“… we are wild animals too, of course. We forget that. We’re just mammals with attitude. In a lot of ways our skills pale before their skills, and in a lot of ways we are terrible at fitting into our environmental niche. Why we achieved this dominance is sometimes a mystery to me, and a dangerous dominance it is too. The whole point of our evolution, it seems to me, is for us to find a way to fit back into the world as it is, rather than try to remake the world to fit us, but not everybody thinks like me.”
Brian Doyle never ignored the fact that humans are connected to the natural world in ways that many of us have failed to recognize or simply forgotten. His work (this is my third) explores this relationship with such grace and beauty. Although I love his non-fiction piece, Children and Other Wild Animals, a little more than this, I won’t soon forget these people of the hamlet of Zigzag or the little pine marten named Martin. The way Doyle parallels the lives of Dave, the teenaged boy, with Martin, a “teen” within the mustelid family, was clever. Doyle paints what I can’t help but call a heartwarming picture. It’s just too fitting! Dave’s relationship to his sister and his mother and father are depicted in relation to Martin’s relationship to his mother and sister. The only thing absent here is Martin’s father who suffered the fate of many animals in the wild. I already knew quite a bit about teenage boys, well, at least the bit about themselves that have been shared willingly with me as well as my own observations. What was new for me, however, were the delightful descriptions of the marten.
“… it was as if Time, who designs all beings and whittles them to their absolute essence, had decided to build the most perfect small mammalian hunting machine, mixing a bit of bear and lynx and hawk together into a small dose of cheerful, efficient predation, giving it the wildest wilderness for home and making its enemies few, relentless though they be…”
The character head count in this novel is pretty easy to keep track of. I recall having a little more difficulty when I read Mink River, though by the end I knew them as well as I would my own family. Each are so well drawn that they could walk off the page and you’d recognize them. The store owner Miss Moss and the trapper Mr. Douglas were high on my list of favorites. Their offbeat little romance is sometimes narrated straight from the horse’s mouth. Not joking. Mr. Douglas’ horse, Edwin, provides comic relief and wisdom in the strangest places.
“You two are always talking when you should be kissing and fencing when you should be wrestling. How human animals ever manage to reproduce is a mystery to me sometimes. So much chatter and jabber.”
Then there’s Moon, Dave’s best friend. He’s a privileged yet lonely soul, whose parents are often away from home. And Emma Jackson Beaton, a co-worker of Dave’s mom. It seems half the town has a crush on her, men and women alike, despite the fact she’s married to the never-seen-in-person Billy Beaton. Mr. Shapiro, the retired history teacher, and his rescue dog offer some insight into the affairs of the heart as well.
“… how can I call myself a historian if I cannot piece out some of the history of someone I live with? Although perhaps that’s the final frontier – maybe it’s easier to understand things you don’t love than things you do. The closer you are, the farther. That could be.”
There’s just a hint of a plot here. Mostly, it’s a slice of life in the lives of the people and animals of Zigzag and its surrounding wilderness. There’s some adventure and a nail-biting event, and – for my animal-loving friends – some true to life scenes of the perils animals face in their natural environments. There are predators and trappers and the everyday forces of nature. Some animals are harmed or killed. People die. Doyle presents this to us in a realistic fashion. He doesn’t depict gratuitous violence, nor does he gloss over or romanticize the truth of living in this world. He was a genuine and compassionate man who must have been a pleasure to have known. I have a limited amount of his work left to read, but I’m fortunate to have “met” him through the writings he left us before he passed at a much too early age.
“People are stories, aren’t they? And their stories keep changing and opening and closing and braiding and weaving and stitching and slamming to a halt and finding new doors and windows through which to tell themselves, isn’t that so? Isn’t that what happens to you all the time? It used to be when you were little that other people told you stories about yourself and where you came from, but then you began to tell your own story, and you find that your story keeps changing in thrilling and painful ways, and it’s never in one place. Maybe each of us is a sort of village, with lots of different beings living together under one head of hair, around the river of your pulse, the crossroads of who you were and who you wish to be.”
A few more favorites, because Brian Doyle is just so damn quotable!
“The fact is that the more stories we share about living beings, the more attentive we are to living beings, and perhaps the less willing we are to slaughter them and allow them to be slaughtered.”
“… being happy at someone else’s happiness, he is beginning dimly to realize, is a form of love.”
“That’s the final frontier for all of us. To take off as many masks as you can pry off and just be you.”
“That’s wonderful, to feel that ripple of fascination with someone, isn’t it? It’s always such a surprise – like a window opened suddenly, or a light clicks on where you didn’t even suspect there was a lamp. Of course, it’s always fraught with confusions and complications, but it’s such a lovely thing, the surprise, isn’t it?”
“Is this why we write and read, in the end, in order to find new words for the things we feel but do not have words for?”