Among Giants: Interning at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library

I am lucky enough to be one of the first Texas Tech University undergraduate students to present an essay at the Sowell Collection Conference.  Presenting at the conference entailed researching, editing multiple drafts, and practicing the essay over and over.  Our essays were about a writer whose manuscripts are housed in the James Sowell Family Collection in Literature, Community and the Natural World.  It was such a nerve-racking experience, knowing that I would be giving an essay about a book whose author was sitting right in front of me.

Prof. Kurt Caswell and students researching in the Holden Reading Room

I prepared for the conference for an entire semester.  It was a class that turned into something so much bigger than in-class lessons.  It became an experience only I and 15 or so other students shared out of the 30,000 students at the university.  It started as an assignment in which we learned about some of the authors in the collection — Barry Lopez, Gretel Ehrlich, and David Quammen — looked through their boxes, which contained of drafts of their works, photographs, journals, and other personal items and picked something that interested us.

Some boxes from the Bill McKibben collection before they were processed and ready for researchers.

Some boxes from the Bill McKibben collection before they were processed and ready for researchers.

The next step was writing an essay, and we had complete writing freedom.  We could choose what to write, the only guideline was that the essay must adhere to something or someone in the collection.  It was a daunting task, looking through a plethora of boxes to find one thing that interested me.  I thought it would be impossible.

It turned out to be one of the most exciting and fulfilling things that I have done in all my classes.  I wrote my essay over Gretel Ehrlich’s book, This Cold Heaven.  In it she describes how the Inuit people of Greenland interact with others — family, friends, significant others — and how the cold is the driving force behind their way of interacting. I focused on the Inuit people’s relationships and how they differ from Western culture’s relationships. I read my essay in front of the authors Barry Lopez, John Lane, and David Quammen, whom I had come to admire and respect. They made up part of the audience and were listening to my words, not because they had to, but rather because they cared about what I had to say. It was really empowering, and a feeling that I have strived to get again since then.

Photograph from the Gretel Ehrlich Collection, at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library

Photograph from the Gretel Ehrlich Collection, at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library

This feeling was the reason I was so excited to work at the Sowell Collection again and why I wanted to put together some type of collection that would have all of the past conference papers from past undergraduate presenters. It was important to me that people who would visit the collection in the future would know about the conference and its presenters for years to come. The feeling presenting at the Sowell Conference gives a student matters, the conference matters and a record of it must be made.

Student panel at the Sowell Collection Conference 2013

Student panel at the Sowell Collection Conference 2013

I began to intern in the collection in the fall semester of 2014. I took a tour of the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library, which is bigger than I ever imagined, so I could get to know my learning space more intimately. I read books by different authors whose work resides there. I had conversations about the authors’ books as well as about how they affected me. I dove into the collection, but I didn’t expect for it to appeal so much to me.

I will be putting the papers from the former TTU student presenters in order, from the first year and the first presenter, to the present year and last presenter. It will reside in the Sowell Collection, accessible to anyone who wants to know about the conference and read the essays written by the students who were affected by the authors and their writing. The essays will all be in one place, permanently part of the collection, because when we presented the essays during the conferences, we also became writers in the collection.

Ana Navarrete is a senior Environment and the Humanities student who plans to attend law school in the fall of 2015, with the aim of  pursuing a career in environmental law.  She is a member of Texas Tech’s Honors College from Houston, Texas.

The Next Sowell Collection Conference will be held April 16-17-18, 2015, and will feature Susan Brind Morrow, Gary Paul Nabhan, John Lane, and Toni Jensen.

 

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I Know a Place I’ve Never Seen: Reading Susan Brind Morrow’s The Names of Things

I have an overwhelming sense of wanderlust that became a life companion after I traveled to Europe for the first time on my own. To see other places in the world became a necessity. I loved the cities, the good and the ugly all the same.

Names of Things

For this reason Susan Brind Morrow’s Names of Things really spoke to me. Her travels to Egypt were infectious, and her lust for the unknown was contagious. Egypt becomes one of her passions, and as she writes about her time there, she describes it with very realistic language, not once romanticizing the qualities Egypt has to offer. She describes the people, the places she visits, and her surroundings exactly as she sees them, leaving no ‘ugly’ part out. Morrow fell in love with the place and its people for what they had to offer her, not for what it was supposed to be like, and I fell in love with her vision of Egypt. It’s a harsh land to conquer, and my favorite part was that she didn’t try to conquer it. Instead, Morrow simply adjusted to it and found humor where other people normally wouldn’t, for example in the case of the Jeep. She drives a jeep while she is in Egypt, because it is reliable for the sand dunes, but unfortunately it frequently boils over. In a situation of stress and frustration, Morrow instead finds this time as useful and turns it into spare time to make herself a cup of tea with the heat of the radiator. It was a small necessary reminder that the situation remains the same, whether you stress or not.

The book deals with language, culture, and openness for change. Morrow welcomes change with open arms, and understands that staying still is impossible. Morrow writes, “All refuge I find is at best temporary…somewhere in the process of learning this, in the heat and exhaustion and the harsh openness of sand, rock and wind, my resistance gave way.” The truth of her words resonated with me, and applied in situations that had nothing to do with Egypt.

Passport

Expired passport with stamps for Egypt. In the Susan Brind Morrow Papers.

 

My favorite part of her writing was her unromanticized sentences. She leads the reader to intimately know and understand the place as she does, without altering Egypt’s scenery for a more romanticized idea, because she simply accepts things as they are. This is one of the book’s greatest strengths, because the reader can also fall in love with a place, rather than an idea.

This blog entry was written by guest contributor Ana Navarrete.

Ana Navarrete is a senior Environment and the Humanities student who plans to attend law school in the fall of 2015, with the aim of  pursuing a career in environmental law.  She is a member of Texas Tech’s Honors College from Houston, Texas.

Susan Brind Morrow Papers at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library, Texas Tech University:  http://www.lib.utexas.edu/taro/tturb/00172/trb-00172.html

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Susan Brind Morrow’s Journals and Notebooks: Reading and Discovery

Susan Brind Morrow will visit Texas Tech University as a featured speaker for our fourth annual Sowell Collection Conference to be held April 16-18, 2015.  In preparation for her visit and for talking to undergraduate students about Morrow’s books, I recently re-read The Names of Things: A Passage in the Egyptian Desert, her first book about her travels and studies in Egypt.  Early in the book, Morrow describes an ostrich feather fan that she has saved:  “I spread the feather fan across my face and inhale it.  Its smell is vague and fading now, like the scent of my journals from that time…”

I had supervised the processing of Morrow’s manuscript collection, housed now in the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library, and I remembered the students listing boxes and boxes of journals and notebooks.  With this passage as my inspiration, I requested those boxes and spent days with them, notebook by notebook, page by page.

Drawing of grass plant, from Box 7, folder 25.

Morrow’s handwriting flows, almost like water, with barely a ripple to distinguish consonant and vowel, but I came to be able to read many of the passages.  I came to see each page as a work of art, beautifully and carefully crafted, as well as a journalistic entry.

From box 8, folder 8.

In her journals, as shown in the section above, she reflects upon the difficult task she has set herself: “I guess I am just trying to understand that exotic adventures do not matter so much.  It is only how well you write–at this point for me it is only the writing– [?] go from writing snippets to writing a book” (box 8, folder 8).

I could never find a particular notebook or journal with the scent of old feathers, with the scent of Egypt–neither the Nile nor the desert–still clinging to the pages.  But it must be there somewhere.

Susan Brind Morrow Papers at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library, Texas Tech University:  http://www.lib.utexas.edu/taro/tturb/00172/trb-00172.html

 

 

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The Brothers K by David James Duncan

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I was intimidated by David James Duncan’s novel The Brothers K.  It sat on my bookshelves for years, always on the “I’m going to read it someday” list.  My copy is a thick paperback, almost 1 ½ inches wide, and I knew that with that width came lots and lots of pages (645, to be precise).  Experience has taught me that I can’t read a book of that length in the short reading slots I have available in my regular life.  And the title, The Brothers K, seemed to mean that in order to appreciate all the nuanced layers and allusions, I really must read Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov first. But Russian novelists also intimidate me, so it was a double whammy of dread and regret every time I scanned the shelves for something to read, putting my finger lightly on that thick spine with the large blue K.  Someday, I told myself, I’ll read this one.

That “someday” came just last month.  First, thanks to BBC radio, I listened to The Brothers Karamazov in five one-hour programs.  Secondly, my husband wanted to go swimming.

1280px-Lea_Lake

 

He especially wanted to go swimming at Bottomless Lakes State Park, a three hour drive from our home in Lubbock.  We were going to make a quick trip, spending the night in Roswell.  We’d been to Bottomless Lakes many times before, well worth the drive for a wonderful day of swimming in cold clear water.  My husband can swim all the way across, while I go out a little way and then float on my back, wearing my sunglasses so I can look up at the bright blue sky.  I envisioned a day of swimming and floating, interspersed with some serious lounging with a good book and some picnic food—bread, cheese and olives.

The lakes are sinkholes, formed when the roof over a subterranean river collapsed, so the water is always fresh, cold, and somewhat salty.  There is a bathhouse and pavilion built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps, one of those sturdy stone buildings that I so admire.  The lakes are called “bottomless” because years ago cowboys tried to measure the depth with ropes dropped over the side of a boat, but the current kept the rope from ever reaching the bottom, amazing and confounding them.

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????The day before we left, I started in reading The Brothers K.  I was hooked.  Then, while at the lake, I had hours of reading time.  I passed page 300, passed page 400.  I swam, I got sunburned, I swept little striped bugs off my arms and legs when they distracted me from the world of the novel.  I was still reading when we returned to Lubbock, and though I had to put the book down once because I couldn’t bear to read any more, I was so distraught over the characters’ plights and terrified for their safety, and then again the next night because I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I finished the book.  I loved it.

I’m not going to describe The Brothers K in any great detail.  I’m afraid I’ll say too much and perhaps spoil something for future readers.  Read it yourself.  Don’t be intimidated.  You don’t even have to read The Brothers Karamazov first.DJC_Award

A bit about The Brothers K:  This novel describes three decades of the life of the family Chance, beginning in the family living room in Camas, Washington, and coming to a close with the aftermath of the Vietnam War.  There are brothers, four of them, and their young twin sisters.  Their father supports his large family by working in the paper mill, their mother runs the household, but takes her strength from her Seventh-day Adventist church.  Baseball, religion, family, set in the Pacific Northwest.  My kind of book indeed.

Duncan says of the title: “In statistician’s lingo, a K is a strikeout–a personal failure.  And the struggle to come to terms with personal and national failure is a huge part of the novel.”  An Interview with David James Duncan, by Clark Munsell.  The World & I, Oct. 1992.

Images:  Book cover; Lea Lake, New Mexico; “Notes taken interviewing a drunk & stoned Vietnam vet for the VN scenes in BK” from Box 4, folder 19 of DJD Papers; Casey Award nomination for best book about baseball, from DJD Papers.

David James Duncan Papers at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library, Texas Tech University:  http://www.lib.utexas.edu/taro/tturb/00153/trb-00153.html

 

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Robert Michael Pyle’s Writings from Wallowa-Whitman National Forest

During the Sowell Collection Conference held in April 2013, our book signing events brought us all some unexpected joy and gratitude.  When Robert Michael Pyle prepared to come to Lubbock as a featured speaker for the Conference, he packed his suitcase with copies of his chapbook, Letting the Flies Out, and each evening he presented them, with thoughtful and kind inscriptions, to other conference participants, including a host of TTU undergraduates. In addition to sharing his chapbook with us, Pyle also presented a talk with slides on his Mariposa Road year, played the harmonica to accompany David Taylor’s talk on and singing of the Texas River Song, sat attentively listening to the other presentations.  He joked and laughed and talked to everyone.

Work_SowellConference_Snow_etc 234

When I read this book, perhaps more than any other he has written, it’s like having him right in the room again.

Letting the Flies Out includes two short stories, two essays and fifteen poems.  One story, “Runaway Truck Ramp,” was runner-up for the High Desert Journal‘s Obsidian Prize in Fiction in 2011.  Gretel Ehrlich served as judge.   In it, Jude Murray, a woman who drives big trucks for a living, has had a long fascination with the sandy upgrades of runaway truck ramps that appear with regularity on the West’s dangerously steep mountain roads.  The runaway ramps embody, she says, “that irreversible choice–you can’t take it back.”

As for the poems, this one I think just might be my favorite:

Pyle_Letting (2)The Watermelon

Too ripe! Leaking in the bottom
of the fridge. Take it out, put it
on a stump.  Cleave it four ways
with a very serious knife. Cut
out the center.  Eat it in cubes,
four days and nights.  Delicious!
Put the rest out in the sun.
Someone will eat it: the calliope
humming bird, butterflies, beetles.
Or bees.  One morning, all gone.

And to think I was just going to toss it!

Many of the pieces were written during Pyle’s Werner Writing Residency at Fishtrap in Billy Meadows, Wallowa-Whitman National Forest in the northeast corner of Oregon.  His descriptions of the animals he encountered and observed are carefully unsentimental, while showing the naturalist’s appreciation for each species and its connection to all others in the meadow.  For example, these stanzas from “The Elk Come to Billy Meadows”:

We listen for an hour or more, afraid to wreck
the peaceable kingdom of bugle, huff, and chew.
Small owl slides by, back and forth, as I make out
antlers, dark mantles, all those big white butts.

Cold and sleepy, we take to the cabin. Wapiti pay
no mind at all. Early morning, rise and go. I walk
down to see what all that grinding’s wrought: pellets
everywhere, blue butterflies coming to sip.

Billy Meadows residence - Wallowa-Whitman NF Oregon

Letting the Flies Out, by Robert Michael Pyle.  Enterprise, OR: Fishtrap Inc., 2011 (first printing), Gray’s River, WA: The New Riverside Press, 2012 (second printing).

Photo of residence at the Billy Meadows guard station by Ian Poellet from Wikimedia Commons.

“The Watermelon” used with the author’s permission.

  Continue reading

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Rick Bass: the challenges and inspirations from the Yaak Valley

Rick Bass reading "The Thinness of the Soil" at the second Sowell Collection Conference, April 2013.

Rick Bass reading “The Thinness of the Soil” at the second Sowell Collection Conference, April 2013.

The Yaak Valley is a stretch of forest in Northwest Montana. The area surrounding the Yaak Valley is under constant threat from logging companies that want to harvest the timber for economic gain. Logging destroys environments and alters ecosystems. Rick Bass is an environmental writer who calls the Yaak Valley home. Through his writing and influence Rick Bass fights for the conservation and environmentally sustainable treatment of the land throughout Northwest Montana.

Rick Bass is a member of the Yaak Valley Forest Council. The Yaak Valley Forest Council formed in 1997 and concerns themselves with “the health and management of the forest lands that they call home” (Yaak Valley Forest Council). In their fight to maintain the integrity of the Yaak Valley the council is increasingly aware of how threats to the environment threaten species that are unique to their area. In defending their position to keep the remaining road-less cores as uninhabited as possible the Yaak Valley Forest Council cited a study that looked into the relationship between unaffected road-less cores and the animals and wildlife found in those areas.

“Up in the northeast corner of the Yaak – “The Upper Yaak” – there remains one last uncut, road-less basin, beneath the damp north-facing shadow of Mt. Henry. In this basin, not coincidentally, lives the only remaining pure population of inland red band rainbow trout in all of Northwest Montana.”

This study is just one example of the research and time that goes into their fight for sustainable forestry. The Yaak Valley Forest Council has put years of heart and dedication into protecting the forest in which they reside. Since the council is made up of Yaak Valley residents, they share a unique perspective that cannot be duplicated by outside sources. The Yaak Valley Forest Council is a strong influence in Rick Bass’s life and his literature.

While pouring through Rick Bass’s papers in the Sowell Collection I was particularly drawn to the letters he drafted to Congress and various commercial logging companies imploring them to cease the destruction of the Yaak Valley. Reading these letters was captivating. It was evidence of how someone with strength in writing and a passion for the environment was able to fight for a change on a federal level to protect the world around them. I was inspired. The integration of writing and working to leave a positive mark on the natural world was exactly what I want my future career in environmental law to focus on. These letters in the Sowell Collection helped me realize how the work I am doing in undergrad can have a profound influence on the career I aim to pursue.

Rick Bass is obviously not a lawyer; he is a writer who has invested wholeheartedly in environmental activism; however, his passion and drive to fight for his adopted home has enabled him to be effective as a defender of the woods. I respect the effort that he has put into protecting his home. He has faced strong opposition and ignorance from the Forest Service but has stayed committed to his cause. Although there are plenty of times when he could have conceded the forest to the logging industry he recognized the need to preserve what he considers the last “wilderness” areas of Northwest Montana. I hope to be able to fight for the environment with the same passion and vigor in my legal career.

References:

“Yaak Valley Forest Council in Northwest Montana.” Yaak Valley Forest Council in Northwest Montana. Yaak Valley Forest Council, n.d. Web. 1 Apr. 2014. <http://www.yaakvalley.org/&gt;

“Rick Bass: An Inventory of His Papers, 1958-2001 and Undated, at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library.” Rick Bass: An Inventory of His Papers, 1958-2001 and Undated, at the Southwest Collection/Special Collections Library. Texas Tech University. Web. 10 May 2012. <http://www.lib.utexas.edu/taro/tturb/00151/trb-00151.html&gt;

This blog entry was written by guest contributor Michael Austin.

Photo courtesy of Amy Pajewski, West Texas A&M.

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An Experience at Tule Canyon: Max Crawford and the Comanche

Max Crawford, author of Lords of the Plain

Max Crawford, author of Lords of the Plain

The Llano Estacado is a sea of grass that ebbs and flows for hundreds of miles across the Texas Panhandle.  The Comanche were the lords of the Texas plains and controlled the area from the late 18th to the latter half of the 19th century.  They were fearsome warriors and skilled riders, expert hunters and master horseman.  Their mastery of the horse enabled them to control vast expanses with ease.  During the time that the Comanche occupied the Llano Estacado millions of bison roamed the land.  The bison were a great commodity for the Comanche people.  Each animal was used to the greatest extent possible and provided food, clothing, and shelter.  The Comanche prospered in this region.  Their prosperity and way of life was threatened by American Westward expansion and the introduction of Native American Reservations.  Max Crawford’s novel Lords of the Plain is a historical novel concerned with the United States 2nd Calvary and their efforts to rid the Llano and greater plains area of the Comanche people.

Lords of the Plain doesn’t implore the reader to casually breeze through its pages and pass off the story as a casual tale of a war between two very different nations; rather, this novel is dense and pedantic and Crawford pays extreme attention to detail while painting this portrait of struggle and strife.  The tone of this novel is cut and dry and void of any lyricism or linguistic beauty.  While reading I was not certain if Crawford had intentionally written in this style to mimic the landscape that the story takes place in or if he was unenthused about the adventures of the second cavalry and the men who fight in it.  Regardless of the intention behind the prose I didn’t appreciate the story and the historically crucial tale it told.  The book just was not what I enjoy reading.  I passed the book off as just another class reading assignment and moved on from it.

While on a trip with Barry Lopez, Kurt Caswell, and Nita Pahdopony, the great-great-granddaughter of Quanah Parker, and her husband Harry Mithlo, a member of the Apache, the story of the Comanche people and their war with the 2nd Calvary was once again the focus of study.  We were fortunate enough to visit Adobe Walls and Tule Canyon.  Each location was the stage for a pivotal event in the course of the battle for the plains.  Billy Dixon made his infamous mile long rifle shot at Adobe Walls.  I stood in the spot that he was believed to have pulled the trigger.  This nearly mile-long rifle shot was instrumental in stopping the Comanche efforts to lay siege to the North Texas trade outpost.

Tule Canyon was the site of a mass execution of Comanche horses that crippled the Comanche’s ability to fight and all but ensured an American victory.  Over 600 horses were slaughtered in an attempt to debilitate the Comanche.  I was standing where the blood had spilled alongside the great granddaughter of the Comanche chief who, with his people, used these horses in their everyday lives.  The horses were indescribably valuable to the Comanche.  I stood alongside a woman whose heritage was deeply rooted in the livelihood of these horses.  I stood alongside her as she remembered the spirits of the horses and the Comanche that came before.  I was witnessing history.  It may not be a well reported history, or an event that school children will learn about, but it was history nonetheless and I was deep in the trenches experiencing a moment that could never, and would never, be replicated.  As we walked across the canyon and surrounding hills Nita’s husband, Harry, told us that a song had come to him during the drive to the canyon.  Harry wanted to sing this song to bless the horses and calm the restless spirit that was so evident throughout this area.  Harry pulled out his ceremonial drum and began to perform his horse song.  This song had never been sung before, no one had heard it, it was unique to this moment and I was immersed in it.

As Harry performed his song my mind drifted away from the story of the horses slaughtered here and back to the tale that Crawford told about the American Calvary’s experience acting as the executioner.  Shot by rifle shot they executed the lifeblood of a nation, of people.  I was standing in the chapters that came too late for Crawford to pen.

The Sowell Collection’s involvement with prominent nature writers was the foundation that made this experience possible.  Without their involvement this invaluable experience may have never presented itself.  Witnessing the Comanche people bless the spirits of the horses they loved that were wrongly slaughtered was a once in a lifetime opportunity.  This event will never take place again.  Those moments will never be recreated.  I witnessed history.

This blog entry was written by guest contributor Michael Austin.

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