching for an exact point. To cling to such hope, would cause you to miss the surrounding scenery as well as the blood, sweat, and tears of the journey. There are many nooks, crannies, and possibilities in these poems if you only make the effort to look.

Written by: Lisa Bower, July 18th 2010

Unbounded Practice: Women and Landscape Architecture in the Early Twentieth Century

admin — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 16:02:00 +0000

By Thaisa Way

University of Virginia Press

Female hands are all over America's landscape; you just need to know where to look for them. In Unbounded Practice, author Thaisa Way can direct your eye.

Look to the Memorial Quadrangle at Yale, the grounds of Princeton, or a number of botanical gardens and astronomical observatories to see the legacy of Beatrix Jones Farrand (1872-1959). Recall a youthful American pilgrimage to Disneyland—if you are among the number who has made one—to know the work of Ruth Shellhorn (1909-2005). Stroll past any working or middle-class apartment complex designed with a central, neatly-gardened courtyard to see the lasting influence of Marjorie Sewell Cautley (1891-1954), who designed such courtyards with the needs of family members—particularly mothers—in mind; not only can natural beauty be observed from every dwelling, but so can children at play.

Way's concern in Unbounded Practice is not just that significant contributions to landscape architecture have been made by women, but that these contributions have been largely forgotten by current practitioners and require a restorative historical account. An irony that emerges in Way's recounting of women's contribution to the formation of the discipline—critical in its early stages—is that the public conceptions of womanhood were both an inlet for women to practice the discipline and an impetus for them to be disassociated from it. At the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, pursuits associated with horticulture, such as gardening and botany, were considered appropriate for the sex viewed as intrinsically closer to the earth than its masculine counterpart. This allowed women to enter the discipline with minimal, or no public rebuke, pursuing architectural approaches to design as well as employing acquired botanical knowledge often superior to that of their male peers. As landscape architecture moved towards an alignment with architecture at the expense of being associated with the "craft" of gardening, women were marginalized in the discipline.

Way's history is both a history of women and a history of the formation of a discipline—the key of the book's strength—and her passion as a scholar is evident in the pains she takes in detailing both. A lay reader, or perhaps even a beginning student, may benefit from reading Way's conclusion before embarking on the book proper. There, Way's passion is evident in tone as well as content, and the relatively brief reflection on a hefty scholarly endeavor reads as an accessible orientation to the modern challenges the discipline has faced.

Ten color plates are featured in the book, as well as a wealth of illuminating photographs of work by women pioneering practitioners, slides from lectures delivered by women, period advertisements, and—thrillingly—meticulous plans and client sketches drafted by the women Way profiles. While Unbounded Practice could easily be sourced for perspective on American history, women's history, class structure, ecology, urban studies, fine arts, architecture, and education, one can't help but imagine Way writing this book thinking of the reader who would crack the spine at one such architectural-botanical plan, magnifying glass in hand, connecting back to one of the women who would draft herself a practice.

Written by: Kaja Katamay, July 9th 2010

Lady of the Butterflies

admin — Wed, 23 Jun 2010 07:59:00 +0000

By Fiona Mountain

G.P. Putnam’s Sons

One reason I gravitate towards historical fiction is that I enjoy discovering individuals in history whom I normally wouldn’t learn about on my own. Eleanor Glanville was a seventeenth century English entomologist from Somerset. Her specialty was butterflies and some of her collections still live in the Natural History Museum today. Though Glanville’s work is several centuries old, Fiona Mountain brings Glanville’s contributions and character to life in Lady of the Butterflies.

As a child, Glanville grew up under the strict guidance of her Puritan father who forbade her to participate in Christmas or other Catholic celebrations. At the same time, this father also encouraged her to embrace and understand her environment at Tickenham Court, which was located in the middle of a moor. Eleanor’s passionate interest in insects, specifically butterflies, started at a young age but was seen as abnormal behavior among her neighbors and servants. In the late seventeenth century, education for women was not encouraged or looked upon kindly.

In her early twenties, Eleanor married Edmund Ashfield whom she loved dearly, and bore him two children. However, she had a rather unhealthy desire and longing for his closest friend, Richard Glanville, who was a dashing but extremely moody young man. There are sections of the book that are reminiscent of a romance novel, especially in the descriptions of Eleanor and Richard’s interactions. Fiona Mountain wants the reader to know that this was a fiercely passionate woman whether it be toward the men she loved, her butterflies, or her children.

What I found the most interesting about Glanville was her love of nature and learning and her ability to win the respect and admiration of male scientists, young and old. Many naturalists of that time were interested in her quest to understand the metamorphism of the butterfly and were quick to support her discoveries.

While reading this book, there was always a touch of apprehension. Glanville was sometimes on the edge of danger because many of her neighbors, servants, and acquaintances accused her of being insane. After all, what self-respecting woman would run chasing butterflies with her hair down when she had responsibilities at home? This was also during the period of the witch hunts, in which a woman caught interacting with nature might likely be accused of cavorting with the devil.

Lady of the Butterflies was an illuminating read about a fascinating woman. The Glanville Fritillary butterfly was named after Glanville, and I must admit that I have developed a renewed interest in those painted winged beauties.

Written by: Su Lin Mangan, June 23rd 2010

Where I Live: New & Selected Poems 1990-2010

admin — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Maxine Kumin

W.W. Norton

It’s truly a shame that poetry is so often thought of as inaccessible, hopelessly and purposefully snarled with obscurity and flabby with rococo intellectualism. Great poetry should work on many levels, and thus appeal to a wide audience from those who appreciate it for its pure beauty and those that delight the complexity of further analysis. Maxine Kumin is a poet whose entire oeuvre is rooted in what she knows: her farm in New Hampshire, where she works in the ground, keeps horses. Her poetry is the dirt, it is the food scrap, it is the snort of horses, but she makes these mundane details peal out their secret beauty; she makes them transcendental.

Where I Live is a collection of poems that spans two decades of the poet’s illustrious career, which includes a Pulitzer Prize, a stint as Poet Laureate of the United States and countless other honors. The collection allows a reader to follow along with the contours of Kumin’s life. As with any life, there are personal and cultural landmarks, some common and others not so: marriage, giving birth, creating a home, a broken neck suffered by falling from a horse at age seventy-three, the death of a close friend, Anne Sexton. All are contemplated with a true, ringing voice and simple grace.

More interestingly, though, are those elements held constant. Kumin’s love for nature and animals alternately stings and sings. The reader can also feel her all-consuming vitriol for those who mistreat land and beast alike:

Damn all of you with dumpsters.
Damn all who do not compost.
Damn all who tie their dogs out
on bare ground, without water.
Damn all who debeak chickens
and all who eat them, damn
CEOs with bonuses, corporate jets, trophy wives.

Her poems of celebration are absolutely reverent: in an ode to her garden plants, she writes, “O children, citizens, my wayward jungly dears/you are all to be celebrated/plucked, transplanted, tilled under, resurrected here […] For all of you, whether eaten or extirpated/I plan to spend the rest of my life on my knees.”

It is from this celebratory spirit that she approaches her craft, too, referencing and playing with other poets, taunting and engaging them in her own verse. Her belief in the healing and cleansing power of composting and mucking out and gardening easily becomes a metaphor for her own work as a poet. Her exhilaration for both nature and language sustain one another; in fact, they feed one another, and Kumin, in her eighties, has much fertile land left to till.

Written by: Jo Ristow, March 19th 2010

Unmentionables

admin — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 08:50:00 +0000

By Beth Ann Fennelly

W.W. Norton

Unmentionables is a striking collection of bold, in-your-face poetry that covers a variety of subjects using a type of broken-up and eclectic writing style. I found the poetry somewhat confusing, and though they focused on ordinary topics, like animals and nature, It was challenging to discern what they were all about. There were a couple of poems that caught my interest, however.

“The Souvenir” seemed more loving, real, and down to earth then many of the other poems because the storyline was clear. This poem is about a couple taking a trip on a train. It tells of how the couple feels about what they encounter on their journey. They come across as newlyweds who want to stay together forever; however, they can’t seem to find any sanctuary from other people. The poem describes the people they see, the atmosphere on the train, and how they cuddle up together as they travel to their destination. I was able to understand what the couple was feeling because the sentiment is safe and familiar.

Another poem that struck me is “Because People Ask What My Daughter Will Think of My Poems When She’s 16.” As a writer and mother, I could relate to this poem, as I have a teenage son and the author's feelings are familiar: sadness when your child no longer needs you, the contempt and rebellion that radiates from them. I have felt similarly while trying to understand and raise my son.

The “Kudzu Chronicles Number 6” is another enjoyable entry. This poem talks about the longing for a lost mother. It is emotionally touching and evokes stunning images and loving thoughts through the use of death, weather, and nature. I can relate to this poem on several levels. People have a weird connection with death, but also fear it in many regards. The imagery of nature is soothing and brings reality to the piece.

The poems in Unmentionables offer different stories from the author’s soul. Many of her poems are bold, daring, and detailed. Despite my confusion, I was able to find work in this collection I could relate to, and that is a sign of a good writer!

Written by: Amber Whitman-Currier, January 2nd 2010

Apple Geranium Leaf Pendant

admin — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 11:26:00 +0000

By RikiCraft

A lot of people have brilliant discoveries after coming to New York City. In a place where the world collides, it's easy to understand why hoards of tourists walk around slack-jawed and eyes glazed wearing their wonder on their sleeve while snapping photo after photo of cobblestone streets turning into fish markets turning into ultra-modern glass and steel as far as the eye can see. As a small town Georgia girl cum ATLien cum Brooklynite (Bed-Stuy not Billyburg), there was one thing I was most shocked by upon moving to the Big City: seasons.

Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall: what were these crazy shifts in temperature and environment about? In Georgia we have two seasons: hot and hotter. So the first time I was subjected to a snow-filled nor'easter and a pile of colorful autumn leaves, I memorialized it all on film. RikiCraft takes this love of nature one step further: the Japanese designer memorializes fallen leaves by making them into wearable works of art.

Here's how the transformation happens: a leaf springs from a tree (in this case an apple geranium tree) in Riki's family garden and she collects it, enjoying the smell it emits while gathering the other necessary materials to begin the conversion. Next, Riki uses a silver paste to paint the backside of the leaf with painstaking care to avoid structural damage. After the paste dries, the leaf is flipped and the other side is painted. Paint and Dry. Paint and Dry. Twenty times altogether until the one-of-a-kind pendant is ready for the kiln. When it emerges, Riki gently polishes the tiny leaf, attaches it to a silver chain, and lovingly places the delicate finished piece alongside a polishing cloth on a bed of tissue paper inside a starkly white, rectangular box, which is finally tied closed with a single red string.

The Apple Geranium Leaf Pendant is meticulous beauty handcrafted by an artist whose adoration of the outdoors and love for the jewelry-making craft is apparent. Until I can get back to a geographic locale where seasonal isn't simply theoretical posturing, I wear this necklace to remind myself of the place in which I long to be.

Written by: Mandy Van Deven, November 13th 2009

Micrographia

admin — Wed, 27 May 2009 23:21:00 +0000

By Emily Wilson

University of Iowa Press

Monadnock. Ochers. Moraine. These are some of the terms you’ll find while reading Emily Wilson’s Micrographia. You will find yourself consulting Webster’s a lot. Unless, of course, you know a great deal about isolated rock hills and unconsolidated glacial debris. Heading spinning yet? If so, Wilson’s book of poetry is not for you.

While Wilson exhibits immense talent in selecting words that sound wonderfully together—“like ships squat-sparred” and “kelp closes up”—many of the words themselves are very scientific. This limits the scale of readers who can relate to her work. If you know little about earth science, nature and flora, you will find yourself in a strange new land that may be frustrating.

One critic describes Wilson’s work as “a speech whose power lies in its admitting to being ‘sort of true, sort of torturous.’” This sums up exactly how I felt reading Micrographia. While phrases like “more rose than rubiate” and “in the form of a forest of tulip trees” drew me into the poems and left me wanting more, I stumbled painfully over awkward phrases like “jouvence blue” and “rouge-wedged bogs.” There were just too many word couplings that felt obnoxiously ostentatious.

With this in mind, I must note that Wilson gained inspiration for her work from Robert Hooke’s own Micrographia, in which observations he made through the lens of his microscope. Wilson utilizes Hooke’s same painstaking observation to write about the world. And, it causes a sense of disconnect and frustration for an individual with a non-science background or little interest in the subject. However, those who thoroughly enjoy the intricacies of science, will admire Wilson’s ability to craft poetry reminiscent of Hooke’s remarkable observations.

Written by: Michelle Tooker, May 27th 2009

Roaming Kyrgyzstan: Beyond the Tourist Track

admin — Tue, 05 May 2009 23:54:00 +0000

By Jessica Jacobson

iUniverse

As American foreign travel is concerned, we are more likely to head to Cancun for spring break, or across the border in Canada for some duty-free shopping—not to Kyrgyzstan. The 2008 guidebook Roaming Kyrgyzstan: Beyond the Tourist Track by Jessica Jacobson (an American scholar who lived, worked, and traveled in Kyrgyzstan for two and a half years) sheds light on a place that many would consider far beyond the beaten path. The guidebook contains all of the information you would expect from a guidebook: where to eat, what to eat, where to sleep, prices, where to get a cab ride, and how much it should cost. Expect some anecdotes about Kyrgyz culture, but don’t consider it a substitute for an official history.

In my opinion, the key to a good guidebook is good organization, and this book could use more organizational clarity. The Table of Contents is broken down into into regions and “areas,” but I could not determine the difference between a region and an area, if regions were parts of areas (there are only two areas compared to nine regions), and what this distinction means for travelers. After the contents, introduction, map, and a brief history, the book opens with “Travel Essentials,” or everything you need to know about visas, air travel, train travel, what to bring, communications, publications, and more.

“Words You May Hear” (under “Travel Essentials”) seems useful at first, but actually contains only three words. A glossary of terms would be a welcome addition. Details about the cities and towns highlighted under the regions seem especially useful; they are broken down into dining and lodging options (ranging from upscale to should probably avoid), phone numbers, people to talk to, attractions, and websites where available.

Some of the entries, such as local restaurants, are “starred” with two asterisks, meaning they are especially recommended by the author. But if you don’t catch that brief note in the introduction, you’ll be scratching your head the entire book as I was about what those asterisks are supposed to indicate. There aren’t many photos in the book, and where there are images it would have been nice if they had captions. With so much information spanning geographic areas in a single page spread, it isn’t clear which image corresponds to what place. Should the book be reprinted, I would also suggest including a key and an image list.

Based on this book and Jacobson’s travels—do I want to visit Kyrgystan? Absolutely. The strongest impression I received is that Kyrgyzstan is “a nature-lover’s dream,” to quote Jacobson. Although the tourism industry is still in the process of being developed (with positive results), the country can be described as being well-suited and hospitable to backpacking, hiking, skiing (on virtually deserted slopes!), nature photography, horseback riding, camping, visiting or living in yurts, and numerous mineral and hot springs/spas and sanatoriums. Everywhere there seems to be a guest house (or yurt) with someone willing to show a foreigner around, and Jacobson never mentions encountering problems being an American woman on her own in Kyrgyzstan. The activities Jacobson participates in aren’t the typical tourist activities; they include long (and difficult) hikes and local festivals. Yet for those who want a shopping mall, she tells you where to find one. Roaming Kyrgyzstan is well-suited to assist the adventurous DIY traveler. Jacobson promises that if you don’t mind going over some bumpy roads in a noisy dust-filled car, the dynamic vistas of Kyrgyzstan will be breathtaking and like none other on the planet.

Written by: Lillian B., May 5th 2009

Reading Novalis in Montana

admin — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 00:20:00 +0000

By Melissa Kwasney

Milkweed Editions

Reading Novalis in Montana is a collection of poems by Melissa Kwasny that focuses on connections between the natural world, spirituality, and modern life. The title of the collection rightfully implicates nature and Novalis as the inspiration behind the poems. Novalis, a late eighteenth century poet and writer of Early German Romanticism, focused much his work on the belief in harmony between humans and nature, or the inner and outer worlds.

Spirituality in nature is a strong theme throughout the book. Kwasny’s respect for the outside world is obvious; the poet treats each living thing as an individual existing within its own world. In "Mule Deer," she views the deer, birds, and fish as cartographers drawing lines to suit their own needs. It is a truly refreshing view. Instead of simply coexisting, the poet reflects on what it feels like to live with these different worlds and learn from them.

It is this deep connection to the natural world that leads the poet to introspective questioning of life’s purpose. In the opening title poem, "Reading Novalis in Montana," Kwasny writes: "If, as the gnostics say, the world was a mistake/ created by an evil demiurge, and am I trapped/ in my body, abandoned by a god whom I long for as one of my own,/ why not follow the tundra geese into their storm?"

In the next poem, "Redpolls," she wonders, "What is it that I was supposed to learn?" In "Lepidoptera," she decides that "one reads the world the best one can," but still questions the purpose of her surroundings. She quotes Novalis in the opening poem, writing that "all we experience is a message." While this sounds like a comforting guideline to live by, Kwasny demonstrates it can also be maddening, only leading one to more questions without answers.

There are very few people who claim to have the world figured out. Trying to do so is the lost art Kwasny internally struggles with in her poetry. In "Is It Oblivion or Absorption When Things Pass from Our Minds?" Kwasny talks about "the throwaway life" many humans beings lead.

Trying to find answers to questions of our purpose in the world is exhausting. Most just give up and lead the lives they think they have been given. Thankfully Reading Novalis in Montana never stops asking questions or trying to find answers, reminding the reader there is more to life than one settles for or often cares to know.

Written by: Jill Hindenach, March 2nd 2009

Findings: Essays on the Natural and Unnatural World

admin — Sat, 28 Jul 2007 19:11:00 +0000

By Kathleen Jamie

Graywolf Press

Jamie writes with sobriety, sensitivity and grace about the natural world and our human place within it. Her book is sparsely illustrated with delicate black-and-white photographs that picture many of her topics. She chronicles visits to places ranging from her own backyard to the Orkney Islands to Edinburgh and beyond, with a marked preference for those wilder spots where the human imprint may still be seen, but nature prevails.

In the Central Highlands she explores a glen scattered with “abandoned shielings,” small stone huts used by villagers for thousands of years as summer homes while they pastured their cattle on the fresh upland grass, and she reflects on a by-gone way of life. “Up here they made milk, butter and cheese, and it was women’s work. What a loss that seems now: a time when women were guaranteed a place in the wider landscape, our own place in the hills.” Living on and with the land is important to her; she pays attention to the seasons, the birds and fish, the trees and other plants, going about in all kinds of weather, walking, biking or sailing. At times she is with her children or friends; often she is alone. Always she strives to be alert, to catch that moment of revelation, “to glance up from my own everyday business, to see the osprey or the peregrine going about hers.”

The book opens with a chapter called “Darkness and Light” about the winter solstice, magical scenes of the half light of northern Scotland, her own desire “to enter into the dark for the love of its textures and wild intimacy,” and her pilgrimage to Maes Howe, a Neolithic stone cairn built with a long passageway arranged so that each evening, for a few days around the solstice, a ray from the setting midwinter sun shines through to light the chambered vault, like a promise, like a kiss. Nearly a dozen chapters later Jamie’s book closes with a joyous dolphin sighting off the coast of Tobermory, a celebration of life. Along the way she helps us see the value and vulnerability of an ancient, yet ever new, world now threatened by contemporary technology and human carelessness.

Buy this book, read it, scribble down lines you want to share with others, talk about them, reflect on them, enjoy a renewed connection with nature as well as a heightened awareness of our need to protect it.

Written by: Kittye Delle Robbins-Herring, July 28th 2007

Let's Get Primitive: The Urban Girl’s Guide to Camping

admin — Mon, 11 Jun 2007 17:04:00 +0000

By Heather Menicucci

Ten Speed Press

If you’ve always wanted to go camping, but have been overwhelmed by the prospect of choosing a sleeping bag, securing permits, packing supplies and keeping clean in the wild then you’re in luck! This little book is all you’ll need to get out of the city and into the great outdoors. Heather Menicucci explores all aspects of camping, from gear and games to toilets and tents. Her detailed instructions and personal insights will help you to build the confidence and know-how you need in order to have an enjoyable outdoor experience.

This book contains something for everyone; even seasoned campers will find new tips and tricks. Try the pattern for a daypack made of old jeans, or sample the Hot Sweet Whiskey Beans recipe. A significant emphasis is placed on getting along with pals while camping; the author provides tips on how to deal with cranky camp-mates and gives plenty of suggestions on how to keep busy together, such as games like competitive comics or (depending on who you’re with) getting frisky in the tent! Menicucci’s writing is readable and smart, making this book fun and very informative. In addition, it’s the perfect size to stash in your backpack when you do go camping. Whether you choose to head out for a day hike or a week-long backcountry adventure, you’ll be glad you read this book!

Written by: Amanda Moss, June 11th 2007

Awake in the Wild: Mindfulness in Nature as a Path of Self-Discovery

admin — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 12:58:00 +0000

By Mark Coleman

Inner Ocean Publishing

"The teachings and practices of this book will come alive only if you leave the comfort of your home and explore the natural world, which is always beckoning, just outside your front door." I read this first chapter of Mark Coleman's Awake in the Wild with a chuckle as I release my clutching grasp on the sticky New York City subway pole to turn the page of his book of Buddhist meditations. Sweaty bodies press against me as I struggle to be present in the moment and find my centered breath. Full disclosure: I have never meditated, never read a book on Buddhism, never traveled to India. My only Eastern spiritual experiences have been in yoga classes in Brooklyn where I usually leave early to rush to work on time.

So it is with particular sincerity that I recommend Coleman's book. I found that halfway through his organized musings on the importance of nature in our lives, I was pausing in the street to watch the sun set between the Manhattan skyscrapers and touching the bark of trees along the sidewalk to feel the energy emanating from the trunk. This book is an easy-to-follow, illuminating and inspiring guide to not just enjoy nature, but to really understand the necessity of finding the time to go outside. The meditations are simply outlined and definitely accessible to the first-timers as well as more seasoned Buddhist practitioners. Each section suggests different and unique ways of engaging with the natural world and includes specific actions and meditations to practice on your own whether you live on a foggy mountaintop or in a concrete metropolis.

Before I write too much more about my discovery of my inner wood nymph, I do admit that there were still quite a few eye rolls as I read about how watching a flock of geese or staring into rippling water can make your troubles gallop away. But after relishing the final pages, I am left with a new appreciation and respect for the power and beauty of the natural world and also a lingering sadness at the rate in which we are moving away from relationships with the wild and more towards virtual ones. Coleman will inspire you to flip shut your laptop's floating cloud screensaver, and go outside to breath in the real thing.

Written by: Dana Edell, June 2nd 2007