Book by British writer William Atkins is about seven deserts in five continents, and about desert per se, divine and infernal.
“The Immeasurable World” is William Atkins’ second book. His debut, “The Moor” (also available in the library), was about the vast moorlands of Great Britain. Now he travels to Oman, Australia, China, Kazakhstan, United States and Egypt.
Author doesn’t visit the desert places on his own, he is accompanied by locals or those who have been here before. Voices from the collected “desert library” come along, too, as does a light sense of a heartache. There is one time when he wanders alone too far away and gets lost for a few panicky hours.
Atkins’ deserts are not empty. They are filled with people, traced with history. They are stained with present-day blood. Not that long ago nuclear bombs were tested in the Great Victoria Desert in Australia, poisoning the Aboriginal land and families. The Sonoran Desert in Arizona is a burning topic about the Mexico and United States border. Even if you manage to trespass into the States, it’s like walking from a frying pan into the fire: you still have to cross the desert. Some dead bodies are being found, covered in toothpaste, desperately trying to hide their skin from sun, when still alive.
There are oasis, too. In Black Rock Desert in Nevada, USA, a harsh place for any human soul, author spends a week in the Burning Man festival. Post apocalyptic fun, freedom, kindness, and a couple screwing in a sand storm. All these desert stories will stay like grit between your teeth for longer than you thought they will.
I love what William Atkins does with his sentences. He builds loaded lines and then blows them all away with an added “whatever”. His gaze is sharp, observations filled with humour. At one point he tries to guess the eye colour of a woman, always wearing sunglasses (“Red possibly.”). You laugh but the very next moment have to deal with such undiluted reality check, that you put three dots with your pencil right next to the paragraph, as if gasping for air.
It’s easy to be with the author, and often fun, too, but he will not let you forget, that you are in a desert. Desert is a front line, the devil’s domain, where early Christian hermits, the Desert Fathers, withdrew from society to face demons and seek Christ.
Desert is also beautiful. Silent. Infinite. Describing the vast landscape, it’s impossible not to compare it to the sea. “It was like nothing I had experienced save for being at sea.” But after the Burning Man festival when Atkins rests by the Pacific Ocean, he sees that water is alive. Desert is an ancient seabed, dead for thousands of years. In the chapter about the Aral Sea in Kazakhstan, it dries out in front of locals’ eyes.
And yet desert is home for animals that leave footprints at night, and plants that persist; a refined ecosystem, thriving in its own wonderful way. When spending a starry night in The Empty Quarter in Oman William Atkins dropped a date stone in the fire, his guide, propping on one elbow, reached into the flames, extracted it and threw into the dark desert. “No offer of life was to be wasted.”