Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a 1974 nonfiction narrative book by American author Annie Dillard. Told from a first-person point of view, the book details an unnamed narrator's explorations near her home, and various contemplations on nature and life. The title refers to Tinker Creek, which is outside Roanoke in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains. Dillard began writing Pilgrim in the spring of 1973, using her personal journals as inspiration. Separated into four sections that signify each of the seasons, the narrative takes place over the period of one year.
The book records the narrator's thoughts on solitude, writing, and religion, as well as scientific observations on the flora and fauna she encounters. Touching upon themes of faith, nature, and awareness, Pilgrim is also noted for its study of theodicy and the inherent cruelty of the natural world. The author has described it as a "book of theology", and she rejects the label of nature writer. Dillard considers the story a "single sustained nonfiction narrative", although several chapters have been anthologized separately in magazines and other publications. The book is analogous in design and genre to Henry David Thoreau's Walden (1854), the subject of Dillard's master's thesis at Hollins College. Critics often compare Dillard to authors from the Transcendentalist movement; Edward Abbey in particular deemed her Thoreau's "true heir".
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek was published by Harper's Magazine Press shortly after Dillard's first book, a volume of poetry titled Tickets for a Prayer Wheel. Since its initial publication, Pilgrim has been lauded by critics. It won the 1975 Pulitzer Prize for General Non-fiction, and in 1998 it was included in Modern Library's list of 100 Best Nonfiction Books.
Background and publication
Dillard, the daughter of an oil company executive, grew up in an upper middle-class home in Pittsburgh. She read voraciously; one of her favorite books was Ann Haven Morgan's The Field Book of Ponds and Streams, which she compared to the Book of Common Prayer; in painstaking detail, it instructed on the study and collection of plants and insects. She attended Hollins College in Roanoke County, Virginia, receiving both a bachelor's (1967) and a master's degree (1968). At Hollins she came under the tutelage of poet and creative writing professor Richard Henry Wilde Dillard, whom she married in 1965. She would later state that Richard taught her everything she knew about writing. Her master's thesis, "Walden Pond and Thoreau", studied the eponymous pond as a structuring device for Henry David Thoreau's Walden. Dillard's knowledge of Thoreau's works was an obvious inspiration, although critics have pointed to many differences between their two works. However, in a nod to his influence, Dillard mentions within the text that she named her goldfish Ellery Channing, after one of Thoreau's closest friends.
After graduating in 1968, she continued to live in Virginia, near the Blue Ridge Mountains, where she wrote full-time. At first she concentrated solely on poetry, which she had written and published when she was an undergraduate. She began keeping a journal in 1970, in which she recorded her daily walks around Tinker Creek. Her journals would eventually consist of 20 volumes. In 1971, after suffering from a serious bout of pneumonia, she decided to write a full-length book dedicated to her nature writings. Dillard wrote the first half of Pilgrim at her home in spring 1973, and the remaining half the following summer in a study carrel "that overlooked a tar-and-gravel roof" at the Hollins College library. She would later explain her choice of writing location as stemming from her wanting to avoid "appealing workplaces .... One wants a room with no view, so imagination can meet memory in the dark." When she first began writing the book, Dillard would only dedicate one or two hours a day to the task; by the last two months, however, she was writing nearly 15–16 hours a day.
Dillard's primary reader for Pilgrim was a Hollins professor called John Rees Moore. After finishing a chapter, she would bring it to Moore to critique. Moore specifically recommended that she expand the book's first chapter "to make clear, and to state boldly, what it was [she] was up to," a suggestion that Dillard at first dismissed, but would later admit was good advice. Previous to publication, chapters of the book appeared in publications including Harper's Magazine, The Atlantic, and The Living Wilderness.Pilgrim at Tinker Creek was published by Harper's Magazine Press in 1974, and was dedicated to Dillard's husband. Editor in chief Larry Freundlich remarked upon first reading the book: "I never expected to see a manuscript this good in my life .... The chance to publish a book like this is what publishers are here for."
Written in a series of internal monologues and reflections, the book is told from the perspective of an unnamed narrator who lives next to Tinker Creek, in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Roanoke, Virginia. Over the course of a year, the narrator observes and reflects upon the changing of the seasons as well as the flora and fauna near her home. Pilgrim is thematically divided into four sections—one for each season—consisting of separate, named chapters: "Heaven and Earth in Jest", "Seeing", "Winter", "The Fixed", "The Knot", "The Present", "Spring", "Intricacy", "Flood", "Fecundity", "Stalking", "Nightwatch", "The Horns of the Altar", "Northing", and "The Waters of Separation".
The first chapter, "Heaven and Earth in Jest", serves as an introduction to the book. The narrator describes the location as well as her connection to it:
I live by a creek, Tinker Creek, in a valley in Virginia's Blue Ridge. An anchorite's hermitage is called an anchor-hold; some anchor-holds were simple sheds clamped to the side of a church like a barnacle or a rock. I think of this house clamped to the side of Tinker Creek as an anchor-hold. It holds me at anchor to the rock bottom of the creek itself and keeps me steadied in the current, as a sea anchor does, facing the stream of light pouring down. It's a good place to live; there's a lot to think about.
In the afterword of the 1999 Harper Perennial Modern Classics edition, Dillard states that the book's other, two-part structure mirrors the two routes to God according to Neoplatonic Christianity: the via positiva and the via negativa. The first half of the book, the via positiva, beginning with the second chapter, "accumulates the world's goodness and God's." The second half, the via negativa, ends with the chapter "Northing" which Dillard notes is the counterpart of the second chapter, "Seeing". The first and last chapters of the book serve as the introduction and conclusion, respectively. The narrative is composed of vignettes detailing the narrator's wanderings around the creek. In "The Present" the narrator encounters a puppy at a gas station off the highway, and pats its belly while contemplating the view of the nearby mountain range; the reflective act of "petting the puppy" is referred to in several other chapters. In "Stalking", the narrator pursues a group of muskrats in the creek during summer. One of the most famous passages comes from the beginning of the book, when the narrator witnesses a frog being drained and devoured by a water beetle.
Style and genre
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a work of creative nonfiction that uses poetic devices such as metaphor, repetition, and inversion to convey the importance of recurrent themes. Although it is often described as a series of essays, Dillard has insisted it is a continuous work, as evidenced by references to events from previous chapters. Although the chapters are separately named—several have also been published separately in magazines and anthologies—she referred to the book in a 1989 interview as a "single sustained nonfiction narrative". Dillard has also resisted the label of "nature writer", especially in regard to Pilgrim. She stated, "There's usually a bit of nature in what I write, but I don't consider myself a nature writer."
The book often quotes and alludes to Walden, although Dillard does not explicitly state her interest in Thoreau's work. Critic Donna Mendelson notes that Thoreau's "presence is so potent in her book that Dillard can borrow from [him] both straightforwardly and also humorously." Although the two works are often compared, Pilgrim does not comment upon the social world as Walden does; rather, it is completely rooted in observations of the natural world. Unlike Thoreau, Dillard does not make connections between the history of social and natural aspects, nor does she believe in an ordered universe. Whereas Thoreau refers to the machine-like universe, in which the creator is akin to a master watchmaker, Dillard recognizes the imperfection of creation, in which "something is everywhere and always amiss".
In her review for The New York Times, Eudora Welty noted Pilgrim's narrator being "the only person in [Dillard's] book, substantially the only one in her world .... Speaking of the universe very often, she is yet self-surrounded". Dillard seemingly refers to the idea of an "invisible narrator" in the sixth chapter of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek; while referring to the "infinite power" of God, the narrator notes that "invisibility is the all-time great 'cover'". Nancy C. Parrish, author of the 1998 book Lee Smith, Annie Dillard, and the Hollins Group: A Genesis of Writers, notes that despite its having been written in the first person, Pilgrim is not necessarily autobiographical. The narrator, "Annie Dillard", therefore becomes a persona through which the author can experience and describe "thoughts and events that the real Annie Dillard had only heard about or studied or imagined." Critic Suzanne Clark also points to the "peculiar evasiveness" of Dillard-the-author, noting that "when we read Annie Dillard, we don't know who is writing. There is a silence in the place where there might be an image of the social self—of personality, character, or ego". While most critics assume that the narrator is female, mostly due to the autobiographical elements of the book and the assumption that the narrator is Dillard herself, Clark questions whether the narrator is male. Stating that Dillard uses "a variety of male voices, male styles" throughout the book, Clark asks, "When Dillard quit writing Pilgrim at Tinker Creek in the persona of a fifty year old man, did she then begin to write as a woman?"
Religion and nature
Pilgrim is often noted for its study of theodicy, or its defense of God's goodness in the face of evil. The narrator attempts to reconcile the harsh natural world, with its "seemingly horrid mortality," with the belief in a benevolent God. Death is repeatedly mentioned as a natural, although cruel progression: "Evolution", the narrator states, "loves death more than it loves you or me." A passage in the second chapter of the book describes a frog being "sucked dry" by a "giant water bug" as the narrator watches; this necessary cruelty shows order in life and death, no matter how difficult it may be to watch. The narrator especially sees inherent cruelty in the insect world: "Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly ... insects, it seems, gotta do one horrible thing after another. I never ask why of a vulture or a shark, but I ask why of almost every insect I see. More than one insect ... is an assault on all human virtue, all hope of a reasonable god." While she remains drawn to the ultimately repugnant and amoral natural world, she also questions her place in it. The narrator states, "I had thought to live by the side of the creek in order to shape my life to its free flow. But I seem to have reached a point where I must draw the line. It looks as though the creek is not buoying me up but dragging me down."
The title of the book suggests a pilgrimage, and yet the narrator does not stray far from her home near the creek: the journey is metaphysical. Margaret Loewen Reimer, in one of the first critical studies based on the book, noted that Dillard's treatment of the metaphysical is similar to that of Herman Melville. While "Melville's eyes saw mainly the darkness and the horror" of the natural world, possibly stemming from his New England Puritan roots, Dillard's "sinister" vision of the world comes "more from a horror at the seeming mindlessness of nature's design than from a deeply pervasive sense of evil." Unlike Melville, however, Dillard does not moralize the natural world or seek to find parallels in human cultural acts; focusing largely on observation as well as scientific analysis, Dillard follows the example of Charles Darwin and other naturalists.
The "pilgrim" narrator seeks to behold the sacred, which she dedicates herself to finding either by "stalking" or "seeing". At one point, she sees a cedar tree near her house "charged and transfigured, each cell buzzing with flame" as the light hits it; this burning vision, reminiscent of creation's holy "fire", "comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it." Critic Jenny Emery Davidson believes that Dillard's act of "stalking" allows her to rewrite the hunting myth, a popular theme in nature writing which mediates the space between nature and humans. Although a long tradition of male nature writers—including James Fenimore Cooper, Jack London and Richard Nelson—have used this theme as "a symbolic ritual of violence", Dillard "ventures into the terrain of the hunt, employing its rhetoric while also challenging its conventions."
Seeing and awareness
While some critics describe Pilgrim at Tinker Creek as being more devoted to speculation of the divine and natural world than to self-exploration, others approach the work in terms of Dillard's attention to self-aware analysis. For example, critic Mary Davidson McConahay points to Dillard's Thoreauvian "commitment to awareness".
In the book, the narrator is not only self-aware, but also alert to every detail around her. Pilgrim's second chapter defines two types of seeing: as "verbalization" (active) and as "a letting go" (passive). The narrator refers to the difference between the two methods as "the difference between walking with and without a camera." Whereas the former requires the need to "analyze and pry", the latter only requires rapt attention. The act of seeing is exhaustive and exhausting, as one of the chapters relates: "I look at the water: minnows and shiners. If I am thinking minnows, a carp will fill my brain till I scream. I look at the water's surface: skaters, bubbles, and leaves sliding down. Suddenly my own face, reflected, startles me witless. Those snails have been tracking my face! Finally, with a shuddering wrench of the will, I see clouds, cirrus clouds. I'm dizzy. I fall in. This looking business is risky." Sandra Johnson refers to the structure of the book itself leading to an epiphany of self-awareness, or a "mystical experience"; as the narrator watches a falling maple key, she feels "lost, sunk ... gazing toward Tinker Mountain and feeling the earth reel down".
Reception and awards
The book was a critical and financial success, selling more than 37,000 copies within two months of publication. It went through eight separate printings in the first two years, and the paperback rights were quickly purchased. Dillard was unnerved by the crush of attention; shortly after the book was published, she wrote, "I'm starting to have dreams about Tinker Creek. Lying face down in it, all muddy and dried up and I'm drowning in it." She feared she had "shot my lifetime wad. Pilgrim is not only the wisdom of my 28 years but I think it's the wisdom of my whole life."
The initial consensus among reviewers was that it was "an unusual treatise on nature". The book was published soon after her poetry collection Tickets for a Prayer Wheel (1974, University of Missouri Press). Reviewing both volumes for America, John Breslin noted the similarities between the two: "Even if her first book of poems had not been published simultaneously, the language she uses in Pilgrim would have given her away." The Saturday Evening Post also praised Dillard's poetic ability in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, noting that "the poet in her is everywhere evident in this prose-poem of hers: the reader's attention is caught not only by the freshness of her insights, but by the beauty of her descriptions as well." Melvin Maddocks, a reviewer for Time, noted Dillard's intention of subtle influence: "Reader, beware of this deceptive girl, mouthing her piety about 'the secret of seeing' being 'the pearl of great price,' modestly insisting, 'I am no scientist. I explore the neighborhood.' Here is no gentle romantic twirling a buttercup, no graceful inscriber of 365 inspirational prose poems. As she guides the attention to a muskrat, to a monarch butterfly, a heron or a coot, Miss Dillard is stalking the reader as surely as any predator stalks its game."
Despite being a bestseller, Pilgrim received little academic attention until more than five years after its publication. Early reviewers Charles Nicol and J. C. Peirce linked Dillard with the Transcendentalism movement, comparing her to Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Author and environmentalist Edward Abbey, known as the "Thoreau of the American West", stated that Dillard was the "true heir of the Master". He wrote, "she alone has been able to compose, successfully, in Thoreau's extravagant and transcendental manner." In his 1992 book critic Scott Slovic wrote that Pilgrim at Tinker Creek eventually "catapulted [Dillard] to prominence among contemporary American nonfiction writers—particularly among nature writers—and stimulated a wealth of reviews and a steadily accumulating body of criticism." Gary McIlroy believed that Dillard's work is distinctive for its "vibrant rediscovery of the woods. [She] studies the wildest remnants of the Virginia woodlands, stirring all the dark and promising mysteries of the American frontier.
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek won the Pulitzer Prize for General Non-fiction in 1975, when Dillard was 29 years old. The jury noted in its nomination that "Miss Dillard is an expert observer in whom science has not etiolated a sense of awe ... Her book is a blend of observation and introspection, mystery and knowledge. We unanimously recommend it for the prize." Since its initial publication, portions of the book have been anthologized in over thirty collections. Subsequent editions included those published by Bantam Books (1975) and Harper Colophon (1985; 1988). The Harper Perennial 25th-Anniversary edition, which included an afterword by the author, was released in 1999. The first UK edition was released in 1976. The book has been translated into many languages throughout the years, including Swedish, Japanese, French, and German. In 1998 it was listed in Modern Library100 Best Nonfiction Books, both on the board's and the reader's lists.
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 121
- ^Dillard (1994), p. 173
- ^Smith (1991), p. 7
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 149
- ^McIlroy (1994), p. 91
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 146
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 126
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 122
- ^Dillard (1989), p. 27
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 125
- ^Smith (1991), p. 8
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 138
- ^ ab"Bibliographical Data". Annie Dillard – Official Website. Retrieved March 17, 2012.
- ^Smith (1991), p. 1
- ^Dillard (1999), p. 4
- ^Dillard (1999), pp. 279–280
- ^Pearson (1998), p. 29
- ^Kitchen (2011), p. 117
- ^"Books by Annie Dillard". Annie Dillard – Official Website. Retrieved November 23, 2011.
- ^Chevalier (1997), p. 224
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 120
- ^Mendelson (1995), p. 51
- ^ abMcIlroy (1994), p. 87
- ^Papa (1997), p. 107
- ^Welty, Eudora. (March 24, 1974.) "Meditation on Seeing". The New York Times. Retrieved November 28, 2011. (Subscription needed.)
- ^Hardack (2008), p. 83
- ^Dillard (1999), p. 91
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 126
- ^Slovic (1992), p. 66
- ^Clark (1991), p. 168
- ^Scheese (1996), p. 128
- ^Dockins (2003), p. 638
- ^Dockins (2003), p. 642
- ^Scheese (1996), pp. 128–129
- ^Marshall (1998), p. 89
- ^ abReimer (1983), p. 183
- ^Chénetier (1990), p. 167
- ^Radaker (1997), p. 124
- ^Davidson (2001), p. 218
- ^Slovic (1992), p. 62
- ^Ireland (2010), p. 25
- ^Dillard (1999), p. 33
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 155
- ^Johnson (1992), pp. 4–7
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 124
- ^Parrish (1998), p. 125
- ^Reimer (1983), p. 182
- ^Breslin (1974), p. 314
- ^Saturday Evening Post (November 1974), p. 74
- ^Maddocks (1974), p. 104
- ^McClintock (1994), p. 88
- ^Slovic (1992), p. 61
- ^McIlroy (1987), p. 71
- ^Fischer (1988), p. 362
- ^"100 Best Nonfiction Books". Modern Library. Retrieved November 23, 2011.
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- Chénetier, Marc. (1990). "Tinkering, Extravagance: Thoreau, Melville, and Annie Dillard". Critique: Studies In Contemporary Fiction, 31(3): pp. 157–172.
- Chevalier, Tracy. (1997). Encyclopedia of the Essay. Chicago, IL: Fitzroy Dearborn. ISBN 1-884964-30-3.
- Clark, Suzanne. (1991). "Annie Dillard: The Woman in Nature and the Subject of Nonfiction". Sentimental Modernism: Women Writers and the Revolution of the Word. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. ISBN 0-253-31374-0.
- Davidson, Jenny Emery (2001). "Stalking a Prayer: Crossings of the Hunter and the Shaman in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek." Such News of the Land: U.S. Women Nature Writers. Eds. Thomas S. Edwards and Elizabeth A. De Wolfe. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England. ISBN 1-58465-097-4.
- Dillard, Annie. (1989). The Writing Life. New York, NY: Harper & Row. ISBN 0-06-016156-6.
- Dillard, Annie. (1994). The Annie Dillard Reader. New York, NY: HarperCollins. ISBN 0-06-017158-8.
- Dillard, Annie. (1999). Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. New York, NY: HarperCollins. ISBN 0-06-095302-0.
- Dockins, Mike. (2003). "Stalking the Bumblebee: An Exploration of 'Cruelty' in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek." Massachusetts Review 44(4): pp. 636–648.
- Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich (1988). The Pulitzer Prize Archive: A History and Anthology of Award-Winning Materials in Journalism, Letters, and Arts. National Reporting, 1941–1986, Volume 2. New York, NY: Walter de Gruyter. ISBN 3-598-30170-7.
- Hardack, Richard. (2008). "'A Woman Need Not Be Sincere': Annie Dillard's Fictional Autobiographies and the Gender Politics of American Transcendentalism". Arizona Quarterly: A Journal of American Literature, Culture, and Theory, 64(3), pp. 75–108.
- Ireland, Julia A. (2010). "Annie Dillard's Ecstatic Phenomenology." Isle: Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment, 17(1): pp. 23–34.
- Johnson, Sandra Humble. (1992). The Space Between: Literary Epiphany in the Work of Annie Dillard. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press. ISBN 0-87338-446-6.
- Kitchen, Judith. (2011). "Grounding the Lyric Essay". Fourth Genre: Explorations In Nonfiction, 13(2), pp. 115–121.
- Maddocks, Melvin. (1974). "Terror and Celebration". Time, 103(11): p. 104.
- Marshall, Ian. (1998). Story Line: Exploring the Literature of the Appalachian Trail. Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia. ISBN 0-8139-1797-2.
- McClintock, James. I. (1994). Nature's Kindred Spirits: Aldo Leopold, Joseph Wood Krutch, Edward Abbey, Annie Dillard, and Gary Snyder. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. ISBN 978-0-299-14173-8.
- McIlroy, Gary. (1987). "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and the Burden of Science." American Literature, 59(1): pp. 71–84.
- McIlroy, Gary. (1994). "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek and the Social Legacy of Walden." Earthly Words: Essays on Contemporary American Nature and Environmental Writers. Ed. John R. Cooley. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. ISBN 0-472-09537-4.
- Mendelson, Donna. (1995). "Tinker Creek and the Waters of Walden: Thoreauvian Currents in Annie Dillard's Pilgrim." The Concord Saunterer, 3(1): pp. 50–62.
- Papa, James A. (1997). "Paradox and Perception: Science and Narrative in Walden and Pilgrim at Tinker Creek." Weber Studies, 14(3): pp. 105–114.
- Parrish, Nancy C. (1998). Lee Smith, Annie Dillard, and the Hollins Group: A Genesis of Writers. Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press. ISBN 0-8071-2243-2.
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Having resolved on the coast of Maine to write about the world, Dillard took “Walden” for her model, a debt she acknowledges in “Heaven and Earth in Jest,” the opening chapter of “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek,” to which in “The Abundance” she’s given a more down-to-earth title, “On Foot in Virginia’s Roanoke Valley.” (Many of the alterations Dillard has made to her early work show an inclination to temper her youthful exuberances, tone things down, simplify. “Living Like Weasels,” a favorite with anthologists, is now “The Weasel.”) Like Thoreau, she exhibits in those early essays a knack for aphorism and parable. Like him, she makes her suburban surroundings seem wilder than they were, her adventures more solitary than they were, her pilgrim’s persona more self-reliantly masculine than she was — or he was.
Emerson exhorted poets to “magnify the small” and “micrify the great,” and Dillard knows as well as anyone, Thoreau included, how to put that bit of Emersonian theory into practice. Consider, for instance, the frog. If you’ve read “Pilgrim at Tinker Creek,” you know the frog I’m talking about, the one that makes a memorable appearance in the essay formerly known as “Heaven and Earth in Jest” — an appearance and disappearance both. Once you’ve read the relevant passage, watched the frog deflate and crumple before your eyes as a giant water bug turns it into an amphibian smoothie and sucks it dry, you can’t unread the passage, the side effects of which — as is often the case with Dillard — can be long-lasting. It’s a reviewer’s commonplace to praise a writer’s prose as hallucinogenic, but in Dillard’s case, the adjective fits: Her essays have been known to induce in their users visions of dreamlike intensity.
Even then, in the early 1970s, when she was writing under the influence of Thoreau, she was beginning to emerge from under it. She may be a latter-day Transcendentalist, but the century that separates her from her precursors matters. She knows her Thoreau, her Dickinson, her Merton, her Ecclesiastes, her Book of Job; she also knows her Darwin, her Einstein, her Oppenheimer, her luciferin and her luciferase. With others of her postwar, post-Hiroshima, post-Holocaust generation — Joan Didion comes to mind — she shares an apocalyptic streak. “Walden” is auroral, as if written by dawn’s light. “The Abundance” is crepuscular. Darkness keeps falling across the page. Readers seeking pretty glimpses of heaven on earth will find little comfort here. Humor, yes. And a fair portion of the beautiful and the sublime. A great deal of the sublime. But little comfort. Dillard has said she prefers what Neoplatonic Christians called the via negativa, the doubtful path to God. She may believe in a “created universe,” not an accidental one, but she does so while making herself stare — and making her readers stare — into the “unthinkable void” of space and time.
In arranging her retrospective exhibit, Dillard has abjured chronological order. The essays she wrote first arrive late. She chooses to begin instead with “Total Eclipse” and to end with “An Expedition to the Pole,” a pair of essays from her 1982 book “Teaching a Stone to Talk.” Together, framing the collection, these two essays lend it the shape of a “Divine Comedy.” “Total Eclipse” at first appears to be an account of the astronomical event named in the title, and for another writer — John McPhee, say — the astronomical event alone would have more than sufficed, but Dillard is a metaphysician, not an empiricist. Her preferred method is to transform, through the alchemy of metaphor, natural phenomena into spiritual ones. In her hands, the total eclipse, observed from a hillside in Washington’s Yakima Valley, becomes a descent into an underworld, a “region of dread.” Images of deep-sea diving recur. Blotting out the sun, the moon, like “a mushroom cloud,” obliterates “meaning itself.” The essay is her “Inferno.”
In “An Expedition to the Pole,” she counterpoints the history of polar exploration with a visit to a New Age Catholic church where the Mass is performed to the accompaniment of a folksy singalong. “I would rather, I think, undergo the famous dark night of the soul,” she writes, “than encounter in church the dread hootenanny.” Who wouldn’t? And yet, as she braids these two threads, the hootenanny and the expedition to the pole, they begin to combine and mingle in astonishing ways — like firefly enzymes, perhaps. An extended metaphor emerges, a kinship between worship and polar exploration that grows increasingly hallucinatory, until by the essay’s end, literalizing her metaphor, Dillard delivers us into a comical fantasia: The congregants of the Catholic church are now sharing an ice floe with survivors of doomed expeditions, and Dillard’s pilgrim of a narrator is banging a tambourine, joining in on the jamboree as she goes drifting toward the Pole of Relative Inaccessibility for which she has been “searching in the mountains and along the seacoasts for years.” This is nonfiction? Yes. It’s also Dillard’s “Paradiso,” as close to heaven on earth as she ever gets.
As “The Abundance” helps make clear, although “Pilgrim” remains her most famous book, it turns out to have also been her most conventional one. She showed more nerve later on, not less. In an essay omitted here, Dillard once extended a metaphor that compared her writing to the acrobatics of a stunt pilot. Though every one of them required nerve, not all the stunts she attempted came off, as she seems to recognize, looking back. Three of her books — “Holy the Firm,” “The Writing Life” and “Encounters With Chinese Writers” — are represented in “The Abundance” by a single essay each.
In her early work, Dillard tends to soar and sink on lyrical thermals and downdrafts, composing arias of figurative language, piling simile upon simile, image on image, and when I was myself in my 20s, I thrilled to the aerial show of her prose. I still do, though somewhat to my surprise the essay I found most powerful on this reading was “For the Time Being,” a selection from the book of that name, published in 1999, the latest of the eight books sampled here. In it, the figurative language and the lyricism and the flights of rhetoric and fancy have been boiled off, leaving a distillate of prose that is both crystalline and austere. Weaving together a natural history of sand and a fragmented biography of the French paleontologist and Jesuit priest Teilhard de Chardin, fellow traveler on the via negativa, the essay represents a culmination, an ultima Thule, of Dillard’s late style, and possibly of her four-decade career.
I’d be remiss if I neglected to report that the book’s subtitle is a touch misleading. The newest of these 22 essays — one of two that can’t be found in a previous book — dates from 2005. Is it greedy to wish that there were more new offerings among the old? Is it indiscreet to wonder what Dillard has been up to since she published her second novel, “The Maytrees,” almost a decade ago? Is it grim to worry that there won’t be more to come? That, as Dillard has suggested in interviews, the pilgrimage might be over? That this might be it? If this is it, if this is what the decades have done to her, to us, it will have been enough, more than. The title of “The Abundance” is not misleading in the slightest. What I mostly felt, reading it, was gratitude for the bounty.Continue reading the main story
A review on March 27 about “The Abundance,” a collection of essays by Annie Dillard, referred incorrectly to luciferin, a naturally occurring chemical involved in a firefly’s glow. Luciferin is the substrate in a chemical reaction catalyzed by the enzyme luciferase — it is not itself an enzyme.
The review also referred imprecisely to the chemical process of firefly bioluminescence. While luciferin and luciferase are crucial to that process, a simple combination of the two does not cause a firefly to glow — other chemical components, notably oxygen, are also required.