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A Canyon Journey Unites Essays by Women Writers.
By Mari Wadsworth
Writing Down the River, photographed and produced by
Kathleen Jo Ryan (Northland Publishing). Cloth, $29.95.
IN 1869, JOHN Wesley Powell made history when he and six
of his nine crewmen emerged, battered and awestruck, after 99
days at the hands of the then-engorged and untamed section of
the Colorado River that cuts through the Grand Canyon. This would
be the first of two such journeys...and the beginning of a legacy
of discovery that continues today, as legions of tourists, thrill-seekers
and naturalists descend the canyon each year in search of their
own historic journeys down the muddy, mysterious red river.
Photographer Kathleen Jo Ryan's love affair with the Colorado
River began a solid decade ago; and in 1998, after the passage
of her 50th birthday and five trips through the canyon, she and
15 women writers of her choosing have pooled a wealth of words
and images into Writing Down the River. Avid readers won't
find anything new here about the canyon's history or topography,
but Writing Down the River does offer a personalized, respectful
homage to two landscapes: the external beauty of river and canyon;
and the internal quagmire of pain, love, memory and mortality.
The book is a risky venture, in both the experience and the retelling;
and ultimately one must respect its courage in the face of both.
The essayists include familiar names like Denise Chávez,
Linda Ellerbee, Barbara Earl Thomas and Ann Haymond Zwinger; and
if individually their contributions seem only to scratch the surface
of their experiences, taken as a whole the collection succeeds
by assuming a character much like that of its subject: smooth
in some places, rocky in others; at times zinging by on liquid
prose, and at others languishing on an eddy of sentimental reflection.
To focus too intently on the perceived flaws of any one section
is to ignore the beauty of the whole--which, I think, is the unifying
theme of the river experience itself. In her own way, each participant
implores us to let go and enjoy whatever goodness life offers.
The images by Ryan are the lifeblood of the book. Her full-color
plates reflect the eye of the insider--the changing faces of the
river, from placid turquoise to a torrent squall of brown; the
brilliant red of sunset on the South Rim, and the blue light of
a monsoon afternoon mid-river near Nankoweap. A herd of adolescent
big horn, a sandy coil of rope, passengers leaping like lemmings
from a craggy lip over the river; a triptych of water, granite,
and petroglyph: all combine to give the reader a vicarious, and
seductive, glimpse into a journey that, for all the inspiration
to share it, will forever belong to the initiated alone. As it
should be.
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