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House of Rain: Tracking a Vanished Civilization Across the American Southwest
A "beautifully written travelogue" that draws on the latest scholarly research as well as a lifetime of exploration to light on the extraordinary Anasazi culture of the American Southwest (Entertainment Weekly). The greatest "unsolved mystery" of the American Southwest is the fate of the Anasazi, the native peoples who in the eleventh century converged on Chaco Canyon (in today's southwestern New Mexico) and built what has been called the Las Vegas of its day, a flourishing cultural center that attracted pilgrims from far and wide, a vital crossroads of the prehistoric world. The Anasazis' accomplishments -- in agriculture, in art, in commerce, in architecture, and in engineering -- were astounding, rivaling those of the Mayans in distant Central America.By the thirteenth century, however, the Anasazi were gone from Chaco. Vanished. What was it that brought about the rapid collapse of their civilization? Was it drought? pestilence? war? forced migration? mass murder or suicide? For many years conflicting theories have abounded. Craig Childs draws on the latest scholarly research, as well as on a lifetime of adventure and exploration in the most forbidding landscapes of the American Southwest, to shed new light on this compelling mystery.
482 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2007
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About the author
Craig Childs
32 books407 followersCRAIG CHILDS is a commentator for NPR's Morning Edition, and his work has appeared in The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Men's Journal, Outside, The Sun, and Orion. He has won numerous awards including the 2011 Ellen Meloy Desert Writers Award, 2008 Rowell Award for the Art of Adventure, the 2007 Sigurd Olson Nature Writing Award, and the 2003 Spirit of the West Award for his body of work.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 365 reviews
June 23, 2009
Put your tongue forcefully into the side of your cheek and keep it there while you read this book—just to remind yourself most of what you are reading is conjecture and poppycock. But—and here’s the important part—you’ll have a hell of a good read! As I went from one exploit to another, I kept having doubts what I was reading was probably more fiction than fact. I have no doubt Craig trekked form Chaco to Aztec, and he flirted with the Ranger early in the morning, swam the San Juan, and continued hiking across the Colorado Plateau, then south—on and on. I do doubt he swam through Chaco, (Ever been there? Not possible.), made so many of his long walks with so little water, and found previously unknown archaeological sites. I like almonds but I am smart enough to carry food and water when I am hiking. This was a little too Discovery Channel ‘Survivor Man’ kind of thing that ultimately proves too distracting from the premise he is trying to make concerning the migration of the Anasazi (yes, I use that word all the time, get over it). The author has taken a lot of flack for this book, but the strange thing is—many scholars are coming around to the idea that the Ancient Ones actually did migrate south and not blend with the tribes descending from Alaska (what, you haven’t heard that one yet?). If you put your bullshit reading glasses on for this one and take the Dirk Pitt parts for what they are—flights of fantasy—this is very enjoyable. The author has a great eye for landscapes and an effusive vocabulary for describing his surroundings. That alone is worth the price of admission. He is also passionate, which makes his exaggerations tolerable.
May 4, 2018
There's a lot of the author in this book. I don't want to say it's full of humblebrags because that sounds a little antagonistic, but it's basically what I mean. And they do strain credulity a bit. But that's alright; if we're told that the author has crossed the southwest with a bottle filled with unfiltered pond water, can describe a long-dead person after a glance at their leftover femur, and has discovered more untouched archaeological sites than all the Leakeys put together, that's OK. I'm not one to let a little genial bullshit get in the way of a good story.
Given that, though I thought the good story was a little too well-hidden. I wanted to be reading the story of the Anasazi (using the author's term), but it often felt that I was reading the story of Craig Childs, interspersed with some anecdotes and conjecture about the Anasazi. That is, I had hoped he would be attempting to put together their story, rather than relating his own. Maybe that disappointment's on me, since the description and title are pretty honest.
It doesn't have a lot to do with my larger issue with the book, but I also felt that he was a little odd with his subjects. I thought the demythologizing of the Anasazi was one of the book's strong suits, but to my reading the author's interactions with modern Hopi had a bit more fetishization going on than I was necessarily comfortable with. But the author also seemed to be fetishizing himself throughout, so can I blame him for tacking the same way with other people?
It often felt like a much older book than it is; barring a few details, I wouldn't have been surprised to learn it was published in the '70s. I thought it was okay, with interesting parts in spite of itself.
Given that, though I thought the good story was a little too well-hidden. I wanted to be reading the story of the Anasazi (using the author's term), but it often felt that I was reading the story of Craig Childs, interspersed with some anecdotes and conjecture about the Anasazi. That is, I had hoped he would be attempting to put together their story, rather than relating his own. Maybe that disappointment's on me, since the description and title are pretty honest.
It doesn't have a lot to do with my larger issue with the book, but I also felt that he was a little odd with his subjects. I thought the demythologizing of the Anasazi was one of the book's strong suits, but to my reading the author's interactions with modern Hopi had a bit more fetishization going on than I was necessarily comfortable with. But the author also seemed to be fetishizing himself throughout, so can I blame him for tacking the same way with other people?
It often felt like a much older book than it is; barring a few details, I wouldn't have been surprised to learn it was published in the '70s. I thought it was okay, with interesting parts in spite of itself.
September 6, 2012
When I first began reading this book, I was irritated by how much of Craig Childs' personal story and opinions were interspersed among the really interesting archaeological digs in which he participated and in his unveiling of the history of the Ancestral Puebloans. But then I was remembered my favorite quote from The English Patient, "But you do not find adultery in the minutes of the Geographical Society," and my opinion suddenly softened.
Professors at the top of their fields have to be some of the most interesting and well-read people I've ever met. But when they write, it is seldom that they put any of their passion into their academic papers, and their many books seem dry and stale. I think that's why my favorite topical books post-grad school are almost always written by journalists. What Childs has done is make the history of the people of the southwest interesting. This in and of itself makes it worth the read. What's more remarkable is that he's infused the study of these ancient people with the personalities of the people who study them. I haven't read a better account of the rewards, perils and dedication is takes to do field work in any account that springs to mind. If one wants to do field work, and understand the passion that it takes to make it, I'd highly recommend it.
Professors at the top of their fields have to be some of the most interesting and well-read people I've ever met. But when they write, it is seldom that they put any of their passion into their academic papers, and their many books seem dry and stale. I think that's why my favorite topical books post-grad school are almost always written by journalists. What Childs has done is make the history of the people of the southwest interesting. This in and of itself makes it worth the read. What's more remarkable is that he's infused the study of these ancient people with the personalities of the people who study them. I haven't read a better account of the rewards, perils and dedication is takes to do field work in any account that springs to mind. If one wants to do field work, and understand the passion that it takes to make it, I'd highly recommend it.
June 15, 2022
“I wrote this book, setting out to find who the Anasazi were and what became of them. I traveled deeper into the land than ever before, hunting through villages where no one lives, looking for ancient walkways across the Southwest. I searched the history of these people to give this granary context, to return it to a place in time when a civilization danced across this desert like rain.“
Craig Childs goes off on foot, literally, traveling great distances in the desert to track people who lived in the Southwestern US and Mexico centuries ago, formerly called Anasazi, and now referred to as ancestral Puebloans. This book of non-fiction has many facets – travelogue, archeology, sociology, and nature writing. It is organized geographically by location. These locations contain a collection of ruins, including cliff dwellings, pot shards, baskets, signal stations, murals, bones, and other evidence of past occupants.
“We climbed to these towering cliff dwellings and walked awestruck through their rooms and hallways. Some buildings were three stories tall, cave ceilings black with wood smoke. With frayed parts of baskets on the floors and painted bits of murals peeling off the walls, they appeared not to have been touched for centuries. We felt as if we had walked into a lost Mesa Verde. Not for an instant were we unaware of the antiquity surrounding us.”
This is a beautifully written book. Readers will almost feel like they are accompanying Childs on his journeys. He provides a vivid sense of place through detailed descriptions. We get to know the people he met, foods he ate, and of course, the sights, sounds, and textures of the environment. It is one to be read slowly and savored.
To fully appreciate this book, I think it requires a firm interest in the subject matter. Childs experiences these regions first-hand, telling the reader about the locations, history, and scientific facts. He weaves it into an archeological adventure. The photos are a nice touch.
Craig Childs goes off on foot, literally, traveling great distances in the desert to track people who lived in the Southwestern US and Mexico centuries ago, formerly called Anasazi, and now referred to as ancestral Puebloans. This book of non-fiction has many facets – travelogue, archeology, sociology, and nature writing. It is organized geographically by location. These locations contain a collection of ruins, including cliff dwellings, pot shards, baskets, signal stations, murals, bones, and other evidence of past occupants.
“We climbed to these towering cliff dwellings and walked awestruck through their rooms and hallways. Some buildings were three stories tall, cave ceilings black with wood smoke. With frayed parts of baskets on the floors and painted bits of murals peeling off the walls, they appeared not to have been touched for centuries. We felt as if we had walked into a lost Mesa Verde. Not for an instant were we unaware of the antiquity surrounding us.”
This is a beautifully written book. Readers will almost feel like they are accompanying Childs on his journeys. He provides a vivid sense of place through detailed descriptions. We get to know the people he met, foods he ate, and of course, the sights, sounds, and textures of the environment. It is one to be read slowly and savored.
To fully appreciate this book, I think it requires a firm interest in the subject matter. Childs experiences these regions first-hand, telling the reader about the locations, history, and scientific facts. He weaves it into an archeological adventure. The photos are a nice touch.
July 8, 2015
Blows all to hell the idea of the simple savages, the peaceful primitives, the innocent indigenous, who occupied these lands before the arrival of the corrupt, diseased, greedy and murderous white men.
#1 Not simple. Rather brilliant in astronomy, hydrology and craftsmanship; not to mention the hunting and farming skills necessary to survive without grocery stores.
#2 Not peaceful. Evidence abounds of human sacrifice as part of religion, and massacres that were part of warfare between indigenous peoples.
#3 Not innocent. They were as complex as all human being are, with the heights of goodness and creation and the depths of depravity and destruction.
It seems that the cliff dwellings were security dwellings; makes sense right? Hard to find, hard to access, easy to spot invaders. The complexity and craftsmanship of the cliff dwellings is something to be marveled at.
There is this idea that the cliff dwellings were suddenly abandoned. This doesn't seem to be the case though. Death by massacre, death by drought and consequent malnutrition, desertion by migration, and the inevitable downfall, decay, destruction and rebirth that happens to all civilizations seem to be the reasons that the cliff dwellings became uninhabited. There are lots of pre-Columbian cliff dwellings in Northern Mexico and huge swaths of indigenous people in Northern Mexico died of diseases brought by the Spanish Conquistadors before Columbus ever landed on the American shores. Some of these dead indigenous were almost certainly migrants from what is now the Southwest United States.
The author sets out to trace the Anasazi, the cliff dwellers, the multi-ethnic indigenous people of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and northern Mexico. He takes us along as he walks, camps, climbs and explores the lands and dwellings of these pre-Columbian people. Travelogue and history lesson. I appreciated that the author is very respectful and careful with his explorations. He is not hunting artifacts, although he uses them to follow a trail, he is hunting history. I thought it was a good book.
#1 Not simple. Rather brilliant in astronomy, hydrology and craftsmanship; not to mention the hunting and farming skills necessary to survive without grocery stores.
#2 Not peaceful. Evidence abounds of human sacrifice as part of religion, and massacres that were part of warfare between indigenous peoples.
#3 Not innocent. They were as complex as all human being are, with the heights of goodness and creation and the depths of depravity and destruction.
It seems that the cliff dwellings were security dwellings; makes sense right? Hard to find, hard to access, easy to spot invaders. The complexity and craftsmanship of the cliff dwellings is something to be marveled at.
There is this idea that the cliff dwellings were suddenly abandoned. This doesn't seem to be the case though. Death by massacre, death by drought and consequent malnutrition, desertion by migration, and the inevitable downfall, decay, destruction and rebirth that happens to all civilizations seem to be the reasons that the cliff dwellings became uninhabited. There are lots of pre-Columbian cliff dwellings in Northern Mexico and huge swaths of indigenous people in Northern Mexico died of diseases brought by the Spanish Conquistadors before Columbus ever landed on the American shores. Some of these dead indigenous were almost certainly migrants from what is now the Southwest United States.
The author sets out to trace the Anasazi, the cliff dwellers, the multi-ethnic indigenous people of Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and northern Mexico. He takes us along as he walks, camps, climbs and explores the lands and dwellings of these pre-Columbian people. Travelogue and history lesson. I appreciated that the author is very respectful and careful with his explorations. He is not hunting artifacts, although he uses them to follow a trail, he is hunting history. I thought it was a good book.
June 29, 2013
"The House of Rain" by Craig Childs takes the reader to that wonderful intersection of science and emotion, understanding and lyricism, as the author hikes to a variety of sacred sites in the American Southwest, to trace the evolution and disporia of the Anasazi people.
It takes true talent to make the reader feel as though they are standing along side the author as he hikes across the desert, seeking out the silent ruins of ancient colonies, and spending his time there, listening for the whispers across time telling him who these people were, and how they lived together.
In the process of his journey by foot across the region, he runs into archeologists who have spent their lives digging, examining, and theorising about the Anasazi. His conversations with them add an element of science into the picture. But these conversations also give you perspective into the people who have dedicated their lives to advancing understanding of the Anasazi, who have been compelled to follow this passion of exploration, and who have their own passion leading them to write and dig and dream about this enigmatic civiliation which has left its footprint across the Southwest.
I highly recommend this book, it combines a memoire of his treks across the region, the current archeological theories, and the dreamlike imaginings of what these people of the desert were like in a seamless and compelling narrative. Please get a copy as soon as possible, this is a truly wonderful book!
It takes true talent to make the reader feel as though they are standing along side the author as he hikes across the desert, seeking out the silent ruins of ancient colonies, and spending his time there, listening for the whispers across time telling him who these people were, and how they lived together.
In the process of his journey by foot across the region, he runs into archeologists who have spent their lives digging, examining, and theorising about the Anasazi. His conversations with them add an element of science into the picture. But these conversations also give you perspective into the people who have dedicated their lives to advancing understanding of the Anasazi, who have been compelled to follow this passion of exploration, and who have their own passion leading them to write and dig and dream about this enigmatic civiliation which has left its footprint across the Southwest.
I highly recommend this book, it combines a memoire of his treks across the region, the current archeological theories, and the dreamlike imaginings of what these people of the desert were like in a seamless and compelling narrative. Please get a copy as soon as possible, this is a truly wonderful book!
April 21, 2019
I experienced this book under the perfect circumstances. My husband and I got it on audiobook to listen to as we drove from Denver to Flagstaff. Our journey took us through almost all of the landscapes the author describes. For a portion of the book it was almost uncanny how our traveling route matched up with the areas in the book. Of course, we didn't drive all the way into Mexico, so that cool coincidence stopped eventually. But it was really cool to be spying pronghorn antelope and giant sandstone monoliths just as the author was talking about ancient people living among them.
I used to work for a university press acquiring archaeology and anthropology books. During those eight years, I became very familiar with the archaeology of the American Southwest and Mesoamerica. I worked with a lot of archaeologists as their editor, and got to call some of them friends. So it was SO FUCKING COOL to hear their names in this book! The first time the author mentioned Steve Lekson, I was like "HEY I KNOW HIM!" I'm pretty sure that by the time we got through Barbara Mills, Sarah Herr, and Patty Crowne, my husband was tired of me freaking out every time one of my authors appeared in the book. But can I just say? Professional researchers and academics so rarely get their due. I was thrilled to hear them being lauded for their discoveries in a popular nonfiction book. These people work HARD, and the conditions they endure (read: desert heat, lack of water, the fucking jungles of Mexico) are sometimes super unpleasant. So shout out to my archaeos.
Let me get my major complaint out of the way early. The people commonly known as the Anasazi among people with only a basic understanding of ancient history and contemporary Native American cultural issues are the "main characters" of this book. But every archaeologist and anthropologist I've worked with has referred to these people as Ancestral Puebloans instead. This is because Anasazi is kind of a pejorative term given to these people centuries later by people who likely weren't their descendants. The Hopi, Pueblo, and Zuni all have different names for them, and as they are likely their descendants, they should be respected as the authority on how to name their ancestors. But as there is no consensus among them, the term Ancestral Puebloan has arisen as the least offensive, most accurate compromise. And the archaeologists I work with respect that term and use it instead of Anasazi. To his credit, the author addresses the naming debate in the book. And yet he still settles on calling them Anasazi. He's aware of the complex politics and sensitive cultural issue. But he still chooses to fuck up... because that's the more popular, widely known term? I was disappointed by this choice. The only way change happens is if we fucking do it ourselves. He had an opportunity to reeducate the masses on how to respectfully refer to these ancient people in light of the wishes of their descendants and he blew it.
But other than that, I really liked this book. Craig Childs has a great talent for writing, not only in the poetry of his prose, but in how he meshes a personal narrative with in-depth archaeological and historical teachings. It's part travelogue, part unsolved mystery, part anthropology lecture. And that's kind of my jam!
I get the feeling that I know Craig Childs now. Not only because of the personal nature of the book I just read, but because he feels like a familiar character living in the Southwest. I have a number of dirtbag friends who live out of vehicles and spend weeks or months at a time camping out solo in the backcountry. I spend loads of time in Moab and the Western Slope, and there are versions of this character everywhere. The weird, gentle backcountry traveler. Simultaneously annoying and captivating. I've made this dude take a shower before he slept on my couch for a night before driving off to some other backcountry adventure.
More importantly, I feel like I know the Ancestral Puebloans. I've always felt in reading about (and editing books about) them before that they are at a remove: much time is spent on their survival tasks and their rituals without contemplating their inner lives. But there's a moment in this book where the author speculates that grandmothers wood stand up from the work of milling corn to stretch their aching backs and I just thought, "Damn. They're us." Human beings haven't changed in thousands of years. We still get sore backs from hunching over work, we still play with children, we still get scared of outsiders.
It's like looking in a mirror from hundreds of miles away.
I used to work for a university press acquiring archaeology and anthropology books. During those eight years, I became very familiar with the archaeology of the American Southwest and Mesoamerica. I worked with a lot of archaeologists as their editor, and got to call some of them friends. So it was SO FUCKING COOL to hear their names in this book! The first time the author mentioned Steve Lekson, I was like "HEY I KNOW HIM!" I'm pretty sure that by the time we got through Barbara Mills, Sarah Herr, and Patty Crowne, my husband was tired of me freaking out every time one of my authors appeared in the book. But can I just say? Professional researchers and academics so rarely get their due. I was thrilled to hear them being lauded for their discoveries in a popular nonfiction book. These people work HARD, and the conditions they endure (read: desert heat, lack of water, the fucking jungles of Mexico) are sometimes super unpleasant. So shout out to my archaeos.
Let me get my major complaint out of the way early. The people commonly known as the Anasazi among people with only a basic understanding of ancient history and contemporary Native American cultural issues are the "main characters" of this book. But every archaeologist and anthropologist I've worked with has referred to these people as Ancestral Puebloans instead. This is because Anasazi is kind of a pejorative term given to these people centuries later by people who likely weren't their descendants. The Hopi, Pueblo, and Zuni all have different names for them, and as they are likely their descendants, they should be respected as the authority on how to name their ancestors. But as there is no consensus among them, the term Ancestral Puebloan has arisen as the least offensive, most accurate compromise. And the archaeologists I work with respect that term and use it instead of Anasazi. To his credit, the author addresses the naming debate in the book. And yet he still settles on calling them Anasazi. He's aware of the complex politics and sensitive cultural issue. But he still chooses to fuck up... because that's the more popular, widely known term? I was disappointed by this choice. The only way change happens is if we fucking do it ourselves. He had an opportunity to reeducate the masses on how to respectfully refer to these ancient people in light of the wishes of their descendants and he blew it.
But other than that, I really liked this book. Craig Childs has a great talent for writing, not only in the poetry of his prose, but in how he meshes a personal narrative with in-depth archaeological and historical teachings. It's part travelogue, part unsolved mystery, part anthropology lecture. And that's kind of my jam!
I get the feeling that I know Craig Childs now. Not only because of the personal nature of the book I just read, but because he feels like a familiar character living in the Southwest. I have a number of dirtbag friends who live out of vehicles and spend weeks or months at a time camping out solo in the backcountry. I spend loads of time in Moab and the Western Slope, and there are versions of this character everywhere. The weird, gentle backcountry traveler. Simultaneously annoying and captivating. I've made this dude take a shower before he slept on my couch for a night before driving off to some other backcountry adventure.
More importantly, I feel like I know the Ancestral Puebloans. I've always felt in reading about (and editing books about) them before that they are at a remove: much time is spent on their survival tasks and their rituals without contemplating their inner lives. But there's a moment in this book where the author speculates that grandmothers wood stand up from the work of milling corn to stretch their aching backs and I just thought, "Damn. They're us." Human beings haven't changed in thousands of years. We still get sore backs from hunching over work, we still play with children, we still get scared of outsiders.
It's like looking in a mirror from hundreds of miles away.
January 8, 2018
This is a wonderful book. I’ve traveled a lot in the four corners area where I have visited many Anasazi ruins myself, and Childs really has a feel for these deserts. He captures the sense of wonder and reverence that I always feel when I’m alone with an Anasazi ruin, and he explains the details of the old sites with both clarity and an exuberant enthusiasm. He paints beautiful pictures of what Anasazi life might have been like (there’s a lot of speculation in this book. This is necessitated by the prehistoric nature of his subject).
This is not a history of the Anasazi (no such thing is possible) nor is it a scholarly work of archeology. It’s a very personal book, steeped in archeology and the latest scholarship on the Anasazi, but ultimately it’s about the author’s attempts to understand these people as he travels across the landscape they once inhabited. It’s a dive into a mystery that can never be finally solved. It’s a lovely expression of the awe we feel when we are confronted with the relics of a vanished people.
This is not a history of the Anasazi (no such thing is possible) nor is it a scholarly work of archeology. It’s a very personal book, steeped in archeology and the latest scholarship on the Anasazi, but ultimately it’s about the author’s attempts to understand these people as he travels across the landscape they once inhabited. It’s a dive into a mystery that can never be finally solved. It’s a lovely expression of the awe we feel when we are confronted with the relics of a vanished people.
June 2, 2016
I liked the author's writing style a lot. It was very vivid. I also really enjoyed all the detail the author went into about the differences between different Native American cultures, which is something you don't see a lot of. And as someone who's spent time in Arizona and who got the whole "The Anasazi were here and then they were gone and it's all suuuuuuuuuuuper mysterious" spiel when I did the tourist thing, I appreciated just how far beyond that the author went.
But. Big but. I had a really hard time believing some of the things that happened to him specifically, such as swimming in a flash flood and his quest for water when he's traveling with his stepfather. Are they embellished? Are they made up completely? Maybe they're even accurate and I'm just being overly skeptical. I don't know. But my skepticism negatively affected how seriously I took some of the other information in this book and therefore how much I enjoyed it, even though I did find it very readable overall.
I really don't know how to rate this book because I have a lot of conflicting feelings about it, so I'm just giving up and giving it a 3. But that 3 doesn't really represent the fact that, unlike a lot of the other books I've read recently (including ones I've given higher ratings to), I'll probably keep thinking about this one.
But. Big but. I had a really hard time believing some of the things that happened to him specifically, such as swimming in a flash flood and his quest for water when he's traveling with his stepfather. Are they embellished? Are they made up completely? Maybe they're even accurate and I'm just being overly skeptical. I don't know. But my skepticism negatively affected how seriously I took some of the other information in this book and therefore how much I enjoyed it, even though I did find it very readable overall.
I really don't know how to rate this book because I have a lot of conflicting feelings about it, so I'm just giving up and giving it a 3. But that 3 doesn't really represent the fact that, unlike a lot of the other books I've read recently (including ones I've given higher ratings to), I'll probably keep thinking about this one.
February 13, 2014
Craig Childs' House of Rain chronicles his attempt to track the vanished members of the pre-Columbian civilization in the American Southwest often known as the Anasazi. Common wisdom has it that the people of the early pueblos simply walked out of their homes and vanished, but Childs details a more complicated--and satisfying--reality, in which people moved out of areas that could not sustain their lifestyle, adapting to changing circumstances and evolving into the Native American Pueblo tribes of today. The author combines curiosity and respectfulness as he investigates the monumental architecture left behind by these ancient people, and the accounts of his travels give the reader the feeling that they've walked those dry roads and canyons with him.
February 22, 2012
This is a great read for anyone interested in the South West - the land, the people, the history, the archaeology. Craig Childs follows the trail of the ancient puebloans known as the Anasazi from Chaco Canyon, north into Colorado and Utah, and south through Arizona into Northern Mexico. He walks, sometimes with his wife and baby, much of the way through the back country, giving the land and the history a most intimate feel. As a field archaeologist, as well as a writer, his work is up to date and knowledgeable, but is completely free of the jargon and polemics of modern archaeology.
August 2, 2007
This was pretty humdrum, despite the potentially exciting topic matter. The guy is pretty smug, and he does a lot of annoying things just because he feels he's more "in touch" with the Anasazi than the rest of us who live in citites and suburbs (e.g., breaking into Mesa Verde sites, paying park rangers to let him "wander" through certain Great Houses all day). He's kind of like a cut-rate Edward Abbey.
June 9, 2015
This was my third read of this mesmerizing and evocative journey around the Four Corners area and others parts of the American Southwest tracking the enigmatic "disappearance" of the Anasazi or Ancestral Puebloan people, who flourished in the 1100s - 1300s, developing a complex and integrated culture linked by roads, visual art, and agricultural practices, and by trading routes to Mesoamerica. At the height of their culture, building great houses across the Southwest several stories tall and containing hundreds or thousands of rooms, the culture seemingly collapsed, descending into violence. As the story goes, the Anasazi simply vanished.
The Ancestral Puebloan people are most known by their cliff dwellings such as those at Mesa Verde. Tucked into canyons and caves and remarkably preserved in the arid desert air, they dot the Four Corners area. Some appear as though they were abandoned yesterday. History is thin in the desert of the American Southwest, the author remarks. You can walk into a canyon and peer into a T-shaped window at the soot-stained ceilings of a plastered room and feel as though you were crossing centuries in a moment.
Childs is a product of the Four Corners area -- a wanderer. He walks for weeks in the heat of the desert or under the spiraling constellations of winter, visiting remote sites in an attempt to understand this complex culture that did not leave behind a written record. How did they live? And why did they "vanish"? Along the way he consults anthropologists and tribal elders (many of the tribal nations in the Southwest share an identity with the Ancestral Puebloans, complicating the narrative by non-Native anthropologists that these people "vanished"). But Childs relies mostly on his intuition, the feel of the land, patterns of thirst. Walking in these canyons with his book as a guide, this Minnesotan has gained a small measure of that intuition, a sense of the desert as a temporal landscape, respirating, breathing water in deeply and releasing it over time.
Within a couple of weeks of first reading this book, I was on a flight to Albuquerque, and spent a few days camping around Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and Hovenweep. I just reread this again in preparation for another visit later this month to this lonely and alluring landscape.
The Ancestral Puebloan people are most known by their cliff dwellings such as those at Mesa Verde. Tucked into canyons and caves and remarkably preserved in the arid desert air, they dot the Four Corners area. Some appear as though they were abandoned yesterday. History is thin in the desert of the American Southwest, the author remarks. You can walk into a canyon and peer into a T-shaped window at the soot-stained ceilings of a plastered room and feel as though you were crossing centuries in a moment.
Childs is a product of the Four Corners area -- a wanderer. He walks for weeks in the heat of the desert or under the spiraling constellations of winter, visiting remote sites in an attempt to understand this complex culture that did not leave behind a written record. How did they live? And why did they "vanish"? Along the way he consults anthropologists and tribal elders (many of the tribal nations in the Southwest share an identity with the Ancestral Puebloans, complicating the narrative by non-Native anthropologists that these people "vanished"). But Childs relies mostly on his intuition, the feel of the land, patterns of thirst. Walking in these canyons with his book as a guide, this Minnesotan has gained a small measure of that intuition, a sense of the desert as a temporal landscape, respirating, breathing water in deeply and releasing it over time.
Within a couple of weeks of first reading this book, I was on a flight to Albuquerque, and spent a few days camping around Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and Hovenweep. I just reread this again in preparation for another visit later this month to this lonely and alluring landscape.
November 7, 2025
I've long been mildly curious about the Anasazi culture and why they disappeared so completely, so I was excited to read Craig Childs' House of Rain: Tracking a Vanished Civilization Across the American Southwest. Two things I learned quickly is that, of course they didn't just disappear and not all indigenous people of the American Southwest appreciate the term "Anasazi culture." Ancestral Puebloans is currently the preferred terminology.
House of Rain is packed with archaeological details about the culture,one learns that they were far more than cliff dwellers and signs of them can be found all over the southwest.
Craig Childs is an interesting writer, has gripping tales of his adventures and is well versed in the landscape, and nature of the area. He is though not quite an everyday joe. Take for instance his decision to swim across a flash flood and this is just one example, but it is of course one of the things which makes the book such an interesting read.
If you are at all interested in the ancient indigenous culture of the southwest, I would suggest this book.
House of Rain is packed with archaeological details about the culture,one learns that they were far more than cliff dwellers and signs of them can be found all over the southwest.
Craig Childs is an interesting writer, has gripping tales of his adventures and is well versed in the landscape, and nature of the area. He is though not quite an everyday joe. Take for instance his decision to swim across a flash flood and this is just one example, but it is of course one of the things which makes the book such an interesting read.
If you are at all interested in the ancient indigenous culture of the southwest, I would suggest this book.
October 2, 2024
My 2nd time through and still love the journey
September 4, 2024
I’m a fan of adventure writers who take me places I don’t have the guts or physical capabilities to visit myself. I just finished books by two of them, writers who explored ruins left behind by some of earliest Americans, aka the Pueblo Ancestors/Old Ones/Anasazi et al. This is a joint review of “The Lost World of the Old Ones: Discovers in the Ancient Southwest,” by David Roberts, published in2015, and “House of Rain: Tracking a Vanished Civilization Across the American Southwest,” by Craig Childs, published in 2007.
These guys are more than a little nuts, climbing canyon walls, inching along narrow ledges, braving 100-plus degree heat or snow, risking dehydration—sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of others, even occasionally small children.
For them it’s all about experiencing the sites and imagining the activities and the emotions of the people who lived in these now crumbling ruins 700 to 1,000 years ago. They find many, many beautiful petroglyphs , thousands of potsherds and sometimes lovely objects. But importantly, they say they never take anything other than photographs. In their heyday, these were some of the largest cities in the world, home to thousands of people, including master builders and expert astronomers, who grew crops and hunted game and, when necessary, moved into the high cliffs for safety.
Both writers interview archaeologists and discuss the competing theories about what made the old ones leave. The sites were abandoned at different times and there is evidence of people moving from one site to another. It’s widely believed some combination of drought, hostilities and collapse of the social order prompted the migrations. Roberts and Childs are both particularly interested in and attempt to follow The Chaco Meridian, a longitude line that intersects several of the most important sites and along which can be found the ruins of signal towers. Some of these people became the ancestors of present-day Pueblo people, including the Hopi and Zuni. It’s still a matter of controversy whether some of them followed the Chaco Meridian all the way to Mexico.
I found these books to be fascinating and well written. Roberts’ is more accessible in that it’s shorter (309 pages versus 466) and has better pictures. Childs is heavier on description and emotion and provides a helpful glossary. I think Childs is also a bit crazier—At one point he jumps into a flash flood as a way to get to his destination faster (highly dangerous.) In addition to hunting the ancients, Roberts recounts his search for the hideout the Hoskinini used to evade the government troops that forced thousands of Navajo to walk 300 miles to an internment camp. (The Navajo are not related to the pueblo people.)
I won’t remember it all, but I enjoyed reading about the adventures as well as the explanations of the clues left behind—the different pottery styles and carbon dating of wood.
These guys are more than a little nuts, climbing canyon walls, inching along narrow ledges, braving 100-plus degree heat or snow, risking dehydration—sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of others, even occasionally small children.
For them it’s all about experiencing the sites and imagining the activities and the emotions of the people who lived in these now crumbling ruins 700 to 1,000 years ago. They find many, many beautiful petroglyphs , thousands of potsherds and sometimes lovely objects. But importantly, they say they never take anything other than photographs. In their heyday, these were some of the largest cities in the world, home to thousands of people, including master builders and expert astronomers, who grew crops and hunted game and, when necessary, moved into the high cliffs for safety.
Both writers interview archaeologists and discuss the competing theories about what made the old ones leave. The sites were abandoned at different times and there is evidence of people moving from one site to another. It’s widely believed some combination of drought, hostilities and collapse of the social order prompted the migrations. Roberts and Childs are both particularly interested in and attempt to follow The Chaco Meridian, a longitude line that intersects several of the most important sites and along which can be found the ruins of signal towers. Some of these people became the ancestors of present-day Pueblo people, including the Hopi and Zuni. It’s still a matter of controversy whether some of them followed the Chaco Meridian all the way to Mexico.
I found these books to be fascinating and well written. Roberts’ is more accessible in that it’s shorter (309 pages versus 466) and has better pictures. Childs is heavier on description and emotion and provides a helpful glossary. I think Childs is also a bit crazier—At one point he jumps into a flash flood as a way to get to his destination faster (highly dangerous.) In addition to hunting the ancients, Roberts recounts his search for the hideout the Hoskinini used to evade the government troops that forced thousands of Navajo to walk 300 miles to an internment camp. (The Navajo are not related to the pueblo people.)
I won’t remember it all, but I enjoyed reading about the adventures as well as the explanations of the clues left behind—the different pottery styles and carbon dating of wood.
August 31, 2013
This is my first Craig Childs book. I picked it up after touring the Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde because I buy books wherever I am at, so I can keep the landscapes fresh in my mind.
This book has taken me far beyond the Colorado Plateaus ... it has taken me all over a place that I didn't have an interest in before. This book not only describes the land, it describes a vanished culture/people/way of life that I had never heard of. Childs took me on a journey that I will never forget.
Not only is Childs a good story-teller, he is one of the best writers I have yet to read. His style is lyrical and thought-provoking. He starts out with an incident, wanders off to a different topic that is still related to the incident and then wraps up the paragraph/chapters with the first incident. He takes you in places that you would never have thought about ... he carries you along the history of time in such a way that you can't help but be haunted by it. At the same time, he presents conflicting facts/theories among archeologists in a way that one can't help but think over.
It is purely a fascinating book. I have found myself sharing tidbits of it with my husband as it is a book that is meant to be shared.
I am anxious now to get my other Craig Childs books that have been mailed to my mom while we were on vacation. He is definitely one of my favorite writers to pursue.
This book has taken me far beyond the Colorado Plateaus ... it has taken me all over a place that I didn't have an interest in before. This book not only describes the land, it describes a vanished culture/people/way of life that I had never heard of. Childs took me on a journey that I will never forget.
Not only is Childs a good story-teller, he is one of the best writers I have yet to read. His style is lyrical and thought-provoking. He starts out with an incident, wanders off to a different topic that is still related to the incident and then wraps up the paragraph/chapters with the first incident. He takes you in places that you would never have thought about ... he carries you along the history of time in such a way that you can't help but be haunted by it. At the same time, he presents conflicting facts/theories among archeologists in a way that one can't help but think over.
It is purely a fascinating book. I have found myself sharing tidbits of it with my husband as it is a book that is meant to be shared.
I am anxious now to get my other Craig Childs books that have been mailed to my mom while we were on vacation. He is definitely one of my favorite writers to pursue.
May 31, 2015
Each time I return for a visit to New Mexico (where I lived for six years), some stray fact or idea about the Anasazi will rekindle my interest in them. I think for a lot of people in New Mexico (or people who've spent time there), we're trained to stop and read anytime we spot the word "Anasazi" and see what new morsel of information might have been added to the mystery. I've been to Chaco, etc., and tend to forget most of what I've gleaned and read over the years. On vacation in Santa Fe earlier this year, I saw Craig Childs's "House of Rain" in a bookstore and wondered how come I'd never read it, so I bought it. I liked the approach, which is personally narrated, but about halfway through I grew tired of the meandering nature of the book. I kept putting it down and would go several days before picking it up again -- more than a month has gone by since I started it; I admit I skimmed the last 100 pages or so. It didn't hold me rapt, but it's a good read for people who'd like to know more about the Anasazi mystery but wouldn't want to read something academic and dry. Parts of it are very lovely, but I'm not sure Childs needed to stretch it out as long as he did.
April 26, 2012
This is one of my new favorite books and one of my new favorite authors. House of Rain delves into one of the great mysteries of the Americas, the "disappearance" of the ancient pueblo dwellers of the Southwest. Sometimes called the "Anasazi", more recently referred to as Ancestral Puebloans, Childs tracks the history and the people across time. This is a fascinating journey, with solid roots in current archaeology which he seamlessly blends into a much broader understanding. The events that took place in the American Southwest during three consecutive droughts of the 11th, 12th and finally 13th century are laid out so that rather than view in isolation (like Mesa Verde or Chaco Canyon alone) are woven together for a much greater picture of ancient Native American people and the cultures that existed before the arrival of the Spanish. He writes in a very accessible way, so that we laypeople can understand the import and value of the various archaeological findings that have added to the understanding of that pre-history. Now I have to get his other books....
February 18, 2023
This book was unfortunately such a chore to get through that I finally abandoned it about 80 pages from the end. The main issue is it isn’t a history of the ancient Puebloan people, which is what it sounded like it was going to be. It’s rather a travelogue of the author describing his endless walking or driving to the archaeological sites, camping nearby, going through the sites and picking up and putting down pottery shards while he walks through, chats with some archaeologists along the way, and throws out his own fairly wild and often baseless theories or speculations about what happened there. The author, I should point out, is not a historian or archaeologist. But sure seems to think he’s a wizard at uncovering ruins that no one else (but him naturally), has ever seen in hundreds of years. Some of his descriptions of the ancient or modern indigenous peoples felt really pretty dated.
October 2, 2013
This book is a total delight. Childs is a wonderful writer, combining scientific analysis with an amazing journey across New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, Arizona and Mexico in search of answers to the mysteries of the Anasazi. He knows his subject inside-out (he is an archeologist) he grew up the region and loves it deeply, and he demonstrates the route he proposes for migration by walking it. Highly recommend!
February 17, 2018
Throughout the southwest United States and northern Mexico there are ruins from a people long gone, people remembered as the Anasazi. The name is not theirs; it was applied by the Apache later on, and has a mocking connation - -the old ones, the rotten ones, the defunct ones. The ruins of Cliffside dwellings, abandoned signal towers, and brightly colored ceramics reveal a technically accomplished people, one whose lore contained information gleaned from hundreds of years of close observations: their sites often incorporate features which mark astronomical events, events that no doubt played a part in their mythos. Who were these people, and why did they leave?
Well, they didn’t, says Craig Childs. Or at least, it’s inaccurate to say they planted their flag in New Mexico and Arizona and such places, and then for some reason decided to abandon their ancestral homes. In search of answers, Craig Child hiked and drove throughout the Southwest, venturing far off the beaten track by himself or with archaeology students, to study the land, the light, and these spaces which remain to absorb what understanding can be had. Many of the people he walked with were specialists in the region -- archaeoastronomers, say, or those who can identify the region that preserved wood or pottery came from by their chemistry,
Findings from archaeological digs indicate that this was a fluid population, one that frequently moved in response to environmental stresses. The rivers of this region are fickle, alternatively flooding and vanishing The transient ancients were following the water, and an interior nether-world of gods – a place beneath the soil where water was plentiful but released slowly in mountain streams or sudden springs -- appears to have been on their mind. Ritual appears to have had a role in their leaving, as well: some sites are thought to have been torched deliberately, by the inhabitants, rather than destroyed in war. Some of their locations appear to have been settled communities, while others were mere migrant camps that could not have supported a large population, but were used as a short-term residence. Eventually these people dispersed in their travels to become the various pueblo peoples, like the Hopi.
House of Rain is neither a travel guide nor a. The full story will never be known, though parts can be garnered by studying what was left behind and other pieces are locked away in the lore of native peoples who (for good reasons) do not wish to share their oral histories with outsiders – even outsiders as serious and respectful as Childs. Childs is a native son of the southwest who traveled extensively within it before writing this book, and the amount of contacts he nursed before engaging in this project reveals his sincere interest in the subject. House of Rain isn’t a novelty travel guide – “Ghost Towns of the Ancient West!” – but the chronicle of one man pursuing his passion, to learn as much as he could about those who lived in and loved the same landscape he did. Those who find the mountains and vistas of the Four Corners enchanting will appreciate this tour of a civilization that was.
Well, they didn’t, says Craig Childs. Or at least, it’s inaccurate to say they planted their flag in New Mexico and Arizona and such places, and then for some reason decided to abandon their ancestral homes. In search of answers, Craig Child hiked and drove throughout the Southwest, venturing far off the beaten track by himself or with archaeology students, to study the land, the light, and these spaces which remain to absorb what understanding can be had. Many of the people he walked with were specialists in the region -- archaeoastronomers, say, or those who can identify the region that preserved wood or pottery came from by their chemistry,
Findings from archaeological digs indicate that this was a fluid population, one that frequently moved in response to environmental stresses. The rivers of this region are fickle, alternatively flooding and vanishing The transient ancients were following the water, and an interior nether-world of gods – a place beneath the soil where water was plentiful but released slowly in mountain streams or sudden springs -- appears to have been on their mind. Ritual appears to have had a role in their leaving, as well: some sites are thought to have been torched deliberately, by the inhabitants, rather than destroyed in war. Some of their locations appear to have been settled communities, while others were mere migrant camps that could not have supported a large population, but were used as a short-term residence. Eventually these people dispersed in their travels to become the various pueblo peoples, like the Hopi.
House of Rain is neither a travel guide nor a. The full story will never be known, though parts can be garnered by studying what was left behind and other pieces are locked away in the lore of native peoples who (for good reasons) do not wish to share their oral histories with outsiders – even outsiders as serious and respectful as Childs. Childs is a native son of the southwest who traveled extensively within it before writing this book, and the amount of contacts he nursed before engaging in this project reveals his sincere interest in the subject. House of Rain isn’t a novelty travel guide – “Ghost Towns of the Ancient West!” – but the chronicle of one man pursuing his passion, to learn as much as he could about those who lived in and loved the same landscape he did. Those who find the mountains and vistas of the Four Corners enchanting will appreciate this tour of a civilization that was.
June 20, 2021
3.5. Craig Childs is absolutely a gifted writer, storyteller, and modern explorer, and the content of House of Rain--a closer look at the lives of the people who first called the American Southwest their home--is required reading for anyone currently living in these areas.
I'm conflicted about this book, because what I appreciated about the book was also what made it slog, what irritated me. Childs has a great way of weaving his own stories of adventure with the historical facts he presents and makes these historical facts feel real--instead of just listing pottery types and speculative traditions and cultural traits, he has a keen ability to send the reader back 800 years, make them feel as if they are in the ruins he describes, watching the vivid lives led by the Ancestral Puebloan people. As someone living and working on these lands, I did appreciate the way Childs frames the people he writes about not as a long-gone, hazy distant relic of the past, but as culturally vibrant as our own society today. I think literature like this is important in undoing the colonialist lies we were told as children--that the people who lived here before Europeans were sparse and primitive. House of Rain, like 1491, does accomplish a little of the work needed to re-educate us about who truly lived here before us, who's land we're on, who the people were we massacred.
But my irritation with the book, and its slow, meandering pace also comes from Child's insistence in writing the whole book, the whole narrative of Ancestral Puebloan history, through the lens of his own valient adventures on their land, his own sometimes perverse-feeling curiosity, his own romantic, almost fetish-izing view of the ancient past. While he does talk a bit about indigenous populations still living on the land, and the ties between these modern communities and the "vanished" civilizations he's tracing, he never seems quite as interested in these interactions. Perhaps because interacting with modern indigenous communities doesn't involve quite as much adventure, which it seems like half the book's substance and Child's fascination comes from. Perhaps because it's harder to romanticize. And also perhaps because, as Childs notes, often times these communities wish to keep their privacy about their culture, and its easier to pry into the lives of people no longer living. That the whole book is framed around the question of "what happened to these ancient people?" and that Childs does not provide the immediate, upfront answer "they're still here, and maybe we should care about them as much we do their ancestors," feels like a massive missed opportunity and irresponsiblity.
So I'm conflicted. I did learn a lot about the many Ancestral Puebloan peoples, but I also learned more than I wanted to know about Childs' own adventures. While it sometimes made the narrative richer and interesting, it also made it slog on. After the 18th description of Childs bushwacking through the wilderness I was pretty over it. It felt like I had to read 5 pages about Childs to get 1 page on the people he's writing about, and even then it was often conjecture and romanticized.
I'm not sure if I'd recommend this or not. I think I'd try other books on the topic first.
I'm conflicted about this book, because what I appreciated about the book was also what made it slog, what irritated me. Childs has a great way of weaving his own stories of adventure with the historical facts he presents and makes these historical facts feel real--instead of just listing pottery types and speculative traditions and cultural traits, he has a keen ability to send the reader back 800 years, make them feel as if they are in the ruins he describes, watching the vivid lives led by the Ancestral Puebloan people. As someone living and working on these lands, I did appreciate the way Childs frames the people he writes about not as a long-gone, hazy distant relic of the past, but as culturally vibrant as our own society today. I think literature like this is important in undoing the colonialist lies we were told as children--that the people who lived here before Europeans were sparse and primitive. House of Rain, like 1491, does accomplish a little of the work needed to re-educate us about who truly lived here before us, who's land we're on, who the people were we massacred.
But my irritation with the book, and its slow, meandering pace also comes from Child's insistence in writing the whole book, the whole narrative of Ancestral Puebloan history, through the lens of his own valient adventures on their land, his own sometimes perverse-feeling curiosity, his own romantic, almost fetish-izing view of the ancient past. While he does talk a bit about indigenous populations still living on the land, and the ties between these modern communities and the "vanished" civilizations he's tracing, he never seems quite as interested in these interactions. Perhaps because interacting with modern indigenous communities doesn't involve quite as much adventure, which it seems like half the book's substance and Child's fascination comes from. Perhaps because it's harder to romanticize. And also perhaps because, as Childs notes, often times these communities wish to keep their privacy about their culture, and its easier to pry into the lives of people no longer living. That the whole book is framed around the question of "what happened to these ancient people?" and that Childs does not provide the immediate, upfront answer "they're still here, and maybe we should care about them as much we do their ancestors," feels like a massive missed opportunity and irresponsiblity.
So I'm conflicted. I did learn a lot about the many Ancestral Puebloan peoples, but I also learned more than I wanted to know about Childs' own adventures. While it sometimes made the narrative richer and interesting, it also made it slog on. After the 18th description of Childs bushwacking through the wilderness I was pretty over it. It felt like I had to read 5 pages about Childs to get 1 page on the people he's writing about, and even then it was often conjecture and romanticized.
I'm not sure if I'd recommend this or not. I think I'd try other books on the topic first.
March 24, 2022
A slow, thoughtful book - just like the author's slow trek to trace the history of this "vanished" civilization. He walks from Chaco Canyon in New Mexico up along the Colorado Plateau, tracing the route of the Anasazi/Ancestral Pueblo people.
I was first intrigued by this story last summer when we visited the cave dwellings in Bandolier and Mesa Verde National Parks. I was captivated - where did this thriving civilization go?
While parts of Childs' travelogue stretch the imagination (really, you swam across a canyon during a flash flood?), it's quite a tale, bringing in history, art (tracing migration via pottery), religions, archaeology, and all the different theories. He explores the region on foot, pointing out that humanity was much more mobile through this "flyover region" before the roads took us out of the wilds - preserving a lot of artifacts and dwellings.
This book left me thinking about how humans migrate, and how we STILL do so, and what clues we leave behind in the process.
I was first intrigued by this story last summer when we visited the cave dwellings in Bandolier and Mesa Verde National Parks. I was captivated - where did this thriving civilization go?
While parts of Childs' travelogue stretch the imagination (really, you swam across a canyon during a flash flood?), it's quite a tale, bringing in history, art (tracing migration via pottery), religions, archaeology, and all the different theories. He explores the region on foot, pointing out that humanity was much more mobile through this "flyover region" before the roads took us out of the wilds - preserving a lot of artifacts and dwellings.
This book left me thinking about how humans migrate, and how we STILL do so, and what clues we leave behind in the process.
March 19, 2025
A 4 - Makes me think about more than just the book
Fascinating to think about this american culture. The clues are strong that it was complex and sophisticated. The book helps me to think about what motivated them; religion, food, other cultures. It helps me to reflect about what motivates us today.
Book follows author tracing the steps forward in time from chaco canyon for this people and where and potentially why they moved.
Fascinating to think about this american culture. The clues are strong that it was complex and sophisticated. The book helps me to think about what motivated them; religion, food, other cultures. It helps me to reflect about what motivates us today.
Book follows author tracing the steps forward in time from chaco canyon for this people and where and potentially why they moved.
October 25, 2012
Rain and the desert: polar opposites, at least to most people. Say the word desert in a crowd of people from a temperate climate, and immediately images of saguaro catci, bleached cow skulls, rattlesnakes, sand dunes, and sombreros come to mind. Dig a little deeper, and some people might think of the distant Native Americans, guiltily mumbling about how white people forced them onto godforsaken spits of land that nobody else wanted. What might surprise the average observer is that those people (the Apache, the Navajo, the Hopi, the Zuni, and many others) have lived in those lands for thousands of years and love it like their own blood. It may be harsh land, but it's their heritage.
Craig Childs's expose on the world of the Anasazi (or, more properly, the ancestral Puebloans) dispels many of the cliche tourist assumptions that Americans may have about the previous owners of our land. With a slow, respectful voice in deference to the secrets of the world around him, Childs quietly follows in the footsteps of a people who left their worlds behind them as a manner of living, tracing their history through only broken pots and tumbled walls.
House of Rain is a bifurcated novel: the main "story" follows Childs's physical pilgrimage across the migratory trails of the pre-Columbian Anasazi, and as he uncovers ruins and artifacts, he divulges his wealth of accumulated archaeological research. He begins in the New Mexican Chaco Canyon, where a great religious and commercial civilization flourished over a thousand years ago. He introduces us slowly to the terminology and basic architecture that these people used, then moves on to the next site at Fajada Butte, taking us along a journey that has long been misread, dusted over and ignored in favor of a more mysterious, though ultimately incorrect, theory.
According to popular mythology, the Anasazi were a people that lived in the Four Corners area of southwest Colorado and northeastern Arizona, constructing the impressive sites of Mesa Verde and Kayenta. On a visit to Mesa Verde, an ordinary tourist will be taken down into some of the breathtakingly complete and preserved cliff dwellings, leaning down into kivas and beholding intact wooden ladders from the 13th century. A tour guide will tell them that these people took refuge in the cliffs from an unknown enemy, possibly the Apache or the Navajo, and only occupied these dwellings for 80 to 100 years before suddenly vanishing without a trace. The guides cite the presence of full baskets of food, personal effects, and ceremonial artifacts as evidence that the people had no chance to collect themselves before disappearing.
This is not the truth, according to Childs. His research and experience have shown him time and time again that the Anasazi were a migratory people, who regularly used a pattern of abandoning structures and following the rain and drought cycle to preserve their way of life.
With extensive research and remarkable personal physical effort, the author takes us on a visceral, sensitive walk along a road that people traveled long ago, tracing the footsteps of a people not entirely gone. Along the way, he makes the point that there still are descendents of the ancestral Puebloans along this road: the Hopi still occupy their ancestral lands, the Navajo are linked to the mountains of their reservation, and people in the Paqime region of northern Mexico are familiar with the migrants' history. They are not gone, Childs concludes; they are simply dusted over with the passage of time.
His own journey drives this point home. Childs is no droll scientist sashaying into writing: his voice is clear, piercing, and in some places moving, bringing to life the dusty places that he stands. His passion for archaeology and the American Southwest pervades the novel, imbuing the words with a meaning other than simple information. That is the true beauty of this book: it is not just a dry recitation of facts. By throwing himself completely into his work, Childs has brought a possibly boring topic to life, enabling his findings to draw in even casually interested readers into a long-lost tale of a people long forgotten.
Although he does stray into sometimes long and dull passages rife with tangential information, the author never loses track of where he stands. One interesting and possibly unintentional beauty of the book is the fact that he brings his wife Regan and toddler son Jasper with him on parts of the adventure. Perhaps it was practical and coincidental, but by bringing such vivid pictures of life into these places long dead, he illustrates a point: the cycle goes on. Even if a civilization vanishes, life has not ended, and there will always be people chasing the rain, adjusting their lives to what is given.
Fascinating, comprehensive, and understandable even for a stranger to archaeology, House of Rain's 445 pages are a fantastic trip through a land that few modern Americans see: the bare deserts of the central Southwest. This book is available for $9.99 on the Kindle or $10.87 in paperback from Amazon, but because it's about five years old, it might be available in your local library. Go and take a look, because dispelling rumors is one of the most valuable things that an author can do. Sharing the truth is a great facet of history.
Craig Childs's expose on the world of the Anasazi (or, more properly, the ancestral Puebloans) dispels many of the cliche tourist assumptions that Americans may have about the previous owners of our land. With a slow, respectful voice in deference to the secrets of the world around him, Childs quietly follows in the footsteps of a people who left their worlds behind them as a manner of living, tracing their history through only broken pots and tumbled walls.
House of Rain is a bifurcated novel: the main "story" follows Childs's physical pilgrimage across the migratory trails of the pre-Columbian Anasazi, and as he uncovers ruins and artifacts, he divulges his wealth of accumulated archaeological research. He begins in the New Mexican Chaco Canyon, where a great religious and commercial civilization flourished over a thousand years ago. He introduces us slowly to the terminology and basic architecture that these people used, then moves on to the next site at Fajada Butte, taking us along a journey that has long been misread, dusted over and ignored in favor of a more mysterious, though ultimately incorrect, theory.
According to popular mythology, the Anasazi were a people that lived in the Four Corners area of southwest Colorado and northeastern Arizona, constructing the impressive sites of Mesa Verde and Kayenta. On a visit to Mesa Verde, an ordinary tourist will be taken down into some of the breathtakingly complete and preserved cliff dwellings, leaning down into kivas and beholding intact wooden ladders from the 13th century. A tour guide will tell them that these people took refuge in the cliffs from an unknown enemy, possibly the Apache or the Navajo, and only occupied these dwellings for 80 to 100 years before suddenly vanishing without a trace. The guides cite the presence of full baskets of food, personal effects, and ceremonial artifacts as evidence that the people had no chance to collect themselves before disappearing.
This is not the truth, according to Childs. His research and experience have shown him time and time again that the Anasazi were a migratory people, who regularly used a pattern of abandoning structures and following the rain and drought cycle to preserve their way of life.
With extensive research and remarkable personal physical effort, the author takes us on a visceral, sensitive walk along a road that people traveled long ago, tracing the footsteps of a people not entirely gone. Along the way, he makes the point that there still are descendents of the ancestral Puebloans along this road: the Hopi still occupy their ancestral lands, the Navajo are linked to the mountains of their reservation, and people in the Paqime region of northern Mexico are familiar with the migrants' history. They are not gone, Childs concludes; they are simply dusted over with the passage of time.
His own journey drives this point home. Childs is no droll scientist sashaying into writing: his voice is clear, piercing, and in some places moving, bringing to life the dusty places that he stands. His passion for archaeology and the American Southwest pervades the novel, imbuing the words with a meaning other than simple information. That is the true beauty of this book: it is not just a dry recitation of facts. By throwing himself completely into his work, Childs has brought a possibly boring topic to life, enabling his findings to draw in even casually interested readers into a long-lost tale of a people long forgotten.
Although he does stray into sometimes long and dull passages rife with tangential information, the author never loses track of where he stands. One interesting and possibly unintentional beauty of the book is the fact that he brings his wife Regan and toddler son Jasper with him on parts of the adventure. Perhaps it was practical and coincidental, but by bringing such vivid pictures of life into these places long dead, he illustrates a point: the cycle goes on. Even if a civilization vanishes, life has not ended, and there will always be people chasing the rain, adjusting their lives to what is given.
Fascinating, comprehensive, and understandable even for a stranger to archaeology, House of Rain's 445 pages are a fantastic trip through a land that few modern Americans see: the bare deserts of the central Southwest. This book is available for $9.99 on the Kindle or $10.87 in paperback from Amazon, but because it's about five years old, it might be available in your local library. Go and take a look, because dispelling rumors is one of the most valuable things that an author can do. Sharing the truth is a great facet of history.
November 30, 2022
House of Rain tracks the movement and disappearance of Native American tribes in the southwest United States. After a trip to Utah in the spring, I wanted to know more about the thriving culture that existed there. Craig Childs takes the readers on a journey to centers of civilization the existed in the 11th to 15th century.
November 15, 2018
For sheer scholarship and passion, I have to give this book a four but sometimes the writing is so overwrought, it made me crazy. Also, I would have really really liked maps for each chapter and even within the chapters and most of all the various ideas and theories to be fitted together in some way to help me make a big picture. But still so interesting!!
August 22, 2025
I think I’m a Craig Childs fanboy. I’m jealous of his life and his prose.
November 4, 2023
This book wasn't what I wanted it to be. It's more about the author than about the Chaco Culture. After wading through all the stories of camping in the desert, waking up at sunrise, visiting ruins, and picking up pottery shards, I got maybe a magazine article's worth of information about the vanished civilization.
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