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Satellite: Essays on Fatherhood and Home, Near and Far
How do we find a way to exist equitably in the world without exhausting our natural and cultural resources? Exploring how to create belonging, among both human and nonhuman animals, is our essential work. Parents have the added responsibility of conveying this charge to their children in a way that centers hope and empowerment over guilt and fear.
In Satellite , Simmons Buntin delves into the idea of belonging—in place, time, family, and community—in sixteen essays written over nearly two decades. The pieces range throughout the desert Southwest, on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border, and as far afield as Mount Saint Helens, eastern Montana, northern Vermont, Sweden, and even the moon (if a telescope atop Kitt Peak counts). Buntin examines the beauty and challenges of raising a family and creating more sustainable communities in the Sonoran Desert—and, more broadly, in any of America’s diverse cultural and ecological landscapes. How should community be defined? How do we protect heritage in an age of globalization? How do we find renewal following personal and place-based trauma? What forms may grace take, and how can parents pass that dignity on to their children?
Fortunately, it is a responsibility both shared and rewarding, funny and phenomenal, for at every turn there is a new discovery, a new insight, a new integration between ourselves and the world that culminates, when we succeed, in a vibrant sense of place. Buntin searches for a balance between the built and natural environments and the beings that inhabit them in a way that enables us not only to survive but to thrive together.
“What I love best about Satellite is that unlike so many of his predecessors, Simmons Buntin is never torn between loving the wilderness and loving his family, between wanting to explore with his camera and wanting to explore with his young daughters. The love for one increases the love for the other in a sort of whirlwind of curiosity, generosity and deep feeling. These are thoughtful, detail-rich essays that are deeply engaged with the natural world and with humans as part of the menagerie. They model in the best way what I have lately heard called tonic masculinity, and manage to have a great deal of fun in the process.”
— Pam Houston, author of Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country
“The best personal essays offer insights into the world as well as the writer. Simmons Buntin manages that fine balance in this collection, which ranges geographically across the American West, from his Tucson backyard to the slopes of Mount Saint Helens, and ranges autobiographically from memories of growing up as the son of a troubled mother to scenes of delight and anguish as the father of two young daughters. Readers will find him an illuminating guide as he searches for beauty and spiritual grounding in nature, a search reflected in the haunting photographs that accompany each essay.”
— Scott Russell Sanders, author of The Way of Imagination
In Satellite , Simmons Buntin delves into the idea of belonging—in place, time, family, and community—in sixteen essays written over nearly two decades. The pieces range throughout the desert Southwest, on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border, and as far afield as Mount Saint Helens, eastern Montana, northern Vermont, Sweden, and even the moon (if a telescope atop Kitt Peak counts). Buntin examines the beauty and challenges of raising a family and creating more sustainable communities in the Sonoran Desert—and, more broadly, in any of America’s diverse cultural and ecological landscapes. How should community be defined? How do we protect heritage in an age of globalization? How do we find renewal following personal and place-based trauma? What forms may grace take, and how can parents pass that dignity on to their children?
Fortunately, it is a responsibility both shared and rewarding, funny and phenomenal, for at every turn there is a new discovery, a new insight, a new integration between ourselves and the world that culminates, when we succeed, in a vibrant sense of place. Buntin searches for a balance between the built and natural environments and the beings that inhabit them in a way that enables us not only to survive but to thrive together.
“What I love best about Satellite is that unlike so many of his predecessors, Simmons Buntin is never torn between loving the wilderness and loving his family, between wanting to explore with his camera and wanting to explore with his young daughters. The love for one increases the love for the other in a sort of whirlwind of curiosity, generosity and deep feeling. These are thoughtful, detail-rich essays that are deeply engaged with the natural world and with humans as part of the menagerie. They model in the best way what I have lately heard called tonic masculinity, and manage to have a great deal of fun in the process.”
— Pam Houston, author of Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country
“The best personal essays offer insights into the world as well as the writer. Simmons Buntin manages that fine balance in this collection, which ranges geographically across the American West, from his Tucson backyard to the slopes of Mount Saint Helens, and ranges autobiographically from memories of growing up as the son of a troubled mother to scenes of delight and anguish as the father of two young daughters. Readers will find him an illuminating guide as he searches for beauty and spiritual grounding in nature, a search reflected in the haunting photographs that accompany each essay.”
— Scott Russell Sanders, author of The Way of Imagination
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267 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 4, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
August 4, 2025
Satellite is reminiscent of Barry Lopez's work--Buntin has the same ability to combine profound ideas about his environment on both a personal and universal level. If his beautiful photographs that head each essay don't draw you in right away, the first lines of his prose will (see his website for exquisite color photos of the b&w ones that are in the book). Yes, the beautiful cover is his photography, as well.
The title refers to both the wonder he has for the stars and for his daughters (as he satellites their growth).
My paperback is so flagged, I'm at a loss to decide what delicious prose passages to pass along to you all. These lyrical essays explore his personal relationships with his daughters, especially the more sensitive younger one, and details his family trauma from a bipolar mother to his own inner demons to a daughter's traumatic accident--running through a sliding glass door. Woven in are moments of beauty and wonder as he explores, ingests, photographs, and learns about the dessert landscapes he is surrounded by as he offers us the gift of his intense understanding of the natural world.
All his essays are wonderful, but the exceptional ones go deepest into that linkage between landscape and spirit.
This is the quote I'll end with:
"Are we not, after all, all starting over in one manner or another following every traumatic event, taking steps and missteps along the way, adjusting as we go? Sometimes abruptly, often slowly, we use what remains to renew and rebuild--after the fall, after the eruption, after the fire. And before whatever transformation comes next."
The title refers to both the wonder he has for the stars and for his daughters (as he satellites their growth).
My paperback is so flagged, I'm at a loss to decide what delicious prose passages to pass along to you all. These lyrical essays explore his personal relationships with his daughters, especially the more sensitive younger one, and details his family trauma from a bipolar mother to his own inner demons to a daughter's traumatic accident--running through a sliding glass door. Woven in are moments of beauty and wonder as he explores, ingests, photographs, and learns about the dessert landscapes he is surrounded by as he offers us the gift of his intense understanding of the natural world.
All his essays are wonderful, but the exceptional ones go deepest into that linkage between landscape and spirit.
This is the quote I'll end with:
"Are we not, after all, all starting over in one manner or another following every traumatic event, taking steps and missteps along the way, adjusting as we go? Sometimes abruptly, often slowly, we use what remains to renew and rebuild--after the fall, after the eruption, after the fire. And before whatever transformation comes next."
June 4, 2025
When it comes to whether I like and recommend a book ultimately comes down to the quality of the writing. A book’s content and subject matters, but if the writing isn’t there, I may not even finish reading the book.
I absolutely and thoroughly enjoyed reading “Satellite!” The author, Simmons Buntin, is also a photographer and poet, and his talents in those fields are evident throughout Satellite. He observes with the photographer’s patience and composes his observations with the poet’s attention to detail. Beautiful poetic phrases light up the prose like lights on a Christmas tree.
Throughout Satellite, readers will feel the joy and the weight of fatherhood. The importance of family and home are among the central themes. It is fascinating to watch the author instill in his kids a sense of humanity, curiosity and their place in the world (and include us in the process).
Satellite is part almanac of Tucson, Arizona and its stories carry us through the seasons and through the years while simultaneously taking us along to explore the neighborhood and its Sonoran roads, sidewalks, trails and byways. Buntin also takes us along with him and his family on travels to Vermont, San Borja and other far-flung destinations, which orbit around the Buntin family home like so many glowing satellites.
The 16 essays in Satellite span several years. Touching stories of his life with his wife and kids. the stories are carefully and thoughtfully crafted. Buntin has created an heirloom-quality collection. Any parent knows the struggles and triumphs, the cozy family moments and they will love this book. Anyone who has walked the line between technology and the natural world, the love of home and the desire to get out and explore, will appreciate these stories. Any parent who has felt in them the contradictory desire of wanting to hold your kids close forever, while simultaneously preparing them to leave the nest as brave, confident, independent adults. Such complex feeling and emotions are difficult to put into words, but Buntin does it, and oh so well.
I highly recommend Satellite. For the insights and wisdom it contains, and because it was a great joy to read.
I absolutely and thoroughly enjoyed reading “Satellite!” The author, Simmons Buntin, is also a photographer and poet, and his talents in those fields are evident throughout Satellite. He observes with the photographer’s patience and composes his observations with the poet’s attention to detail. Beautiful poetic phrases light up the prose like lights on a Christmas tree.
Throughout Satellite, readers will feel the joy and the weight of fatherhood. The importance of family and home are among the central themes. It is fascinating to watch the author instill in his kids a sense of humanity, curiosity and their place in the world (and include us in the process).
Satellite is part almanac of Tucson, Arizona and its stories carry us through the seasons and through the years while simultaneously taking us along to explore the neighborhood and its Sonoran roads, sidewalks, trails and byways. Buntin also takes us along with him and his family on travels to Vermont, San Borja and other far-flung destinations, which orbit around the Buntin family home like so many glowing satellites.
The 16 essays in Satellite span several years. Touching stories of his life with his wife and kids. the stories are carefully and thoughtfully crafted. Buntin has created an heirloom-quality collection. Any parent knows the struggles and triumphs, the cozy family moments and they will love this book. Anyone who has walked the line between technology and the natural world, the love of home and the desire to get out and explore, will appreciate these stories. Any parent who has felt in them the contradictory desire of wanting to hold your kids close forever, while simultaneously preparing them to leave the nest as brave, confident, independent adults. Such complex feeling and emotions are difficult to put into words, but Buntin does it, and oh so well.
I highly recommend Satellite. For the insights and wisdom it contains, and because it was a great joy to read.
December 11, 2025
In his book Satellite, Buntin creates thoughtful connections with his experiences in nature to a ponderings on spirituality or anecdotes from familial or social life. Buntin also uses a variety of essay throughout, which adds interest to the progression of essays he writes. While in "Calendars of Sun and Moon" he weaves together the tale of his family's New Year in Mexico with the explanation of the Aztec perception of time, the essay "A Pure Color" progressively examines specific colors in nature (and their meanings), one color at a time. One theme that could be examined throughout the book (with the numerous references to trips to observe nature, as well as man-made structures with communal or spiritual meaning, camera at hand) is to chase after beauty and spiritual meaning. This is seen even in the not-so-distant trek to find one of the little bells, as in "The Bells of San Borja," which shows that venture on a community scale. Overall, I appreciate how the essays are not entirely independent entities, as a phrase in one later essays refers to a thought earlier in the essay sequence and the book's aim as a whole, in reference to its title.
Out of no disrespect, I had personal concerns with the occasional use of profane language in some of the essays, as well as the topic of alcohol in one particular essay and the history of a certain landmark in another.
Though not a major focus of the last essay, my main concern there was the use of the term "Mormon" to name the religion of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, granted that the nicknamke is not used any longer by the Church. As a member of that faith, I take no offense but merely wanted to address this fact.
Out of no disrespect, I had personal concerns with the occasional use of profane language in some of the essays, as well as the topic of alcohol in one particular essay and the history of a certain landmark in another.
Though not a major focus of the last essay, my main concern there was the use of the term "Mormon" to name the religion of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, granted that the nicknamke is not used any longer by the Church. As a member of that faith, I take no offense but merely wanted to address this fact.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 13, 2025
Well, this is a gorgeous book. Fatherhood, family, the desert, ways of living with compassion and care -- and thoughtful and gorgeous writing. Also, I'm a fan of Terrain.org, topnotch magazine of place-based writings - check 'em out at https://www.terrain.org/ . Also, he's editor of Dear America, which I teach every semester. Also, he's a great photographer. Anyway, a gorgeous book, highly recommend.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews