Category Archives: books

Writing About Geology: Poetry and Prose

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Book I of John McPhee’s epic geological history Annals of the Former World ends with the rise of the plate tectonics theory in the 1950s and 1960s. Led by Harry Hess, a mineralogist who used his time on an attack transport in World War II to map the ocean floor with a new tool called a Fathometer. One feature he saw, according to McPhee, “were dead volcanoes, spread out around the Pacific bottom like Hershey’s Kisses on a tray” (p. 127). It’s images like this that make Annals so accessible and even a little fun.

As the ocean mapping and seismological monitoring brought in detailed data revealing patterns across the Earth, Hess began to see “that seafloors were spreading away from mid-ocean ridges, where new seafloor was continuously being created in deep cracks” (p. 128). He pulled it all together in an essay called “History of Ocean Basins” and, harkening back to Umbgrove, a Dutch geological writer, described the work as “an essay in geopoetry.” Basically, he was creating a foundation for a theory and that required some suspension of belief. New paradigms require new ways of thinking and they may not always be grounded in current science.

He concluded:

It is hardly likely that all of the numerous assumptions made are correct. Nevertheless it appears to be a useful framework for testing various and sundry groups of hypotheses relating to the oceans. It is hoped that the framework with necessary patching and repair may eventually form the basis for a new and sounder structure (p. 129)

McPhee brings the theory into the present day as he works alongside Kenneth Deffeyes, an oil geologist with whom he spends time in the book. When McPhee asks about geologists who do not accept plate tectonics, Deffeyes seems unphased, with skepticism being a part of the field and science in general:

There are always many ideas in various stages of acceptance. That is how science works. Ideas range from the solidly accepted to the literally half-baked–those in the process of forming, the sorts of things about which people call each other up in the middle of the night. All science involves speculation, and few sciences includes as much speculation as geology (p. 133).

McPhee shows how the scientists set out to fill in the gaps that will either prove or disprove the theory. At one point, Hess sends Deffeyes to test the age of some rocks that, if he were right, would be young. If not, the whole theory would be called into question. This is serious hypothesis testing.

But then, there is a moment when the various threads seem to click and the theory becomes accepted because its explanations seem to make sense. McPhee quotes a marine geologist who was a graduate student at the time: “It is a wondrous thing to have the random facts in one’s head suddenly fall into the slots of an orderly framework. It is like an explosion inside…I think I spend half my time just talking and listening to people from many fields, searching together for how it might all fit together. And when something does fall into place, there is that mental explosion and the wondrous excitement. I think the human brain must love order” (p. 135).

 

 

Understanding a Writer’s Lens

books, reading

Book cover for Midnight in SiberiaDavid Greene‘s reporting memoir of his journey on the Trans Siberian Railway, Midnight In Siberia: A Train Journey Into the Heart of Russia, provides a view of Russia that gets out of the urban centers and into the heart of the country where small communities fight to survive, often against their own government. He finds a balance between personal narrative and professional reporting that made this an excellent exploration of a very different world.

Greene paints loving portraits of those he meets even as he struggles to understand their perspective of loving their country despite its flaws. He finds that perspective particularly difficult, he admits, when he spends time with people like him, urban professionals who are “happy with our jobs, enjoying our friends, the local music scene, and vacations together.” They should, at least in Greene’s opinion, want more of a Western style of life with freedoms and opportunities. They are willing to live in a country that they admit is “ill,” something he and Rose do not believe about the society in which they live.

That view shows a blind spot in Greene’s view of the United States that kept getting in my way. Here is his description of Russia:

This is a wild, entertaining place full of culture, creativity, and craziness. I understand why Russians go to the United States and find it boring and too controlled. Here, it’s the Wild West, for better or worse. Worse, surely, if you have to live here with little means. For those with wealth the place must feel like an electrifying vacation where any amount of adventure or luxury is possible. For people without money, the chaos must be a cruel existence, because life can feel so uncertain. Little is possible, and little seems fair. I have kept that in mind at every stop on this journey, tempering the fun and wild moments with a dose of reality (p. 279).

I wonder what a poor person in the United States would make of this description? In an earlier passage, Greene references the corrupt, chaotic legal system in Russia and, again, seems to be blind to the failings of his own country when it comes to those not living the upper middle class life in Los Angeles and Washington, D.C.

No one said, I’m satisfied with the system in Russia–let’s leave it as it is. As an American, sure, I’d love to make some tweaks. But all in all, if a Russian writer came and asked me, I would say I am pretty proud of what I have. No one is Russia said that (p. 287).

Again, this passage is tone deaf to real structural problems in the United States around equity and justice. A few tweaks? I suspect, he would find Americans living in poverty and experiencing injustice, who also loved their country and carry that same pride but would not be quite as satisfied with the system as Greene seems to be.

Here is where reading both opens us to a new world but also reminds us that authors write from their own perspective, their own lens on the world. Greene did, during the early days of the Obama administration, make a similar trip into the heart of America to see how the recession was impacting Americans. I wonder if the interesting book might be to compare apples to apples: impoverished, struggling Americans living in small, dying towns with their counterparts in Russia.

Measuring the Pulse of the Earth

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I am currently reading Annals of the Former World, John McPhee’s geological history of the United States. It pulls together four previously published books and then a final fifth book and includes a fascinating narrative table of contents where McPhee gives an overview of two decades of travel and writing.

I have had it on my shelf for a very long time and decided this was the year to dive in. And, I am so glad I did. McPhee was an English major who dabbled in science, especially geology. His writing is a pleasure to read. The first book, Basin and Range, is a combination of travel memoir and scientific treatise and historical outline. McPhee’s passion spills over when he tries to explain his interest in geology:

Geology was called a descriptive science, and with its pitted outwash plains and drowned rivers, its hanging tributaries and starved coastlines, it was nothing if not descriptive. I was a fountain of metaphor–of isostatic adjustments and  degraded channels, of angular unconformities, and shifting divides, of rootless mountain and bitter lakes (p. 31)

He introduces us to the early geologists, including Sherlock Holmes who despite being fictional was the first forensic geologist, interpreting bits of grit from various locales.

And, I learned that it is not just the water tides that are impacted by the moon. In fact, there are solid-earth tides: “The sea is not all that responds to the moon. Twice a day the solid earth bobs up and down, as much as a foot. That kind of force and that kind of distance are more than enough to break hard rock” (p. 21). I did not know this bit of geological trivia. While I don’t completely understand the science described here, this article describes the idea of “rock tides.” 

Reading Round Up

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I have five books completed for the year so far. Here are my reviews. I am determined to write a review of every book I read this year, posting them to LibraryThing and this blog.

The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ
Philip Pullman

I have been digging into Daemon Voices, a collection of Philip Pullman’s essays on storytelling. In the essay on The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ, he suggested that, while he usually doesn’t explain his books, this particular book required some background. Written for a series called Myths, Pullman created his own version of the story of Jesus by imagining that twins were born on that fateful night. He stuck close to the Gospels but took each event and gave it a little twist. And, in the end, he concluded that “the imaginary figure of Christ was of much greater use to the church than the historical person of Jesus.” The religion that grew around the historical personage is, according to Pullman, of human construction.

I feel like this is a book that should be read like the scripture. One chapter at a time with reflection about how Pullman re-interprets that familiar story. It is worth a read and I can also recommend the essays. I had checked the book of essays out from the library but knew I needed to own a copy. His prose is just thick and wonderful and I want to be able to reread at leisure and browse without feeling like I have to finish it at a pre-determined time.

Beekeeper’s Apprentice
Laurie R. King

Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie King begins with fifteen-year-old Mary Russell stumbling over her neighbor Sherlock Holmes who has retired to the Sussex Downs to take up beekeeping. From that chance meeting between two similarly brilliant minds, the novel unfolds wonderfully, following the friendship as it becomes a partnership. All the familiar Holmes’ characters from Mrs. Hudson to Watson to Mycroft appear as well. I loved this book in so many ways not least of which was the gorgeous, overflowing prose. For now, it is listed as a stand alone novel on the author’s website but I would love a sequel.

Nightwoods: A Novel
Charles Frazier

It has been a very long time since I read Cold Mountain but remember Frazier’s prose, the way that natural world played its role in his story. And, I remember having a pretty knock down drag out argument over the ending.

I think the ending of Nightwoods is a little more definitive but Frazier isn’t one for making it completely clear. What he does do well is spin a tale full of suspense and fear and past violence coming full force into the presence. He reveals details on his own timeline, just at the moment when they will, he knows, hit you the hardest, wrapped up as you are in the story.

Luce lives as a hermit in the old Lodge on the lake, seemingly contented with the “reimbursements” she receives for her life of solitude. These are mostly a deep connection with and gratitude towards the natural world. But she opens that solitary life to her niece and nephew after her sister dies. The children have been deeply wounded but Luce, with her patience and lack of expectations, works with them gently. Eventually, the world finds them and Frazier’s tale spins fast and sometimes shockingly towards its end.

Among Flowers: A Walk Among the Himalaya
Jamaica Kincaid

I am sorry I didn’t like this book more. I found the prose choppy and as the story moved along, also too inward focused. I wanted more travel and flowers and less Kincaid. Finding that balance in this kind of book (and recipe blog posts on the Internet) is a challenge, I think. The opening chapter, as she prepares for this journey, includes observations about leaving Vermont and how she knew that world would never be the same. She drew me in with these moments of clarity.

But the journey ends before she comes home and only in the last paragraph or so do we get any larger lessons. Ultimately, while her view of Vermont may have changed, she didn’t seem to record any real change in herself. She admitted to whining and swings from appreciation of the sherpas to annoyance when they don’t seem to be meeting her every need. (At some point, I think she does recognize that they are basically keeping her group alive on this adventure.) There is honesty in the account: she could have left out her annoyance and whining, I suppose.

I am toying with a rating scale as I have benchmarks for five-star books having read at least two so far this year. I think, for me, this was a 3.5. As a gardener, the idea of seed gathering in the Himalaya was of interest and her observations about making gardens resonated with me but the author herself got in the way.

One Good Deed
David Baldacci

It is 1949, and Aloysius Archer has just been released after a wrongful prison sentence and bussed to Poca City where he is determined to get a clean start. Despite those plans, he quickly gets pulled into a murder mystery. Baldacci’s novel has all the elements of a classic crime novel, with gritty realism and snappy dialog. Archer is a compelling character who discovers his army scout training can come in handy when you are the prime suspect in a murder. I am hoping it might be the beginning of a series but for now, it is listed as a stand alone novel on Baldacci’s website.

 

Filling Out My Bingo Card

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I spent an enjoyable afternoon considering my reading for 2020 through the lens of the Bingo card challenge at LibraryThing. This challenge is a collection of 25 reading prompts from “a book with a red cover” to “a book by a non US/UK female” and everything in between. I only had one square left on my card last year and found that the challenge had me think about books in different ways.

Participants in the challenge share their reading in a wiki. It’s always interesting to see which books people choose as there is rarely a particular genre attached to the prompt. That book with the red cover could be nonfiction, fiction or poetry.

I try to find a balance each year between planning my reading and finding space for serendipity. Part of the fun of the Bingo card is seeing how books fit even when you didn’t realize it.