
A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit (Viking, 2005/Penguin paperback reprint, 2006)
Reviewed by Cindi Di Marzo
“Some ideas are new, but most are only recognition of what has been there all along, the mystery in the middle of the room, the secret in the mirror. Sometimes one unexpected thought becomes the bridge that lets you traverse the country of the familiar in an unprecedented way.” Rebecca Solnit
Reading art critic/philosopher/activist Rebecca Solnit’s books and essays is like turning a corner with every page, only to come upon yet another unexpected connection, correspondence or graceful moment of serendipity.1 In order to read Solnit, one need be entirely engaged and focused on essentials while giving way to the intellectual and philosophical meandering she encourages. (And quite a few vicarious road trips through deserts and hikes up mountain ranges, as well.)
In the hands of another author, a book entitled A Field Guide to Getting Lost might be shelved in a bookshop’s Buddhism or self-help sections. A natural evolution of Solnit’s 2000 title Wanderlust: A History of Walking, this “field guide” is itself an example of its modus operandi. Rather than explain how to venture from safe paths and comfortable ways of being, Solnit models an extraordinary inner life attained by leaping into a scary yet exciting void.
The most remarkable aspect of her work is that, while all about Solnit, it is also about us as inhabitants of an endangered planet that still has great resources: nearly extinct species being revived, ecologically sound products and power sources being developed, eroding languages and cultures being preserved, and unselfish people devoting time and money to social, political and economic reform. A leader among them, Solnit employs a powerful tool for change: her books and essays.2 Solnit’s work will resonate with a wide range of readers, as she draws on her passion for art, literature, history, philosophy and the natural world. Foremost of her passions, the unknown, is Field Guide’s territory. The slim volume takes readers across the globe and through the tiniest tributaries of the human imagination.
But readers be warned: As fascinating (and addictive) as Solnit’s twists and turns prove to be, she prefers her travels unmapped. In Solnit’s view, mapped (accurately/erroneously) or imagined (consciously/in dream) itineraries are for breaching. Although kind when blasting short-sighted if well-meaning technological convenience, Solnit rebukes any diversion from individual responsibility for navigating through the world; for example GPS. She ponders the word “track,” or shul, referencing its meaning to Tibetans (a lingering mark of something vanished) and Jews (a place of worship).
Solnit’s uncanny radar for empty spaces—and talent for discerning or inventing meaning in them—impresses. Born in California, now living in San Francisco, her feet and car seem to high jack her into the wilds, although she discovers empty places in urban locals, forsaken rather than untouched (vacant lots, abandoned hospitals). In the nine chapters here, she moves from personal periods of being lost to lost histories, people, objects and species. For example, Solnit imagines her great grandmother’s journey from Eastern Europe to the American west as “stepping out of the noisy compression of an Isaac Bashevis Singer story into the expansive calm of a Willa Cather novel.” That space contains hope and possibility, but also risk. From the visible (recorded) and invisible (imagined), Solnit creates a story in which her great grandmother disappeared while moving from one land to another. Whatever the facts, Solnit weaves a luminous tale from wispy threads.
Similarly, Solnit relates tales of settlers (Mary Jemison, Cynthia Ann Parker) captured, then adopted by Native American tribes who embraced new languages and customs, married, gave birth and refused to return to their own culture. While such captives did not voluntarily leap into a void, they did not fight it, earning for themselves new skills, self-reliance and interior freedom.
Among Solnit’s many leaps are considerations of explorers (Columbus, Daniel Boone, Lewis and Clark); Greek goddesses and philosophers (Demeter, Persephone; Meno, Plato); writers (Dante, Cather, Djuna Barnes, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald); naturalists (Henry David Thoreau, an obvious Solnit mentor); songwriters and singers (Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, Tanya Tucker, Joy Division); films (Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo), and far-flung locales (Africa, Bolivia, San Francisco and New York City’s Chelsea Piers). If not breathless after reading this tiny sampling of Solnit’s terrain, readers will be soon after embarking on her trail. French artist Yves Klein’s obsession with the void, symbolized by flight, levitation and the color blue, figure prominently in Solnit’s consciousness. Of the nine chapters in Field Guide, four are titled “The Blue of Distance,” and these serve as interludes for the others.
Throughout Field Guide, Solnit urges readers to move beyond what they know and what they know they don’t know until they touch the vast terra incognita outside their awareness. To even begin to confront these murky waters feels like stumbling through Dante’s shadowy realms. At times, readers might feel hopelessly adrift but then Solnit weights each of her lofty escapes to a critical concern for humanity and the planet. For those ready to follow Solnit and her spiritual kinfolk, be assured that this journey’s guide has an admirable internal GPS system.
1 In an interview in Believer magazine (http://www.believermag.com/issues/200909/?read=interview_solnit), Solnit stated her conviction: “In a divided culture, being undivided and synthesizing and connecting across broad areas can be an act of resistance, just as being slow—as in doing things deliberately, walking or biking or cooking from scratch or gardening or sitting around and swapping stories, not being dilatory or sluggish—in a sped-up culture is an act of resistance akin to the work slowdowns that were one form of factory strike.”
2 Solnit’s backlist includes Hollow City (2001), River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West (2003), Hope in the Dark: Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities (2004), Storming the Gates of Paradise: Landscapes for Politics (2007), and her most recent A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities that Arise in Disaster (2009).