From firewatcher/poet comes a powerfully meditative with a basis in Japanese poetic form Haibun; comps are Peter Matthiesen's Snow Leopard and The Nine-Headed Dragon River, Terry Tempest Williams, Barry Lopez, and even Norman MacLean's Young Men and Fire.
Multi-award-winning writer Philip Connors had been a fire watcher in the Gila Wilderness for fourteen straight summers when he sustained an injury and was forced to miss a year recovering. When he returned, he resolved to see the mountain with fresh eyes and to keep a detailed notebook.
The result is The Mountain Knows the Mountain, a meticulously observed experience of one fire season chronicled in haibun, the centuries-old prose form dating from Basho’s Narrow Road to the Interior that recounts both inner and outer journeys and incorporates traditional haiku as an occasional element of narrative counterpoint. Though only a beginner in the practice of haiku, Connors deftly weaves close observation, personal reflection, and memory with hard-won knowledge of the forest, of the mountain, and of fire. The Mountain Knows the Mountain is both mythic and immediate, a chronicle of daily events granular in their specificity but connected to larger themes of the observed world and the inner life of the observer. Connors captures the various moods of a long season on a mountain; plays with language and ways of seeing; and includes contributing perspectives from his partner, Mónica Ortiz Uribe, and his friend the late editor and publisher Bobby Byrd. Together with the author’s own simple drawings, the resulting snapshots offer incisive visions of how to be intimate with the wild.
Philip Connors is the author of Fire Season, which won the Banff Mountain Book Competition Grand Prize, the National Outdoor Book Award, the Sigurd F. Olson Nature Writing Award, and the Reading the West Book Award. Connors's writing has also appeared in Harper's, n+1, the Paris Review, and elsewhere. He lives in New Mexico.
Where have you been Felipe? Certainly not on Instagram. As you so thoroughly explained. Lol. We have missed you.
Just another love letter to the mountain and a life lived in the now. This book chronicles April- August 2017 in the tower in the Gila. Lots of musings. Lots of haiku. Lots of joy. But also an elegy for what we as a species has lost.
I think I am in NM because of you. My house at 6,910 feet is a watch tower as everyday I am transfixed by a mountain- Sierra Blanca (11,981 feet). It's in my face looking right back at me. It dominates the landscape. What's a delta of 5k feet to neighbors?