I mentioned this collection a couple of weeks ago in this late December post, where I described having a hard time getting myself invested in the early essays. Those who read too much into my comments are advised to think again about this book, which I've seen accurately reviewed as an extended meditation on the theme of erosion. If you are going to make a reading decision based on one or two essays, I recommend "My Beautiful Undoing" or "A Beautiful, Rugged Place" as starting points.
Erosion by Terry Tempest Williams (September 2020)
The challenge I encountered in the initial essays was a space between the author's experience and her writing that I wasn't willing to bridge in my reading. "The Council" is perhaps the best example, where the initial portion that describes how Williams interacted and connected with a community through stories gave way to a description of how a work of art grew from the experience. I don't bring this up as a way to criticize the essay, but it just wasn't what I was hoping for from the piece - I'd have been perfectly content to hear more about the stories rather than the eventual work of art fashioned from the act of listening.
But despite the obstacles created by my own misplaced expectations, as I noted a couple of weeks ago I was glad I stuck with Erosion. The resulting set of book notes is full of insights across a wide range of interrelated topics - activism, community, and national politics. What I liked most about the ideas is the way many of them link to a broader theme of disrupting the status quo. An activist, for example, is someone who uses creative thinking to disrupt the status quo, which threatens those who suffocate change as a way to retain power. After reading this book, it's hard to understate the importance of challenging the status quo whenever it's necessary, as it's often the first step toward bringing people together in the community so that they can share experiences, tell stories, and come together over common concerns - these collective voices are often precursors to vital challenges against politically-favored groups, organizations, and corporations. The stories that Williams shares in Erosion serve as an example of how storytelling creates belonging and purpose in a community that form a conscience of a place and keep the purpose of life in perspective for those living in it.
The idea that has stayed with me since reading Erosion has to do with the necessity of grief in the climate movement, and the effect of ignoring the weight of what is being lost each day. Williams writes that grief means no places are safe, and I think this is what I interpreted in the thought of grieving for a changing climate - the suspicion about the cause of a violent storm is the same as the uneasy delight of a spring-like day in the middle of winter, for in grief even the positives are framed in the context of loss, and what's made possible by it. Most importantly, without grief it is so much more difficult to move from feeling to action, which seems to be a common challenge facing any individual or group in the world who is interested in a green future yet unable to make meaning progress toward the aspiration. As Williams notes, the wide range of human emotions are not contradictions, but siblings; I think accepting the full weight of loss is a necessary step for many, and will eventually free them to leave the right things behind in order to save what is truly indispensable.
TOA Rating: Three pronghorns out of four.
