Response 3: In-tune With Nature

In every chapter of his book, Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey comes across as incredibly in-tune with nature. I sense his love of the outdoors in the way that he beautifies the natural world, describing harsh almost unforgiving surroundings as lovely and majestic. The tone behind his writing feels very comfortable and relaxed, even when learning something new about the desert. Perhaps the chapters I enjoyed the most because of his connection with the land were “The Serpents of Paradise” and “Cliffrose and Bayonets.” In the latter, he provides readers with a gorgeous tour-like description of desert animals, plants and insects. He’s able to find beauty in coarseness, which I find admirable. Abbey sums up his feelings toward the Arches and surrounding landscape best in the middle of the “Cliffrose…” chapter when he wrote:

"Strolling on, it seems to me that the strangeness and wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert, by the comparative sparsity of the flora and fauna: life not crowded upon life as in other places but scattered abroad in spareness and simplicity, with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree, each stem of grass, so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock."

I must agree that there is something appealing in the way he explains spareness, in the ability to appreciate something small rather than something great. Today, people tend to focus more on quantity rather than quality, and as a result I think they miss out on the simple things in life. Although, if I were in the middle of a hot desert, alone, I’m not sure I would find it so attractive. But the way Abbey weaves his thoughts and feelings into his comfortable tone makes me believe that the desert is truly beautiful because it doesn’t require a lush, green, overly decorative lawn or garden. It’s pleasing in its natural state.

Because Abbey seems so at ease with his position in Utah, I found it surprising that he felt isolated from the desert. In “The Serpents of Paradise” chapter he portrays a lovely moment when he observes the gopher snakes’ dance ritual. He is mesmerized by these snakes, wondering if one happens to be his former pet. And yet in the following chapter, “Cliffrose…,” he mentions isolation because he doesn’t fit in with the desert. When he kills the rabbit, I understand how he transforms into a predator and gains a sense in pride knowing that he could survive using his bare hands. At the same time I am disgusted by his indifference. How natural is it to kill an animal for sport or experiment than out of necessity? It wasn’t necessary to kill the rabbit, yet he did and considered his experiment a success.

During the rabbit scene, I questioned Abbey’s actions because he disrupts the natural order of the land he claims to love. His behavior differs greatly from weeks prior when he formed a bond with the gopher snake, which we learn about in “The Serpents of Paradise.” Throughout his brief attachment to the snake, he gave me the impression of closeness; closeness with creatures and therefore the landscape. As he wrote regarding the snake, “We are compatible. From my point of view, friends.” However, this sense of friendship disappears with the snake, and somehow I feel cheated when he later writes how separate he feels from way of life in the desert.