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American Places
A book about America by one of the greatest writers of the American West
"This book is an attempt, by sampling, to say something about how the American people and the American land have interacted, how they have shaped one another; what patterns of life, with what chances of continuity, have arisen out of the confrontations between an unformed society and a virgin continent. Perhaps it is less a book about the American land than some ruminationsabout the making of America. . . . We are the unfinished product of a long becoming."
—from American Places
For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
"This book is an attempt, by sampling, to say something about how the American people and the American land have interacted, how they have shaped one another; what patterns of life, with what chances of continuity, have arisen out of the confrontations between an unformed society and a virgin continent. Perhaps it is less a book about the American land than some ruminationsabout the making of America. . . . We are the unfinished product of a long becoming."
—from American Places
For more than seventy years, Penguin has been the leading publisher of classic literature in the English-speaking world. With more than 1,700 titles, Penguin Classics represents a global bookshelf of the best works throughout history and across genres and disciplines. Readers trust the series to provide authoritative texts enhanced by introductions and notes by distinguished scholars and contemporary authors, as well as up-to-date translations by award-winning translators.
252 pages, Paperback
First published October 29, 1981
8 people are currently reading
196 people want to read
About the author
Wallace Stegner
187 books2,131 followersWallace Earle Stegner was an American historian, novelist, short story writer, and environmentalist. Some call him "The Dean of Western Writers." He won the Pulitzer Prize in 1972 and the U.S. National Book Award in 1977.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
June 26, 2015
**WARNING** This is going to be a long review. Apologies in advance. :)
[American Places] is a collection of thirteen essays, eight by [Wallace Stegner] and 4 by his son [Page Stegner] and one they wrote together. The essays celebrate the beauties of America, its varying geography and fascinating history. At the same time, they are heavily apologist, decrying the "conquering spirit" of the immigrants and their pillaging of the land and its resources. At first glance, Mr. Stegner and his son seem very similar in their attitude and environmentalism. I did note some interesting differences. Wallace writes in pictures. His prose is lyrical and evokes memories of place and a desire to see the things he has seen. While Wallace is a bit curmudgeonly and grumpily complains about the desecration of his beloved wildernesses, his love for the country shines through.
In the essay "The River", which made me want to embark on a river boat cruise immediately, Stegner writes:
Creator, destroyer, highway, sewer, the Mississippi is also a dream and a myth. For a time it imposed itself as a boundary across the flow of America's westward movement; briefly, it seemed a line at which settlement might stop, or at least pause. then almost at once its tributary the Missouri, and its tributary the Platte, led the nation on west. The Mississippi stayed put, generating its own north-south dream that was made immortal in [Huckleberry Finn]. Europe troubles the East Coast, Asia troubles the West, but nothing troubles the Mississippi.
Page writes a little less lyrically and a little more loosely, but still skillfully and with fondness for the American places. He discusses questions on both sides - whether it's possible to find a balance between growth and sustainability. In addition, he brings up some of the vital questions about the consequences of the social revolution of the 1960's and where it leaves things 25 years later.
In "Life Along the Fault Line", Page writes:
The concept of an individual's civil rights began to eclipse the assumption of community standards of behavior. Much of the new permissiveness was long overdue, and if it inspired people to go out and stump for everything from prison reform to nude sunbathing, the world was probably a better place for it. But for a few people it seems that public restraints were the only measure of personal restraint, and as the lid came off, some subtle, and finally not so subtle, changes began to occur... The "oppressed" had become the oppressors.
In "The Redwood Curtain", Page writes about the cultural divide he saw in Humboldt county. Loggers, whose life depends on the continuance of the lumber business and the younger "hipper" citizens who moved to the area to attend Humboldt University and liked it and stayed. It is the conflict between:
...growth is not necessarily progress, that less is often more... and the fact that (the loggers) are concerned with beans on the table and a roof over the kids' heads, not metaphysics.
"There It Is: Take It" had the most personal impact on me. This essay covers the history of the Los Angeles aqueduct and the federal government's (Teddy Roosevelt's) decision that "the interests of the few must unfortunately be disregarded in view of the infinitely greater interest to be served by putting the water in Los Angeles." The long term effects of this decision include the near emptying of Mono Lake, the drying up of springs and loss of native vegetation leading to dust storms, artesian wells drying and then the ground water at risk. The disregard of the needs of the Owens Valley and the long term effects on the entire ecosystem to feed the insatiable greed Los Angeles had for water was a subtext of my childhood. I grew up near Los Angeles. My water came on the aqueduct. Water conservation and drought, water rights and limitation of growth were subjects any kid over the age of 10 could discuss with some intelligence. "Save Mono Lake" bumper stickers were prevalent in the Bay area in the early 90's when we went to Berkeley for graduate school, and finally after more than a decade of litigation, Mono Lake and its tributaries were finally protected.
Here's the conflict. The water shouldn't have been given exclusively to Los Angeles. The resources of the Owens Valley and other parts of the west should not have been preempted by the needs of a population so far away that the consequences of their wanton use of water were invisible. I fully understand the objection of the citizens who sued to regain some of their water rights. On the other hand, those that lobby for the environment can do just as much damage, whether intentional or not. For an example, have a look at the water wars fought in Northern California over the last decade between farmers and environmentalists trying to save the delta smelt, a fish that will probably go extinct anyway. Is the loss of property and untold acres of fruit and nut trees worth it? And now that those orchards are gone and dry, and only empty, dusty fields remain, what will be the environmental impact of that? It's not zero.
Man, the great creator and destroyer of environments, is also part of what he creates or destroys, and rises and falls with it. In the West, water is life. From the very beginning, when people killed each other with shovels over the flow of a primitive ditch, down to the present, when cities kill each other for precisely the same reasons and with the same self-justifications, water is the basis for western growth, western industry, western communities.
As Page says, only a policy made with the wisdom of Solomon might be capable of both protecting rights of communities and conserving the country we love.
[American Places] is a collection of thirteen essays, eight by [Wallace Stegner] and 4 by his son [Page Stegner] and one they wrote together. The essays celebrate the beauties of America, its varying geography and fascinating history. At the same time, they are heavily apologist, decrying the "conquering spirit" of the immigrants and their pillaging of the land and its resources. At first glance, Mr. Stegner and his son seem very similar in their attitude and environmentalism. I did note some interesting differences. Wallace writes in pictures. His prose is lyrical and evokes memories of place and a desire to see the things he has seen. While Wallace is a bit curmudgeonly and grumpily complains about the desecration of his beloved wildernesses, his love for the country shines through.
In the essay "The River", which made me want to embark on a river boat cruise immediately, Stegner writes:
Creator, destroyer, highway, sewer, the Mississippi is also a dream and a myth. For a time it imposed itself as a boundary across the flow of America's westward movement; briefly, it seemed a line at which settlement might stop, or at least pause. then almost at once its tributary the Missouri, and its tributary the Platte, led the nation on west. The Mississippi stayed put, generating its own north-south dream that was made immortal in [Huckleberry Finn]. Europe troubles the East Coast, Asia troubles the West, but nothing troubles the Mississippi.
Page writes a little less lyrically and a little more loosely, but still skillfully and with fondness for the American places. He discusses questions on both sides - whether it's possible to find a balance between growth and sustainability. In addition, he brings up some of the vital questions about the consequences of the social revolution of the 1960's and where it leaves things 25 years later.
In "Life Along the Fault Line", Page writes:
The concept of an individual's civil rights began to eclipse the assumption of community standards of behavior. Much of the new permissiveness was long overdue, and if it inspired people to go out and stump for everything from prison reform to nude sunbathing, the world was probably a better place for it. But for a few people it seems that public restraints were the only measure of personal restraint, and as the lid came off, some subtle, and finally not so subtle, changes began to occur... The "oppressed" had become the oppressors.
In "The Redwood Curtain", Page writes about the cultural divide he saw in Humboldt county. Loggers, whose life depends on the continuance of the lumber business and the younger "hipper" citizens who moved to the area to attend Humboldt University and liked it and stayed. It is the conflict between:
...growth is not necessarily progress, that less is often more... and the fact that (the loggers) are concerned with beans on the table and a roof over the kids' heads, not metaphysics.
"There It Is: Take It" had the most personal impact on me. This essay covers the history of the Los Angeles aqueduct and the federal government's (Teddy Roosevelt's) decision that "the interests of the few must unfortunately be disregarded in view of the infinitely greater interest to be served by putting the water in Los Angeles." The long term effects of this decision include the near emptying of Mono Lake, the drying up of springs and loss of native vegetation leading to dust storms, artesian wells drying and then the ground water at risk. The disregard of the needs of the Owens Valley and the long term effects on the entire ecosystem to feed the insatiable greed Los Angeles had for water was a subtext of my childhood. I grew up near Los Angeles. My water came on the aqueduct. Water conservation and drought, water rights and limitation of growth were subjects any kid over the age of 10 could discuss with some intelligence. "Save Mono Lake" bumper stickers were prevalent in the Bay area in the early 90's when we went to Berkeley for graduate school, and finally after more than a decade of litigation, Mono Lake and its tributaries were finally protected.
Here's the conflict. The water shouldn't have been given exclusively to Los Angeles. The resources of the Owens Valley and other parts of the west should not have been preempted by the needs of a population so far away that the consequences of their wanton use of water were invisible. I fully understand the objection of the citizens who sued to regain some of their water rights. On the other hand, those that lobby for the environment can do just as much damage, whether intentional or not. For an example, have a look at the water wars fought in Northern California over the last decade between farmers and environmentalists trying to save the delta smelt, a fish that will probably go extinct anyway. Is the loss of property and untold acres of fruit and nut trees worth it? And now that those orchards are gone and dry, and only empty, dusty fields remain, what will be the environmental impact of that? It's not zero.
Man, the great creator and destroyer of environments, is also part of what he creates or destroys, and rises and falls with it. In the West, water is life. From the very beginning, when people killed each other with shovels over the flow of a primitive ditch, down to the present, when cities kill each other for precisely the same reasons and with the same self-justifications, water is the basis for western growth, western industry, western communities.
As Page says, only a policy made with the wisdom of Solomon might be capable of both protecting rights of communities and conserving the country we love.
August 10, 2023
Book 19 of 2023: American Places by Wallace Stegner and Page Stegner (1981/2006, Penguin Books, 252 p.)
A collection of essays by Wallace Stegner and his son Page on the sense of place in America. Presented from esst to west, the essays (9 by Wally, 4 by Page, and 1 co-authored) reflect the the sense of place that forms those attitides that are uniquely American. Each place has been experienced by the Stegners and has formed them into the people they are. This theme of place is common in most of tge senior Stegner's fiction and non-fiction.
The essays are part travel log, part history, part reflective narrative on America and Americans, and part environmental treatise.
The 1981 edition featured photographs by Eliot Porter that are not in this edition (save perhaps the cover photo of the Needles in Canyonlands National Park, Utah).
While I enjoyed Wally's essays more than Page's, reading this has prompted me to seek out more of the junior Stegner's writing.
Recommended.
A collection of essays by Wallace Stegner and his son Page on the sense of place in America. Presented from esst to west, the essays (9 by Wally, 4 by Page, and 1 co-authored) reflect the the sense of place that forms those attitides that are uniquely American. Each place has been experienced by the Stegners and has formed them into the people they are. This theme of place is common in most of tge senior Stegner's fiction and non-fiction.
The essays are part travel log, part history, part reflective narrative on America and Americans, and part environmental treatise.
The 1981 edition featured photographs by Eliot Porter that are not in this edition (save perhaps the cover photo of the Needles in Canyonlands National Park, Utah).
While I enjoyed Wally's essays more than Page's, reading this has prompted me to seek out more of the junior Stegner's writing.
Recommended.
June 22, 2012
3.5 stars
"Tell me where you're from, and I'll tell you who you are." A few weeks after I read Wallace Stegner's words in the early pages of American Places, my husband and I traveled from Oregon to North Carolina. As we walked into the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum, Stegner's quote greeted us in the foyer.
I read a library copy, a coffee-table book. The huge chunks of text on the page made it daunting -- until the writing rewarded my efforts. I love Wallace Stegner's fiction, but these essays were pleasant, but not compelling reading.
Vermont, South Carolina, Dubuque, Salt Lake, Beartooth Pass, Santa Cruz. The Stegner father-son combo explores what makes these places unique, how they've transformed the people who inhabit them.
One of the most dramatic synchronizations of my reading life arrived reading the chapter on Humboldt County, California, the place my husband and I started our married life. Traveling on a Sunday afternoon in Eastern Oregon, we happened upon the topic of the most splendid drives we've taken. Scotland, California's Highway 1, the Rocky Mountains, Montana's Lolo Pass. After a pause, Curt said, "If I could only choose one, it'd be the Mattole Road, from Ferndale to Petrolia. It felt like we were the only ones on the earth, the first to discover the Pacific Ocean."
The. very. next. day. I read Paige Stegner's chapter including the drive from Ferndale to Petrolia. Serendipity. Synchronicity. Synthesis. Sweet!
"Tell me where you're from, and I'll tell you who you are." A few weeks after I read Wallace Stegner's words in the early pages of American Places, my husband and I traveled from Oregon to North Carolina. As we walked into the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum, Stegner's quote greeted us in the foyer.
I read a library copy, a coffee-table book. The huge chunks of text on the page made it daunting -- until the writing rewarded my efforts. I love Wallace Stegner's fiction, but these essays were pleasant, but not compelling reading.
Vermont, South Carolina, Dubuque, Salt Lake, Beartooth Pass, Santa Cruz. The Stegner father-son combo explores what makes these places unique, how they've transformed the people who inhabit them.
One of the most dramatic synchronizations of my reading life arrived reading the chapter on Humboldt County, California, the place my husband and I started our married life. Traveling on a Sunday afternoon in Eastern Oregon, we happened upon the topic of the most splendid drives we've taken. Scotland, California's Highway 1, the Rocky Mountains, Montana's Lolo Pass. After a pause, Curt said, "If I could only choose one, it'd be the Mattole Road, from Ferndale to Petrolia. It felt like we were the only ones on the earth, the first to discover the Pacific Ocean."
The. very. next. day. I read Paige Stegner's chapter including the drive from Ferndale to Petrolia. Serendipity. Synchronicity. Synthesis. Sweet!
April 25, 2020
Well, I was going to give this clunker one star, until the last essay, written by Page Stegner, the author's son, where I made a connection to some feelings I felt about how affordable housing will ruin the area where I grew up in New Jersey.
I barely survived this over-indulgent, look-where-I've-been travelogue around the United States. In every essay, I felt guilty for sitting in my arm chair, reading the book and not becoming an environmentalist. The arrogance of the author to mention every minute detail in HIS grandiose experience trumps everything you think you know about a place, even if you've been there. Thick paragraph after thick paragraph I slogged on, from picnics in Montana with people I will never (now) want to meet, or traveling through lock after lock on the Upper Mississippi River, because of the tediousness, overbearing use of superfluous adjectives is beyond the pale. The son's essays are a bit more readable in the last hundred pages or so, but I can't understand why this is a Penguin Classic. Oh, and did I mention that it's outdated? The most recent essay about how we're abusing the environment is circa 1980.
I barely survived this over-indulgent, look-where-I've-been travelogue around the United States. In every essay, I felt guilty for sitting in my arm chair, reading the book and not becoming an environmentalist. The arrogance of the author to mention every minute detail in HIS grandiose experience trumps everything you think you know about a place, even if you've been there. Thick paragraph after thick paragraph I slogged on, from picnics in Montana with people I will never (now) want to meet, or traveling through lock after lock on the Upper Mississippi River, because of the tediousness, overbearing use of superfluous adjectives is beyond the pale. The son's essays are a bit more readable in the last hundred pages or so, but I can't understand why this is a Penguin Classic. Oh, and did I mention that it's outdated? The most recent essay about how we're abusing the environment is circa 1980.
February 7, 2024
So good. I love a good collection of essays. If you want to read this one, make sure you get the version with Eliot Porter’s photographs. This is a collection of essays, plus the photographs, in coffee table book form. Delightful.
Chapter insights:
** I read The Northeast Kingdom when I was also reading Stegner’s Crossing to Safety. Perfect combination.
** I read Living on the Fault Line after finishing San Fransicko by Michael Shellenberger. Some of California’s problems are just the same old song.
** I loved Crow Country.
** Last Exit to America reads like a Walter Kirn article. Superb.
Chapter insights:
** I read The Northeast Kingdom when I was also reading Stegner’s Crossing to Safety. Perfect combination.
** I read Living on the Fault Line after finishing San Fransicko by Michael Shellenberger. Some of California’s problems are just the same old song.
** I loved Crow Country.
** Last Exit to America reads like a Walter Kirn article. Superb.
June 19, 2014
Stegner is both curmudgeon and tremendous historian. His prose is addictive. And the terrific photography by Elliot Porter (one of the recognized greats in nature photography) is well worth the investment. This is a coffee table book but much more, they put the time into putting this work together. An excellent and enjoyable resource.
April 26, 2022
Moving, organic anecdotes of lives lived in the West, and nostalgic reminiscences of childhoods, wanderings, and concerns for the livelihood of the lives they lived.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews