I’ve lived my entire life in Georgia (with five years in
South Carolina) without ever having heard of the Pinhook Swamp, the subject of
Janisse Ray’s third book, Pinhook:
Finding Wholeness in a Fragmented Land (Chelsea Green Publishing, 2005). People like me are likely among the intended
audience for the book, in which Ray recounts the area’s history, its
environmental significance, and efforts to preserve and reclaim it. The swamp
is so thick that few people ever penetrate it.
Ray has been there repeatedly.
Her descriptions of the animal and plant life in the swamp are among the
book’s virtues. Her efforts to create a
mystical significance for the swamp, signified in her subtitle and its emphasis
on “wholeness” don’t work as well for me.
I know what she is arguing—that preserving the Pinhook area prevents it
from becoming divided up and “fragmented” by farmlands and housing
developments—it is thus kept whole. Moreover,
the ecological significance of the swamp, which provides an open pathway for
wildlife to move back and forth between the Osceola National Forest in Florida
and the Okeefenokee Swamp in Georgia and Florida, is preserved. But she also argues for wholeness as a
mystical sense of fulfillment in human life.
This part of the book becomes problematic for me. Ray is at her best
when she is writing about her own experiences in the swamp, its importance to
the preservation of the local environment, and ongoing efforts to preserve
it. Pinhook
offers some of her best writing, but the way she has organized it, especially
in the latter half, with a number of short chapters that pique the reader’s
interest without really satisfying it, leaves the book seeming more fragmented than
whole.
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