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Desert Cabal: A New Season in the Wilderness
Ed Abbey’s Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness turns fifty this fall, and its iconic author, who has inspired generations of rebel-rousing advocacy on behalf of the American West, is due for a tribute as well as a talking to. In Desert Cabal: A New Season in the Wilderness, Amy Irvine admires the man who influenced her life and work while challenging all that is dated—offensive, even—between the covers of Abbey’s environmental classic. Irvine names and questions the “lone male” narrative—white and privileged as it is—that still has its boots planted firmly at the center of today’s wilderness movement, even as she celebrates the lens through which Abbey taught so many to love the wild remains of the nation. From Abbey’s quiet notion of solitude to Irvine’s roaring cabal, the desert just got hotter, and its defenders more nuanced and numerous.
98 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
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1239 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 102 reviews
December 10, 2018
My only complaint is that it wasn’t longer! Her response to Ed Abbey was so precise. It put into words the dichotomy I have always felt towards Edward Abbey (who, in spite of confusion, is the reason behind two large tattoos I have). I have a required reading list (that I should probably write down somewhere) when it comes to environmental writing, Desert Cabal is now on it.
March 6, 2021
My own relationship with Edward Abbey is complicated - I wrote my college application essay about my connection to Desert Solitaire, but have increasingly come to see him as representative of a patriarchal environmental movement that places the concerns of white men above everyone else - so I was excited to read Desert Cabal, Amy Irvine’s response to the 50th anniversary of Desert Solitaire. Part tribute and part talking-to, Irvine recontextualizes Abbey in a way I find useful for guiding my own thinking. In particular, I appreciate how Irvine channels Abbey to critique affluent liberal wilderness enthusiasts and the athleisure-isation of the outdoors, her analysis of the construction of solitude as a rhetorical device for evincing a specific strain of masculine rugged individualism, and her choice to place her own 13 year old daughter at the center of the narrative as the face of a more just and equitable environmental future. Ultimately, I think Irvine lets Abbey off the hook a little easily, but I appreciate this book nonetheless.
November 11, 2018
Fifty years ago, Edward Abbey's, Desert Solitaire, was published; and it's on this anniversary Amy Irvine has written, Desert Cabal: A New Season in the Wilderness.
Irvine structures "Cabal" as a conversation between Abbey and herself, bringing along a Coleman stove for brewing coffee; as well as a cooler of Coors for Abbey, and a Stanley flash of Bulleit rye whiskey for herself. With Abbey having been dead nearly thirty years, it's a one-sided conversation, to be sure. But, after fifty years of only Abbey's side of things, isn't it time for someone else to have their say?
Irvine is a sixth-generation Utahn, rock climber, former staff member of SUWA (Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance), and fierce advocate for wilderness and public lands. Her, Trespass: Living at the Edge of the Promised Land, received the: Orion Book Award, Ellen Meloy Desert Book Award, and Colorado Book Award. One would be hard pressed to find anyone else as capable and qualified to sit down with Abbey and discuss his fifty-year old book.
Irvine holds Abbey accountable for the words he wrote, their narrow-minded, hypocritical, and misogynist views. Was he simply "a product of his times?" Certainly so, but that doesn't let him off the hook. "His times," also included the rise of Civil Rights, and an upswell in women's rights. Abbey, a Fulbright Scholar with a master's in philosophy, was neither dense nor ignorant. He knew what was going on and chose to ignore and/or discount it.
During the fifty-year interim since, "Solitaire," things have certainly changed. Neither Moab nor the rest of Utah much resemble the ones he knew. Irvine states that by writing "Solitaire," having it published, Abbey brought about this crowding into, and desecration of, his beloved desert lands. He's to bear much of the blame, if not all of it.
Irvine holds her ownself accountable—she's nor more an angel or paragon than any of the rest of us. She shows displeasure in Abbey's womanizing ways, yet is upfront about her own three marriages and divorces, her own infidelities. In many other ways, she, too, has misbehaved greatly; and also when she aware of doing so, at the time. But because she's stepped outside the lines in similar ways as Abbey doesn't make the actions of either of them, okay. That said, it says much that Irvine considers this to be a "love letter," rather than a diatribe.
It's been over a decade since I read, Trespass, and reviewed it for a local monthly 'zine. So, I've been waiting too long a while (IMHO) for Irvine's "next book." While the desperation of my needs has been kept at bay by her occasional essays and anthology contributions, to now have Desert Cabal in my hands has balmed my decade-deep ache.
One more thing to love about this book is how it came to be published. Irvine was commissioned to provide an essay for an upcoming 50th Anniversary edition of, Desert Solitaire; but what resulted was book-length, and meant to stand on its own. With the assistance of Moab's Back of Beyond Books and Torrey House Press, and an on-line call for funding, Desert Cabal became a reality, bypassing the usual paths to publication; which is apropos for a book dealing with solitude.
Finally, I have to give a shout out to, Blake Spalding and Regina Lopez-Skunkwhite, who, respectively, wrote the foreword and afterword. As incredibly, skilled, and able a writer as Amy Irvine is, each of these two women make this love letter even more of a blessing.
Irvine structures "Cabal" as a conversation between Abbey and herself, bringing along a Coleman stove for brewing coffee; as well as a cooler of Coors for Abbey, and a Stanley flash of Bulleit rye whiskey for herself. With Abbey having been dead nearly thirty years, it's a one-sided conversation, to be sure. But, after fifty years of only Abbey's side of things, isn't it time for someone else to have their say?
Irvine is a sixth-generation Utahn, rock climber, former staff member of SUWA (Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance), and fierce advocate for wilderness and public lands. Her, Trespass: Living at the Edge of the Promised Land, received the: Orion Book Award, Ellen Meloy Desert Book Award, and Colorado Book Award. One would be hard pressed to find anyone else as capable and qualified to sit down with Abbey and discuss his fifty-year old book.
Irvine holds Abbey accountable for the words he wrote, their narrow-minded, hypocritical, and misogynist views. Was he simply "a product of his times?" Certainly so, but that doesn't let him off the hook. "His times," also included the rise of Civil Rights, and an upswell in women's rights. Abbey, a Fulbright Scholar with a master's in philosophy, was neither dense nor ignorant. He knew what was going on and chose to ignore and/or discount it.
During the fifty-year interim since, "Solitaire," things have certainly changed. Neither Moab nor the rest of Utah much resemble the ones he knew. Irvine states that by writing "Solitaire," having it published, Abbey brought about this crowding into, and desecration of, his beloved desert lands. He's to bear much of the blame, if not all of it.
Irvine holds her ownself accountable—she's nor more an angel or paragon than any of the rest of us. She shows displeasure in Abbey's womanizing ways, yet is upfront about her own three marriages and divorces, her own infidelities. In many other ways, she, too, has misbehaved greatly; and also when she aware of doing so, at the time. But because she's stepped outside the lines in similar ways as Abbey doesn't make the actions of either of them, okay. That said, it says much that Irvine considers this to be a "love letter," rather than a diatribe.
It's been over a decade since I read, Trespass, and reviewed it for a local monthly 'zine. So, I've been waiting too long a while (IMHO) for Irvine's "next book." While the desperation of my needs has been kept at bay by her occasional essays and anthology contributions, to now have Desert Cabal in my hands has balmed my decade-deep ache.
One more thing to love about this book is how it came to be published. Irvine was commissioned to provide an essay for an upcoming 50th Anniversary edition of, Desert Solitaire; but what resulted was book-length, and meant to stand on its own. With the assistance of Moab's Back of Beyond Books and Torrey House Press, and an on-line call for funding, Desert Cabal became a reality, bypassing the usual paths to publication; which is apropos for a book dealing with solitude.
Finally, I have to give a shout out to, Blake Spalding and Regina Lopez-Skunkwhite, who, respectively, wrote the foreword and afterword. As incredibly, skilled, and able a writer as Amy Irvine is, each of these two women make this love letter even more of a blessing.
March 1, 2019
what! this is the book i've been waiting for! I love it, absolutely love it. (or at least... I love most of it. More on that later.) I am more likely now to turn to this book than I am to desert solitaire. I did fall in love with that book when I read it but i’m glad someone is out there ready to call Edward Abbey out on the bullshit! Like calling him out on ignoring the work that the women in his life did so he could experience solitude. Or how solitude is a privilege that only men can afford. Or how his self-centered view of the desert reflects the same racism of the colonizers who stole the land from natives... THANK YOU. I will be passing this book along to everyone I know who has also read Desert Solitaire.
As far as what doesn’t sit right with me…. although Irvine talks about feeling isolated at the McMansion reading in Salt Lake City, using that story to illustrate the disconnection of “urbanites” compared to the humble farmers who live in small houses and operate a ranch, she entirely overlooks issues (including environmental) that concern the urban poor and homeless. She doesn’t seem to consider the fact that many people have to move out of rural areas, where they may be more connected to the land, into cities in order to get a job, access healthcare, go to school, etc. This pitting of either being a rancher in a rural town or being wealthy in a city glosses over everyone in between, and especially ignores the barriers to land ownership which reeks of the same privilege she (almost) seemed to be criticizing there...
Another issue...throughout the book she recognizes and speaks to the violence colonization has done to Native Americans, which I think is a baseline necessity for any environmental writer, but she ignores other instances of environmental racism, like when she talks about Mexicans ACROSS the border but doesn’t really talk about the Mexicans who are in the US. She talks about voting libertarian which shocked me—I would really like to invite Amy Irvine to read “Dark Money” and reconsider that political stance, especially if she considers herself an environmentalist...
But those issues aside, I’ll still give this a five-star rating because yes… this response is a good one. Solitude is nice if you can get it but we have no choice but to act together for our planet.
As far as what doesn’t sit right with me…. although Irvine talks about feeling isolated at the McMansion reading in Salt Lake City, using that story to illustrate the disconnection of “urbanites” compared to the humble farmers who live in small houses and operate a ranch, she entirely overlooks issues (including environmental) that concern the urban poor and homeless. She doesn’t seem to consider the fact that many people have to move out of rural areas, where they may be more connected to the land, into cities in order to get a job, access healthcare, go to school, etc. This pitting of either being a rancher in a rural town or being wealthy in a city glosses over everyone in between, and especially ignores the barriers to land ownership which reeks of the same privilege she (almost) seemed to be criticizing there...
Another issue...throughout the book she recognizes and speaks to the violence colonization has done to Native Americans, which I think is a baseline necessity for any environmental writer, but she ignores other instances of environmental racism, like when she talks about Mexicans ACROSS the border but doesn’t really talk about the Mexicans who are in the US. She talks about voting libertarian which shocked me—I would really like to invite Amy Irvine to read “Dark Money” and reconsider that political stance, especially if she considers herself an environmentalist...
But those issues aside, I’ll still give this a five-star rating because yes… this response is a good one. Solitude is nice if you can get it but we have no choice but to act together for our planet.
June 6, 2019
Desert Cabal, like the desert itself, is both big and spare, inviting the reader (and uncommunicative ghost of Edward Abbey) to respond, to fill in what looks like empty space, and to intuit meaning from materials both common and mind-blowing.
The concept of this very short book began as an introduction to a fiftieth anniversary edition of Abbey's seminal Desert Solitaire, a task that demanded brevity, humility, and perhaps worship. Amy Irvine, multiply qualified to serve up the appreciation, accepted the challenge and then threw back a challenge herself, delivering none of the above.
To bookseller Andy Nettel's everlasting credit, when the first version of the introduction he commissioned came back and was judged unacceptable as hagiography, he saw the potential for a reinterpretation of the classic—and more important, a statement about the great outdoors as chapel, playground, and repository of the same old male myths.
Recalibrating, he asked if Torrey House Press would be interested in publishing such a book, and a day later, Irvine was given the green light to pursue the new direction. I gather the text was written relatively quickly in a white heat, but the ideas had been bubbling for a decade, since Irvine published her memoir, Trespass: Living at the Edge of the Promised Land a decade before.
This new book—at 82 pages, a long introduction or a very short set of essays—is structured as a one-way dialogue with Abbey, arranged in brief chapters with the titles Abbey gave to Desert Soltaire. The device is less precious or pretentious than it sounds. Irvine is a sixth-generation Utahn, a former park ranger, a rock climber, and public lands activist, so she has earned the stripes to write about "Abbey country."
Desert Solitaire and The Monkey Wrench Gang made many readers passionate about the environment, Canyonlands, and the Colorado Plateau. They may not even discover this book, and those who do may not be happy to see themselves in Irvine's dour judgment about protecting public lands: "[I]t's getting harder to have a wild and reckless reckoning that has nothing to do with recreation."
I have not read a more firmly feminist take on my homeland. Desert Cabal is a slap upside the head with what should be obvious. Our views of the outdoors, despite a certain egalitarian respect for the most buff chicks, remain an expression of the same patriarchal attitudes and power trips that infect our general society. The wilderness and points surrounding are just as perilous for women as Cosby's dressing room and alleys outside urban dance clubs.
For all its virtues and insights, I'm not sure Desert Cabal will stand alone with readers who are not immersed in the west, have read Abbey, and hold at least sympathy for #metoo. But that is no reason to pass it by. Now that I've read it, I find myself challenged to go back and read Desert Solitaire again.
While Irvine's critique of Abbey might not be enough on its own for an intrepid book club, one could find much to new discuss by reading Desert Solitaire with this as a refreshing afterword.
The concept of this very short book began as an introduction to a fiftieth anniversary edition of Abbey's seminal Desert Solitaire, a task that demanded brevity, humility, and perhaps worship. Amy Irvine, multiply qualified to serve up the appreciation, accepted the challenge and then threw back a challenge herself, delivering none of the above.
To bookseller Andy Nettel's everlasting credit, when the first version of the introduction he commissioned came back and was judged unacceptable as hagiography, he saw the potential for a reinterpretation of the classic—and more important, a statement about the great outdoors as chapel, playground, and repository of the same old male myths.
Recalibrating, he asked if Torrey House Press would be interested in publishing such a book, and a day later, Irvine was given the green light to pursue the new direction. I gather the text was written relatively quickly in a white heat, but the ideas had been bubbling for a decade, since Irvine published her memoir, Trespass: Living at the Edge of the Promised Land a decade before.
This new book—at 82 pages, a long introduction or a very short set of essays—is structured as a one-way dialogue with Abbey, arranged in brief chapters with the titles Abbey gave to Desert Soltaire. The device is less precious or pretentious than it sounds. Irvine is a sixth-generation Utahn, a former park ranger, a rock climber, and public lands activist, so she has earned the stripes to write about "Abbey country."
Desert Solitaire and The Monkey Wrench Gang made many readers passionate about the environment, Canyonlands, and the Colorado Plateau. They may not even discover this book, and those who do may not be happy to see themselves in Irvine's dour judgment about protecting public lands: "[I]t's getting harder to have a wild and reckless reckoning that has nothing to do with recreation."
I have not read a more firmly feminist take on my homeland. Desert Cabal is a slap upside the head with what should be obvious. Our views of the outdoors, despite a certain egalitarian respect for the most buff chicks, remain an expression of the same patriarchal attitudes and power trips that infect our general society. The wilderness and points surrounding are just as perilous for women as Cosby's dressing room and alleys outside urban dance clubs.
For all its virtues and insights, I'm not sure Desert Cabal will stand alone with readers who are not immersed in the west, have read Abbey, and hold at least sympathy for #metoo. But that is no reason to pass it by. Now that I've read it, I find myself challenged to go back and read Desert Solitaire again.
While Irvine's critique of Abbey might not be enough on its own for an intrepid book club, one could find much to new discuss by reading Desert Solitaire with this as a refreshing afterword.
May 3, 2024
4.5
Irvine presents with such a ruthless yet persistent prose in response to the problematic, and also inspiring in his own right and time, Ed Abbey. She expertly utilizes various aspects of diverse storytelling as a form of stewardship, all while employing feministic and communal morals; shaping this as a fresh perspective on the damages of “rugged individualism” and human responsibilities of ecological care.
Irvine presents with such a ruthless yet persistent prose in response to the problematic, and also inspiring in his own right and time, Ed Abbey. She expertly utilizes various aspects of diverse storytelling as a form of stewardship, all while employing feministic and communal morals; shaping this as a fresh perspective on the damages of “rugged individualism” and human responsibilities of ecological care.
December 21, 2024
Girl ……… 😭 Not for me. Also if you took out the alliterations in here there would be no book left
(I’ve been such a hater lately I apologize)
(I’ve been such a hater lately I apologize)
December 20, 2019
I was prepared to not like this book. I was itching to despise it, truth be told, after reading multiple reviews and processing a fair amount of enthusiast teeth-gnashing, particularly from irksome youths drunk on the inebriating liquor that is today's political and social climate, claiming that Ms. Irvine "takes Abbey down," or "knocks the (fill in the appropriate pseudo-modernist, altermodernist, cosmodernist, digimodernist, metamodernist, performatist, post-digital, post-humanist, intersectionalist and/or post-postmodernist epithet) off his filthy fucking pedestal."
What, after all, is more satisfying than knocking icons--iconoclasts?--down a few pegs, particularly in this era of picking at our predecessors like vultures on the roadside (a simile the raptor-adoring Abbey would have enjoyed) and condemning them of yesterday's sins by the standards of today? What the most vehemently anti-Abbey apostles seem to miss is the humor, the hilarity and self-parody of his larger-than-life persona, and I feared that Irvine would deliver more of the same.
I was wrong, and found myself consuming this small volume in one grand gulp of an afternoon, sprawled out on a wooden patio chair under the same Appalachian sun beneath which Abbey came of age--a mile from his birthplace--my legs splayed, a cold beverage at hand (no, not beer, but sparkling water, in deference to the esophageal varices which had recently conspired to kill me, just as they'd killed Abbey 30 years before--the parallels only a little spooky). Instead of yet another shrill screed, Desert Cabal proved to be an artful, articulate, engaging, respectful and ultimately intimate reflection of the author and our times, with Abbey's Desert Solitaire as mirror. It bears mention that the idea of this book is not unprecedented, that Abbey himself authored an often-overlooked collection of interconnected essays called Down The River with H. D. Thoreau, in which Abbey reflects (a bit more acerbically than Irvine's tone) on the titular nature writer, whose spirit clearly informed Abbey and his now-classic Desert Solitaire--a book that Abbey often joked he'd hoped to title Desert Solipsism. No one ever accused Abbey of taking himself too seriously. Except, perhaps, for ranchers, developers, corrupt politicians, and a related cast of similar n'er-do-wells.
The verdict, after all that: not only is Desert Cabal: A New Season in the Wilderness, a welcome and valuable contribution to American literature that, on it's own terms, should not be missed, it is also an essential element of the bibliography of any Abbey enthusiast or completist. The same day that I finished Ms. Irvine's book, I purchased another by her, which should give an indication of my feelings toward this one.
What, after all, is more satisfying than knocking icons--iconoclasts?--down a few pegs, particularly in this era of picking at our predecessors like vultures on the roadside (a simile the raptor-adoring Abbey would have enjoyed) and condemning them of yesterday's sins by the standards of today? What the most vehemently anti-Abbey apostles seem to miss is the humor, the hilarity and self-parody of his larger-than-life persona, and I feared that Irvine would deliver more of the same.
I was wrong, and found myself consuming this small volume in one grand gulp of an afternoon, sprawled out on a wooden patio chair under the same Appalachian sun beneath which Abbey came of age--a mile from his birthplace--my legs splayed, a cold beverage at hand (no, not beer, but sparkling water, in deference to the esophageal varices which had recently conspired to kill me, just as they'd killed Abbey 30 years before--the parallels only a little spooky). Instead of yet another shrill screed, Desert Cabal proved to be an artful, articulate, engaging, respectful and ultimately intimate reflection of the author and our times, with Abbey's Desert Solitaire as mirror. It bears mention that the idea of this book is not unprecedented, that Abbey himself authored an often-overlooked collection of interconnected essays called Down The River with H. D. Thoreau, in which Abbey reflects (a bit more acerbically than Irvine's tone) on the titular nature writer, whose spirit clearly informed Abbey and his now-classic Desert Solitaire--a book that Abbey often joked he'd hoped to title Desert Solipsism. No one ever accused Abbey of taking himself too seriously. Except, perhaps, for ranchers, developers, corrupt politicians, and a related cast of similar n'er-do-wells.
The verdict, after all that: not only is Desert Cabal: A New Season in the Wilderness, a welcome and valuable contribution to American literature that, on it's own terms, should not be missed, it is also an essential element of the bibliography of any Abbey enthusiast or completist. The same day that I finished Ms. Irvine's book, I purchased another by her, which should give an indication of my feelings toward this one.
May 25, 2019
This book in a 21st century response to Edward Abbey's legendary Desert Solitaire; a book that ranks in my top two (it battles with Sagan's A Demon Haunted World and there is, of yet, no clear winner). I get what she is trying to do here. Abbey could be quite the ass; misogynistic, callous, xenophobic. And, yes, it is all true. But the anger Abbey drummed up is just as useful as the beauty his writing inspires; coupled together it can help frame an environmental ethic built of reason. Abbey words can fill one with the romance of the wild spaces but they help shape that love as a response to his assholiness as well (Who celebrates tossing a beer can out of the window because the landscape has already been so utterly ruined by the paved asphalt? That he himself utilizes while tossing said can?) Abbey was no saint and those that hold him as some prophet of the land are not only mis-characterizing him, but probably pissing off his ghost. So Irvine is right to address this directly. But it is not well realized. She is not a strong enough writer to pull it off. Invoking modernity like Twitter comes across as shallow and easy. Her imagining of a conversation with Ed at his grave also doesn't work here as the literary device she intends.
On the other hand, Abbey's works need to be challenged. They need to be reread! They need to be studied, pulled apart, argued and enjoyed. To that end, I do applaud and support her effort.
On the other hand, Abbey's works need to be challenged. They need to be reread! They need to be studied, pulled apart, argued and enjoyed. To that end, I do applaud and support her effort.
December 29, 2018
Part love letter, part feminist rant, part historical and sociological update on Utah’s canyon country, Irvine’s one-way conversation with Edward Abbey is a timely update on what a half century has wrought in Utah’s Red Rock country since the publication 50 years ago of one of my all-time favorite books – Desert Solitaire.
Eduardo Brummel’s 4-star review exactly matches my own feelings about this feisty little read of a landscape I fell in love with decades ago and have spent much time in and yes, it was partly Desert Solitaire that drew me to Arches initially. I am one of those heinous tourists who have come and helped overpopulate the landscape, though I do my best to tread lightly, always. But the simple presence of humans at all in this precious, precariously-fragile landscape is bound to slowly destroy it. It has been and is being loved to death, and Irvine does blame Abbey, in part, for creating the onslaught of humanity that is slowly ruining this landscape.
I enjoyed this quick read as will most women (I presume) who know this country. I’m honestly not sure if this read will much affect anyone not familiar with southern Utah’s canyon country.
Eduardo Brummel’s 4-star review exactly matches my own feelings about this feisty little read of a landscape I fell in love with decades ago and have spent much time in and yes, it was partly Desert Solitaire that drew me to Arches initially. I am one of those heinous tourists who have come and helped overpopulate the landscape, though I do my best to tread lightly, always. But the simple presence of humans at all in this precious, precariously-fragile landscape is bound to slowly destroy it. It has been and is being loved to death, and Irvine does blame Abbey, in part, for creating the onslaught of humanity that is slowly ruining this landscape.
I enjoyed this quick read as will most women (I presume) who know this country. I’m honestly not sure if this read will much affect anyone not familiar with southern Utah’s canyon country.
June 1, 2022
I really liked this short series of essays on the anniversary of Edward Abbey's death. Abbey, so revered by environmentalists and strong, independently minded outdoorspeople, had his darker side. Irvine grew up in Utah, with a more personal connection to Abbey and his coterie. He was not a #metoo gold star sort of guy. And, far from being the rugged individualist, he was at almost all times supported by women who got things done for him (isn't that almost always the case? I thought of Wordsworth, out romping through the daffodils, while three women kept house). Irvine seems to be sitting at Abbey's secret gravesite (is she really? not sure; doesn't matter), pouring whiskey for herself and libations upon that grave, while she rages and also eulogizes. For all that was wrong with Abbey, for all that the legend distorted the man, he was a brilliant writer, and he did a lot for the desert. Though also a lot to bring hordes of people in to trample it. Highly recommended!
January 18, 2019
Obviously, for those who have read, still read, might in the future read Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire, but also for those who were as deeply affected by the likes of Loren Eiseley (think spiders), Wendell Berry (conservation vs preservation or conservation and preservation), Barry Lopez (Desert Notes, especially), Ann Zwinger, and Terry Tempest Williams to name just a few. Philosophical, nostalgic, and political in almost equal measure, a challenge to the the present and the future by way of a sideways litcrit look at an old standard of the environmental movement. Irvine makes it deeply personal, too, as she acknowledges how deeply influenced she was by Abbey the myth, Abbey the legend, Abbey the author, Abbey the man. And how deeply important it may be to move beyond all that without losing it.
March 2, 2019
Courageous engagement with the sexist and xenophobic legacy of Ed Abbey in southwestern US environmentalism. Almost a séance, but Abbey’s ghost is a no show.
February 11, 2021
What I wrote after I went to a reading by Amy Irvine in ye olden days, the before times:
https://nursingclio.org/2019/04/11/wh...
https://nursingclio.org/2019/04/11/wh...
January 4, 2024
I haven't read Abbey for nigh on 25 years or visited the desert in almost that long, but I still appreciated Irvine's work in challenging and changing the scope of the environmental movement and response. Cabal usurps solitaire. Her love of a moon-eyed horse was a bonus for me.
May 1, 2025
No surprise here with the rating. This book is witty and well written. I loved the conversational aspect of it
December 21, 2024
She put some of my thinking about Edward Abbey into words and also provided me with some other points to think about with Abbey. I liked it. Wish it was a bit longer though
November 25, 2018
Amy Irvine talks directly to Edward Abbey on the 50th anniversary of Desert Solitaire’s publication.
December 4, 2018
My review of Desert Cabal in Catalyst Magazine.
December 16, 2019
Hard to review this - it definitely feels as though you are listening in on a (one-sided) conversation between the author and her muse. It therefore feels deeply personal, and like any conversation, the way she puts things may not be exactly perfect, but it is heartfelt and the message she wants to communicates is poignant and often urgent. I read this immediately after Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness and so her (entirely justified) criticisms of Abbey were easy to relate to their source. Overall, both works are by gifted writers desperate for humans to not destroy what little wilderness we have left, and the books make a haunting and affecting pair.
March 30, 2022
3.5 ⭐️. I definitely enjoyed this slim book. Irvine’s writing is beautiful and crisp. I loved the topic - a dialogue with Abbey (something I think many women have when reading his books!). But it felt unfinished to me? It only scratched the surface. It reminded me of how I tap off these thoughts, hit send, and be done (because they’re just for fun - not serious, or important). I wanted deeper thought and more exploration in each of the chapters - more anecdotes, just more? In some books, that wanting of “more” is a good thing and part of the joy. Here it felt like a lack? Still, a solid read, and I hope Irvine is just warming up!
December 3, 2018
Such an interesting idea for a book: a conversation with the long dead Edward Abbey about his classic Desert Solitaire. Unfortunately for the reader, Ms. Irvine is so full of man-hatred that her words seem to be spit off the page. This book could have been a love story, rallying the masses to join the efforts to protect/enjoy the desert. Instead this short treatise is a reflection of all the man hate inside the author's head.
August 15, 2019
I was already a fan of Amy Irvine's writing, but this exceeded my expectations. I love its economy and potency as a brief rejoinder to Abbey and a passionate call to reform environmentalism from within.
"To survive without turning into heartless monsters, or soul-sucked automatons, we'll need intimacy with people every bit as much as with place." Amen.
"To survive without turning into heartless monsters, or soul-sucked automatons, we'll need intimacy with people every bit as much as with place." Amen.
March 25, 2021
Flat out must read for anyone pondering public lands, a life outdoors, or a fan of Abbey. Raw and real and worth carrying in your back pocket for those hikes, jaunts, or bar room visits where reading something that evokes emotion is required.
November 25, 2022
A fitting homage - and in some ways answer to - Desert Solitaire. Would love to have seen more exploration of the Cabal(e) concept. Looking forward to reading more from Torrey House Press and Amy Irvine.
January 2, 2020
Amy Irvine is a writer of fierce conviction and a teacher of deep compassion and clarity. This extended essay, in the form of a mostly one-sided conversation with the beloved environmental writer, Edward Abbey, is both personal and universal. Irvine writes about loves and betrayals and losses, and about what still remains to be treasured.
“Our most precious resource now is wonder. What we wonder about ignites our imagination, unleashes our empathy, fuels our ferocity. We fold in on ourselves, a thunderous, galloping gathering, a passionate, peopled storm, nearly indistinguishable from the ground on which it rains, on which it sprinkles seeds. This is how hope takes root. What springs forth are monolithic possibilities.”
Her language is evocative, poetic, spare and harsh as the desert landscape. Some passages are confounding, inviting me to reread again and again until the gist sinks in. Though the places about which she writes are unfamiliar, I would go anywhere with her as a guide.
The writing unfolds as a series of scenes from her adventures and wanders in the wild. These are interspersed with statistics from contemporary politics and environmental realities. Irvine reminds us of the ways that Abbey’s beloved wild places are being overrun, damaged by the same masculinity-soaked entitlement that poisons everything else in our culture. She is also willing to touch on the tensions (sometimes violent and deadly) between native people and the privileged recreationists who stumble blindly onto their ancestral lands, now bedecked with the signage of national parks or monuments.
Irvine’s vignettes and stories build to a climax near the end, where she challenges Abbey’s decree that solitude is superior. No, Irvine questions whether solitude is even possible or advisable at this point in our history. “Ultimately, this is why I am here today: to invite you to join me in asking your followers to do away with their rugged individualism—which I never bought anyway. By nature, we are a cabal. A group gathered around a panoramic vision.”
By way of example, she offers a few hopeful glimpses of recovery—Monarch butterflies and wolves returning; states, cities, businesses and universities signing on the Paris Agreement. She closes by making the case for women in the movement. “Perhaps this is the way of women: we seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it’s the way of wilderness too—in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence.”
“Our most precious resource now is wonder. What we wonder about ignites our imagination, unleashes our empathy, fuels our ferocity. We fold in on ourselves, a thunderous, galloping gathering, a passionate, peopled storm, nearly indistinguishable from the ground on which it rains, on which it sprinkles seeds. This is how hope takes root. What springs forth are monolithic possibilities.”
Her language is evocative, poetic, spare and harsh as the desert landscape. Some passages are confounding, inviting me to reread again and again until the gist sinks in. Though the places about which she writes are unfamiliar, I would go anywhere with her as a guide.
The writing unfolds as a series of scenes from her adventures and wanders in the wild. These are interspersed with statistics from contemporary politics and environmental realities. Irvine reminds us of the ways that Abbey’s beloved wild places are being overrun, damaged by the same masculinity-soaked entitlement that poisons everything else in our culture. She is also willing to touch on the tensions (sometimes violent and deadly) between native people and the privileged recreationists who stumble blindly onto their ancestral lands, now bedecked with the signage of national parks or monuments.
Irvine’s vignettes and stories build to a climax near the end, where she challenges Abbey’s decree that solitude is superior. No, Irvine questions whether solitude is even possible or advisable at this point in our history. “Ultimately, this is why I am here today: to invite you to join me in asking your followers to do away with their rugged individualism—which I never bought anyway. By nature, we are a cabal. A group gathered around a panoramic vision.”
By way of example, she offers a few hopeful glimpses of recovery—Monarch butterflies and wolves returning; states, cities, businesses and universities signing on the Paris Agreement. She closes by making the case for women in the movement. “Perhaps this is the way of women: we seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it’s the way of wilderness too—in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence.”
November 2, 2022
"I see you. Batting your way through the tamarisk. I'm over here, knee-deep and failing in the quicksand. There are others, too. All of us glad to be out here. Gladder than hell to be stuck, disoriented, and thirsty. In love and alive. If only as dust in the wind."
My relationship now with Edward Abbey and his writing, as a relatively self-aware 31-year-old and lover of wild spaces, is complicated, to say the least. I feel I owe him a certain debt, as his words and rapturous depictions of wilderness were fond companions in my early years of becoming acquainted with my own connection to the outdoors. However, as I have aged and matured, I am frequently struck by the sexism, elitism, and racism (among other attributes) peppered throughout his writing and his rather cavalier attitude toward abusing public lands, as long as it was in the name of grand adventure (and he was the one committing such abuse). Irvine grapples with a similarly complicated relationship with this arrogant and rather peevish man and expresses it in a certainly more eloquent way than I could ever hope to achieve. Her engagement with Abbey's "spirit" (or interred corpse?) occasionally reads as corny, her proclamation that her daughter is more notable than other young women due to her lack of interest in lip gloss rubbed me the wrong way, and I do feel that she may have awarded Abbey more grace than he deserves, but regardless, Desert Cabal is insightful, plucky, and extremely important.
"With every new human added to our population, every new guidebook written, and every new place protected and promoted, it's getting harder to have a wild and reckless reckoning that has nothing to with recreation. And entertainment. That has everything to do with sensation. And salvation."
My relationship now with Edward Abbey and his writing, as a relatively self-aware 31-year-old and lover of wild spaces, is complicated, to say the least. I feel I owe him a certain debt, as his words and rapturous depictions of wilderness were fond companions in my early years of becoming acquainted with my own connection to the outdoors. However, as I have aged and matured, I am frequently struck by the sexism, elitism, and racism (among other attributes) peppered throughout his writing and his rather cavalier attitude toward abusing public lands, as long as it was in the name of grand adventure (and he was the one committing such abuse). Irvine grapples with a similarly complicated relationship with this arrogant and rather peevish man and expresses it in a certainly more eloquent way than I could ever hope to achieve. Her engagement with Abbey's "spirit" (or interred corpse?) occasionally reads as corny, her proclamation that her daughter is more notable than other young women due to her lack of interest in lip gloss rubbed me the wrong way, and I do feel that she may have awarded Abbey more grace than he deserves, but regardless, Desert Cabal is insightful, plucky, and extremely important.
"With every new human added to our population, every new guidebook written, and every new place protected and promoted, it's getting harder to have a wild and reckless reckoning that has nothing to with recreation. And entertainment. That has everything to do with sensation. And salvation."
April 11, 2023
Abbey's Desert Solitaire is one of my favorite books. I know, I know the problems with it. And I think that's what I love about Irvine's book. She isn't just lambasting Abbey. She isn't worshipping him... It's complicated.
Though I'm not a Utah native, I have spent many years in the West. I spent years living in Northern Utah, and also in Phoenix, AZ. Additionally, My grandmother is from Central Utah. I am an ex-Mormon. I spent much of my life True-Blue-Mormon, but also held some problems, especially with the way that the land is treated, with a lot of cognitive dissonance. ...Again, it's complicated.
That being said, I grew up in PA. (like Abbey). So, my experience with the west really related to Abbey's. I spent my life growing up in the thick woods. I grew up outside of Philly. My dad worked in a skyscraper. Anyway. This isn't about me...but a lot of my experiences absolutely influenced my experience with Irvine's book.
The books is short, a quick read. I will probably read it again and keep thinking. Now, more than ever, we need, as she suggests a "Cabal." We need books like this. And I believe that now, more than ever, we need a less masculine way of dealing with our Mother Earth.
Great book. My review does not do it justice. Just read the book. It won't take long, so save time reading these reviews, support your local library, or Moab's Back of Beyond Bookstore, and read this book!
Though I'm not a Utah native, I have spent many years in the West. I spent years living in Northern Utah, and also in Phoenix, AZ. Additionally, My grandmother is from Central Utah. I am an ex-Mormon. I spent much of my life True-Blue-Mormon, but also held some problems, especially with the way that the land is treated, with a lot of cognitive dissonance. ...Again, it's complicated.
That being said, I grew up in PA. (like Abbey). So, my experience with the west really related to Abbey's. I spent my life growing up in the thick woods. I grew up outside of Philly. My dad worked in a skyscraper. Anyway. This isn't about me...but a lot of my experiences absolutely influenced my experience with Irvine's book.
The books is short, a quick read. I will probably read it again and keep thinking. Now, more than ever, we need, as she suggests a "Cabal." We need books like this. And I believe that now, more than ever, we need a less masculine way of dealing with our Mother Earth.
Great book. My review does not do it justice. Just read the book. It won't take long, so save time reading these reviews, support your local library, or Moab's Back of Beyond Bookstore, and read this book!
July 16, 2021
This extended lyrical essay is a response to Edward Abbey's influential Desert Solitaire—a book I've never read. But that didn't lessen the experience of reading Amy Irvine's vivid, enraptured prose. I get the impression that Abbey was, or at least pretended to be, a rugged individualist type, and Irvine points to the throngs of obnoxious weekend warriors he inspired, Wall Street dudes who BASE jump from the red cliffs of Moab in their free time. Abbey is a kind of problematic fave for Irvine, who points out that in order to preserve the public land they both love, intersectional collaboration is urgently necessary. She writes specifically about her own work with Ute organizations to get Bear Ears declared a National Monument under Obama, only to see it decimated under Trump. Reading this, I often felt like I was missing context, in terms of geography, policy, and Irvine's own life. It all seems to be happening just off the page, but I didn't really mind. I have a lot to learn, and I want to learn it. I picked up this book in a tiny gift shop in tiny Torrey, UT, and read it as I traveled through Moab, Mesa Verde, and Southern Colorado/Northern Arizona. Which is the perfect if not easily replicable context in which to read it. I'm mostly a city girl, but Irvine's passion is contagious.
August 9, 2022
Earlier this year I decided to read more feminist authors and Amy Irvine didn't disappoint. In this book she discusses the mysongnistic and patriarchal aspects of Ed Abbey and calls into view his xenophobic and racist ideas about immigration.
I'm a long-time Ed Abbey fan, especially after reading his masterpiece A Desert Solitaire and Serpents Paradise, and yes Ed Abbey was not a perfect man. If he were alive today he would probably approve of Trump's Border Wall and even sympathize with MAGA! That said, Amy's voice (a woman's voice) comes across loud and clear from the wilderness and her zeal to defend public lands and open space.
One particular quote is very poignant that highlights the need to restore balance in the world.
“Perhaps this is the way of women: we seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it’s the way of wilderness too - in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence.” - Amy Irvine.
I fully believe that the salvation of the living world is in making sure that women have a seat at the table and that they are heard. We need those voices now more than ever.
I'm a long-time Ed Abbey fan, especially after reading his masterpiece A Desert Solitaire and Serpents Paradise, and yes Ed Abbey was not a perfect man. If he were alive today he would probably approve of Trump's Border Wall and even sympathize with MAGA! That said, Amy's voice (a woman's voice) comes across loud and clear from the wilderness and her zeal to defend public lands and open space.
One particular quote is very poignant that highlights the need to restore balance in the world.
“Perhaps this is the way of women: we seek not so much solitude as solidarity, intimacy more than privacy. But it’s the way of wilderness too - in a thriving ecosystem, integration matters far more than independence.” - Amy Irvine.
I fully believe that the salvation of the living world is in making sure that women have a seat at the table and that they are heard. We need those voices now more than ever.
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