Burntwater by Scott Thybony (review)

WAL 33(3) Fa l l 1998 ering the raft to shore, he takes another lesson from nature, observing, “Too often our lives become spider webs of precaution, attempts to register every threat through its subtle vibrations” (273). In other words, we live our lives too cautiously without testing our mettle against the natural world. In the vein of Robert Frost, another New Englander, he observes, “Every way of relating to nature soon becomes a way of seeing,” (117) and a little later, “I consider that regard for living beings increases the esteem we feel for ourselves”(130). Much later he tries to understand rural attitudes and to think like the ranchers, who “have come to view the natural world in very utilitarian terms. Whereas they descend from settlers who sought to tame a wilderness and make a living, we recreationists seek wilderness in order to escape civilization and to learn more about ourselves” (228). He writes in one of his final essays that wilderness isn’t just about preserving the howl of the coyote; it’s about discovering the wilds within, both the howls and the giggles that society can squelch (239). The central theme resounds in every piece, whether on the trail or on the river: we’re screwing up the natural world; we need to become more aware of the cumulative impacts of our actions (or lack of actions). “We share breath with plants, imbibe the same water as animals, and carry much of the same genetic make-up. . . . If we consider nature’s own purposes, which ultimately include our own, it becomes apparent that diversity is crucial” (138). We continue to destroy the diversity of the planet through our careless, thoughtless doings in a world becoming ever more enslaved to the twin powers of gain and greed. Yet, writes Rea, “Despite such deletions, even degradations, the Colorado Plateau remains an enormously enchanting region, a truly magical place that takes hold of the soul” (278). These are the last words of the final essay, leaving the reader to wonder if Rea sees any hope or merely suggests that we enjoy what’s left while we can. In “Rhapsody,” the short piece which wraps up the book, Rea muses, “A sandstone symphony plays music for my eyes, melodies I hear with my heart” as he rides his bike at dusk along the road in Zion and crashes to avoid colliding with a big buck— another way to kiss the earth, he con­ cludes (279). We are left at least with personal hope if not with global answers. Burntivater. By Scott Thybony. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1997. 117 pages, $29.95/$ 15.95. Reviewed by Kate Boyes Southern Utah University When Bumtwater opens, Scott Thybony is at home, a place that is “a mile below the mountain summit and a mile above the canyon floor, the point of balance” (vii). But he is suffering from a loss, and his life is out of BOOK REVIEWS 329 balance. While storm clouds gather, he sets off on a road trip through the Four Corners region of the Southwest, a quest through snow and mud and time to regain what he has lost. Finding balance in the Four Com ers region, an area of extreme contrasts , can take years. Thybony takes his time, journeying to places— Bluff, M exican Hat, Davis Gulch, the Grand Canyon and the Paria Plateau— on his present trip and remembering events that happened in those same places on past trips. The narrative moves backward and forward in time until the line between past and present blurs and becomes insignificant. Thybony’s story has the quality of circular time that seems common in this region; dates mean little when what happened twenty years ago is still happening and will happen again twenty years hence. Thybony’s ability to write about a region in a style clearly shaped by that region sets Bumtwater many notches above other books in the western road trip genre. The pace of the book matches the experience of traveling through the Southwest— quick, vivid glimpses of life strung together by stretches of pure movement. Images take shape on the page in the same...