Finding magic and inspiration in everyday things
Spirit Things, by Lara Messersmith-Glavin is a well-written and intriguing book that blends a unique personal history with a deep understanding of science and myths from across cultures into an unforgettable reading experience.
The author spent her childhood summers on a commercial fishing boat in Alaska, giving her an especially unique upbringing. She uses some of the common items that stood out to her from that time — salmon, nets, waves, etc. — to more closely examine her experiences and explore and explain the reality of the industry, all while adroitly weaving in fascinating asides about the science and art of fishing, the biology of fish, the ways of the tides, how we navigate, indigenous myths and the traditions of fishing and sailing cultures.
l picked up this book after meeting the author at a book festival in Astoria. And, ironically, I misplaced it for a while courtesy of a house remodel but luckily found it again in time to read on a little getaway back in Astoria. We were staying in a hotel right on the Columbia River and it was especially powerful reading about her memories of the fishing industry as commercial fishing boats passed back and forth.
The book is (pardon the pun) anchored in her experiences, mostly as a young child. She writes elegantly and confidently about the hardships and the community, the food her mom prepared, her father the captain, the rough but loving “family” crewing the ship, the hard work and brutal conditions and despite the grueling life on a fishing boat, the stolen moments of peace and beauty. While the descriptions of the fishing life are compelling, it’s in the tangents where the book really sings. Connecting her experience with facts and myths and insights that stretch out like a silken spiderweb from that formative childhood experience into something universal.
Spirit Things is not my usual cup of tea because I tend to find deeply personal ruminations a little too, well, personal. When authors delve too deeply into their own experiences, I often find myself on the outside looking in, wondering if I’m feeling it “correctly.” But Messersmith-Glavin is such a talented writer, skillfully navigating the line between introspective and inspiring, always with a powerful and poetic style that kept me engaged and hungry for more.
Consider the ruminations on navigational charts:
“The charts themselves were a swarm and scramble of lines and numbers, a busy chatter overlaid atop a picture of the water’s expanse. Like topography maps in reverse, the lines and shades told stories about depths and rocks and trenches, safe passageways and no-man’s lands and other more esoteric ways to break up the immensity of the ocean.”
I especially enjoyed the chapter on knots, which seem almost magical to a non-nautical person. Appropriately, we were staying in a hotel called The Bowline, and there was a framed print in our hotel room of common nautical knots. It was too perfect, and appreciated her meditation on how she has this vast, almost instinctive knowledge of arcane knots that amaze her friends on land but are usually only deployed to tie something to the top of a car.
One (very) minor disappointment is related to judging the book by its cover. The cover features an image of a knife and, as an obsessive knife lover, I assumed there would be a chapter about blades. There wasn’t.
That tiny point aside, this was a great read that gave me lasting insights into a previously unknown world of fishing boats dragging their nets through a tiny corner of the vast ocean, and their crews. And all from the unique perspective of “mundane” objects.
Highly recommend.