We all have our favorite landscapes. For Craig Childs, it is obviously desert. His love for and appreciation of arid places comes through in every page and line of writing. In brief essays, each with a vague theme - bone, shell, springs - Childs weaves a disconnected tale of his experiences in various deserts, showing that there is far more to these harsh places than heat and dust.
The descriptions of the various desert landscapes Childs has encountered throughout his life were beautifully constructed, albeit a bit clumsy at times. As someone who has never ventured into a desert proper, it was wonderful for me to get to read such loving descriptions of the secret watering places deserts hide, or the towering, almost mystical rock formations. Along with this were brief descriptions of geologic history coupled with the more recent history of the Native Americans who thrived in these landscapes, as well as the stories told by the Native Americans who still call the southwest home.
While I enjoyed reading about nature by someone who is so clearly enthralled with his surroundings, Childs' essays sometimes ventured into a political territory that I felt detracted from the overall effect of the writing. While Childs doesn't shy away from the ugly parts of the desert, showing them hand in hand with the beautiful, descriptions of his encounters with various people - law enforcement, Native Americans, neighbors - often left a sour taste in my mouth. It's obvious that Childs is writing from a place of privilege, either unconcerned or unaware that, during his various hikes and travels, he's getting away with a lot of things many others might not. In addition, while his explanations of Native history and stories were often a welcome addition to descriptions of landscapes, enhancing my understanding of their natural beauty as well as their importance to people throughout history, Childs tends to veer into appropriation. Most vivid is his startling realization that he, along with his wife and infant, camped atop a hill during a storm, the setting of a Native American tale about First Man and First Woman in which, during a storm, they discover the infant Changing Woman and adopt her. Childs draws parallels between his own visit and the story, wondering if history repeats itself, and thus managing to equate his family to the first humans according to this particular Native American tradition. Further, he doesn't seem to care when later told that camping at that particular location is considered taboo - after all, there were no signs warning him and his family away.
This brief book of essays, although clumsy at times both in writing an execution, is clearly a love song to deserts, and Childs sees both the good and bad of these landscapes, apologizing for none of it. An enjoyable read, pleasant in its brevity, but much as I enjoyed Childs' lush descriptions of nature, if the book had been longer I don't know that I could have stomached slogging through the less enjoyable portions of the book.