Reviews Where the Morning Light’ s Still Blue: Personal Essays About Idaho. Edited by William Studebaker and Rick Ardinger. (Moscow: University of Idaho Press, 1994. 200 pages, $15.95.) This collection of thirty-five essays focuses on what it means to thirty writers to live in Idaho and to engage with its landscape and with the changes that are being imposed on it from inside and out side. Among those collected is Robert Wrigley, who knows that belonging to Lewiston has meant having “a resource of immeasur able value” physically and imaginatively; and Gino Sky, whose “Rhymes Creek” is a refuge from “that place called the real world, where life goes on with its endless hunger for freeways and aggres sive neon.” Idaho is also the place of writers like Bill Hall, who understands that the state is all too attractive to outsiders eager to impose their own misguided values on their new home; John Rember, who feels the loss of the wild Sawtooth Valley even though his family benefited from the new roads that were built; and Mary Clearman Blew, who now must ride horses with her daughter above new subdivisions spoiling the land. The writers gathered here tell us of a place that is like no other in our nation, and all too much like every other wild place overrun by “civilization.” Here are the writers of the last frontier, “geo graphic or symbolic,” as the editors say. They have been fortunate to write from a largely unspoiled place; and yet they have been unfor tunate in having to document its diminishment and its possible loss. Their story is the story of the West, and of our nation. In editing this significant collection, Studebaker and Ardinger have brought to readers a record of the brilliance of Idaho’s writers, 392 Western American Literature few of whom will be known to a national audience; but even more important is how they have added thirty more voices to those of William Kittredge and Gary Snyder, westerners who have shown, if anything, that the true battle for our nation’s soul is being waged on western soil; and who warn that if we are to survive, we must learn, as these writers have learned, how to live in a place where we belong to the land. KEVIN BEZNER Livingstone College TumbleWords: Writers Reading the West. Edited by William L. Fox. (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1995. 380 pages, $20.00.) TumbleWords is the culmination of a writing project begun in 1991 with an “underserved community” grant in Idaho, Utah, and Wyoming. In 1993, the project expanded to include writers in Arizona, Colorado, Montana, Nevada, and New Mexico. One of the goals of the project was to create new audiences for literature, so I entered the text wondering just what it might be in this collection that would indeed approach this goal. Well, as Fox himself says, the writings cannot be defined as avant-garde. In attending to the aforementioned goal, Fox did not want “to puzzle or challenge” the audience. To rope off a segment of the western United States and then approach their literary needs with less than full respect for their intellectual capacity for the complications of con temporary literature is absurd. Life in the western states is no less complex than life anywhere in the world. For writers to resort to only “reconnecting . . . local audience[s] with their own memories and voices” can perhaps only be an exercise in sentimentality. Nevertheless there are challenges to be met in the work of the seventy-two writers relegated to the task of mirroring those whom Fox seems to label as less than sophisticated. Ron McFarland from Idaho, in his “At the Correctional Facility,” considers the need for words that might add up to a form for perhaps understanding and getting out of the defeat of a life of crime. From her cabin in Utah’s Bear River Range, Kate Boyes’s essay “I Hold with Those Who Favor Fire” trails through memories of growing up in the sixties to ...
Read full abstract