TTW is one of my favorite environmental/spiritual writers. Years and years ago I read Pieces of White Shell and never looked at my own natural landscape, or writing, nearly as carelessly again. When Women Were Birds haunted me in all the right ways for a very long time. So I didn't hesitate to treat myself to her latest, feeling very grateful that I could, because I trusted it would be like all her others and I'd want to re-read at both leisure and in search of specific passages.
Last night I started this collection of essays and read 160 pages before my eyes started to object. I went to sleep marveling at the degree of synchronicity I'd found within the book's very first sentences:
If the world is torn to pieces, I want to see what story I can find in fragmentation. I have taken to making collages. I want to see whether a different narrative might arise from poring over American magazines, tearing them up and putting them back together in a shape that makes sense to me. When everything feels like it is coming apart, assemblage feels like a worthy pastime.