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Desierto: Memories of the Future
With visionary lyricism and power, a spiritual adventurer, writing about nature and humankind in and against nature, captures the denizens of the Southwestern Desert, from mountain lions, to brutal drug kingpins, to predatory tycoon Charles Keating
225 pages, Hardcover
First published June 1, 1991
12 people are currently reading
148 people want to read
About the author
Charles Bowden
67 books184 followersCharles Bowden was an American non-fiction author, journalist and essayist based in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
His journalism appeared regularly in Harper’s GQ, and other national publications. He was the author of several books of nonfiction, including Down by the River.
In more than a dozen groundbreaking books and many articles, Charles Bowden blazed a trail of fire from the deserts of the Southwest to the centers of power where abstract ideas of human nature hold sway — and to the roiling places that give such ideas the lie. He claimed as his turf "our soul history, the germinal material, vast and brooding, that is always left out of more orthodox (all of them) books about America" (Jim Harrison, on Blood Orchid ).
His journalism appeared regularly in Harper’s GQ, and other national publications. He was the author of several books of nonfiction, including Down by the River.
In more than a dozen groundbreaking books and many articles, Charles Bowden blazed a trail of fire from the deserts of the Southwest to the centers of power where abstract ideas of human nature hold sway — and to the roiling places that give such ideas the lie. He claimed as his turf "our soul history, the germinal material, vast and brooding, that is always left out of more orthodox (all of them) books about America" (Jim Harrison, on Blood Orchid ).
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Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews
March 27, 2025
This is a stunning valentine for the "Greater Southwest," which ranges from Southern Arizona to the Mexican states of Sinaloa and Sonora. The book consists of about ten numbered but untitled essays on various subjects, including the Seri Indians of Sonora; the devious Charles Keating Jr, the Arizona banker and developer whose fraudulent dealings killed the Savings & Loan industry; a small Mexican village in drug country; mountain lions; and that just to name a few.
Charles Bowden's Desierto: Memories of the Future is a revelation to me. A friend to Edward Abbey (one of my favorite Southwestern authors), Bowden is every bit as good. I am delighted to find that he has written numerous titles, mostly about the Southwest. So much more for me to read!
Charles Bowden's Desierto: Memories of the Future is a revelation to me. A friend to Edward Abbey (one of my favorite Southwestern authors), Bowden is every bit as good. I am delighted to find that he has written numerous titles, mostly about the Southwest. So much more for me to read!
February 22, 2018
It was alright. Bit too much "I am a hard man, and my lips are mad with hunger. Hunger for food, for violence, for a nice shapely ass" for me, but I guess it had moments if you like being bummed out.
October 22, 2020
6 people got shot (one died) last night outside my house. Someone actually shot out of the sunroof of the SUV like a movie. That's seems like a fitting way to finish reading this book.
I think I'm getting tired of Bowden's writing.
I think I'm getting tired of Bowden's writing.
January 14, 2020
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/de...
...Most of the people I know believe in the future while I seem to merely remember it…
Charles Bowden managed to write a book that for me was one of the most difficult reads of late. Haunting and beautiful, horrific and bizarre. The need to discover the borderlands for myself has been satisfied. Too dangerous a place for me.
...few people who go into the desert will speak of ideas. There are too many of them out there and they whisper in our ears and frighten us...The following day I reached water at a place called Charlie Bell’s well. A stout steel fence blocked access to the tank from any rogue steers that had wandered into the country and their bones lay scattered around the perimeter. I could hear their bawling in my mind...Humane is not a word spoken by Mother Nature…
A culture so unlike any I have known does not welcome me with open arms. In fact, the people seem to discourage me from coming or especially getting too comfortable with the idea of a visit. Charles Bowden has done it for me and lived to write about it.
...Héctor leans forward, motions at his wife, and asks if I want to fuck her. She beams and her fat head nods…
This did not surprise me at all. Family seems to extend beyond any borders, even the walls of a home. Bowden obviously was welcomed, but perhaps it was a trap.
...I swear, if you had a camera, you would be snapping pictures like crazy—the valley below looks like some careful painting by Grant Wood, the little ranchos are handmade pieces of folk art, the faces of the men are weathered and chiseled and seem carved from some strange kind of warm stone. There are always flowers growing in the bare yards, a struggling honeysuckle, a rose bush, a blooming mum braving the winter air. The rooms are full of old secondhand furniture kept immaculately clean, the faces of the children glow like candles…The pictures would not be false, not at all. They would tell what the eye can see…
This is one review that prevents me from speaking what might be in my mind. Silence is golden. My life depends on it.
...Most of the people I know believe in the future while I seem to merely remember it…
Charles Bowden managed to write a book that for me was one of the most difficult reads of late. Haunting and beautiful, horrific and bizarre. The need to discover the borderlands for myself has been satisfied. Too dangerous a place for me.
...few people who go into the desert will speak of ideas. There are too many of them out there and they whisper in our ears and frighten us...The following day I reached water at a place called Charlie Bell’s well. A stout steel fence blocked access to the tank from any rogue steers that had wandered into the country and their bones lay scattered around the perimeter. I could hear their bawling in my mind...Humane is not a word spoken by Mother Nature…
A culture so unlike any I have known does not welcome me with open arms. In fact, the people seem to discourage me from coming or especially getting too comfortable with the idea of a visit. Charles Bowden has done it for me and lived to write about it.
...Héctor leans forward, motions at his wife, and asks if I want to fuck her. She beams and her fat head nods…
This did not surprise me at all. Family seems to extend beyond any borders, even the walls of a home. Bowden obviously was welcomed, but perhaps it was a trap.
...I swear, if you had a camera, you would be snapping pictures like crazy—the valley below looks like some careful painting by Grant Wood, the little ranchos are handmade pieces of folk art, the faces of the men are weathered and chiseled and seem carved from some strange kind of warm stone. There are always flowers growing in the bare yards, a struggling honeysuckle, a rose bush, a blooming mum braving the winter air. The rooms are full of old secondhand furniture kept immaculately clean, the faces of the children glow like candles…The pictures would not be false, not at all. They would tell what the eye can see…
This is one review that prevents me from speaking what might be in my mind. Silence is golden. My life depends on it.
June 16, 2025
This honestly was my least favorite Bowden book. It was frenetic and all over the place. Talking about mankind’s attempts to eliminate the mountain lion on the same page he talks about the drug “problema” in Mexico and the United States. Also, unfortunately as a result of having read several of his books back to back written in the same era (mid-late 1980’s) I have gotten the dreaded cross over where he writes the same shit almost verbatim. I hate that shit, it feels like a circle jerk. Full disclosure I have not nor do I ever intend to participate in a circle jerk. So it gets irritating. Despite that as usual there are moments of lyric gold: “Imagine something with the specific gravity of lead and yet the lightness of a feather and that is the desert.” You see? Pretty profound and accurate in my opinion. He has excellent passages about the cost in terms of human life (that means murders) that the drug problem creates. He also quite accurately points out that most natural predators that were a threat to mankind got their shit pushed in throughout southern Arizona. Grizzlies, wolves and other predators are all extinct now in southern Arizona with the exception of the Mountain lion. Just too tough despite our best efforts it has thrived (although the wolf has been reintroduced pissing off farmers everywhere). Finally a great quote from Edward Abbey the ultimate eco-warrior: “I have never heard a mountain lion bawling over the fate of his soul.” No shit, well put.
May 10, 2018
Indeed it is about memories of the future in a timeless land, even after the passage of nearly thirty years. The great North American desert that is divided by an arbitrary international border, is a place, the land and it's inhabitants are governed by rules that come from the place itself. The language and themes are bound to ctrigger a response.
April 9, 2024
Really 1.5 I really like some of Charles Bowden's work--I love his meandering mind, his intensity...
Even though I can see him in this book, the beginning of his particular craft, I felt little to attach me to this story.
Even though I can see him in this book, the beginning of his particular craft, I felt little to attach me to this story.
December 10, 2023
I have a fondness for the writings of the late Charles Bowden and this is vintage Bowden. Highly recommended, especially if you live, or have lived, in the US-Mexico border region.
October 19, 2009
Hallucinatory, desert-infected writing about the Sonoran desert. Masculinist. Fun.
March 20, 2016
I thought Blood Orchids was much better.
Displaying 1 - 10 of 10 reviews