{"title":"In the Watershed: A Journey Down the Maumee River by Ryan Schnurr (review)","authors":"","doi":"10.2979/imh.2023.a883500","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"Reviewed by: In the Watershed: A Journey Down the Maumee River by Ryan Schnurr Edith Sarra In the Watershed: A Journey Down the Maumee River By Ryan Schnurr (Cleveland, Ohio: Belt Publishing, 2017. Pp. 152. Maps. Paperbound, $16.95.) In the Watershed takes the reader on a fascinating tour of the Maumee, one of those nondescript midwestern rivers usually seen—if at all—from the window of a car. The Maumee runs for roughly 137 miles between Fort Wayne and Toledo, where it empties into Lake Erie, having drained some 6.600 square miles of watershed. Author Ryan Schnurr walked most of the river's length in eight days during August 2016 (\"when the stagnant heat of late summer begins to coax the algae into bloom\"), two of those days canoeing, and portaging his canoe on foot. In recounting the trip, Schnurr lays out the major lines comprising \"our uneasy entanglement\" (pp. 18–19) [End Page 103] with the Maumee, penetrating the past of specific sites and linking it to the present: from thumbnail histories of native peoples who once dwelt along its banks; to their conflicts with white interlopers; to the conflicts of white settlers with each other and with the landscape (the now vanished Great Black Swamp the most notable victim of the latter); to chilling sketches of the ecological crises that entered mainstream discourse in 1956 with the great die-off of Lake Erie's mayfly population. The story culminates in our time with the spread of cyanobacteria—poisonous to the livers of mammals who drink or swim in the river. As Schnurr notes in his peroration: \"no one great lesson here, only a thousand small ones: the rocks, the trees, the cities, the fields—and this holy water, coursing through us all\" (p. 116). Schnurr was motivated by unease about algae blooms, and no less by Americans' unconcern \"with ecological interdependence of places\" (p. 59), including especially those places not scenic in the conventional sense. His point: The brown alluvial rivers we glimpse in passing everyday in the Midwest are 'holy,' a word that originates in the idea of 'wholeness,' and can mean \"deserving of deep respect, awe, or reverence\" (p. 86). The problem is not simply that we have failed to see all waterways as integral to the whole of life. We just flat-out fail to see: \"No one seemed to notice the phosphorescent river. They went on picnicking and necking as if it were the most normal thing in the world\" (p. 66). When the author describes falling smack down into the middle of the murky Maumee, \"canoe in one hand and camera in the other\" (p. 84), we recognize where we all are now: ass-deep in waters whose dubious properties spring from our own misuses. In the Watershed is punctuated by conversations with people met in small-town diners and lodgings, a feature that will remind some readers of William Least Heat-Moon's iconic Blue Highways (1982), and his epic River-Horse (2013). Others will recall Wendell Berry's long series of essays evoking agricultural communities in crisis in the Kentucky River watershed and beyond. Schnurr's slim volume is concerned with things we take for granted—but that fascination with the ordinary is essential to his message. Bent on making visible what has been obscured, Schnurr illuminates the value of the pedestrian—that literal going-on-foot that grants travelers time to really see what they are passing through. His book gestures toward the potential power of the average person who, although maybe \"not your standard wilderness explorer type,\" might still make a difference (p. 19). Casual about the flora and fauna he encounters (relying on a Peterson's Guide to identify birds and trees, but lamenting his lack of one for wildflowers), Schnurr makes common cause with the Toledo Junior League housewife-activists of the 1960s. The latter's documentary film, \"Fate of a River,\" exposed the consequences of dumping wastes of all kinds into the Maumee and helped catalyze the [End Page 104] 1972 U.S.-Canada Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement, which cut annual phosphate emissions into the waterways by nearly half—small-scale heroics, but...","PeriodicalId":81518,"journal":{"name":"Indiana magazine of history","volume":"488 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0000,"publicationDate":"2023-03-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"Indiana magazine of history","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://doi.org/10.2979/imh.2023.a883500","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"","JCRName":"","Score":null,"Total":0}
引用次数: 0
Abstract
Reviewed by: In the Watershed: A Journey Down the Maumee River by Ryan Schnurr Edith Sarra In the Watershed: A Journey Down the Maumee River By Ryan Schnurr (Cleveland, Ohio: Belt Publishing, 2017. Pp. 152. Maps. Paperbound, $16.95.) In the Watershed takes the reader on a fascinating tour of the Maumee, one of those nondescript midwestern rivers usually seen—if at all—from the window of a car. The Maumee runs for roughly 137 miles between Fort Wayne and Toledo, where it empties into Lake Erie, having drained some 6.600 square miles of watershed. Author Ryan Schnurr walked most of the river's length in eight days during August 2016 ("when the stagnant heat of late summer begins to coax the algae into bloom"), two of those days canoeing, and portaging his canoe on foot. In recounting the trip, Schnurr lays out the major lines comprising "our uneasy entanglement" (pp. 18–19) [End Page 103] with the Maumee, penetrating the past of specific sites and linking it to the present: from thumbnail histories of native peoples who once dwelt along its banks; to their conflicts with white interlopers; to the conflicts of white settlers with each other and with the landscape (the now vanished Great Black Swamp the most notable victim of the latter); to chilling sketches of the ecological crises that entered mainstream discourse in 1956 with the great die-off of Lake Erie's mayfly population. The story culminates in our time with the spread of cyanobacteria—poisonous to the livers of mammals who drink or swim in the river. As Schnurr notes in his peroration: "no one great lesson here, only a thousand small ones: the rocks, the trees, the cities, the fields—and this holy water, coursing through us all" (p. 116). Schnurr was motivated by unease about algae blooms, and no less by Americans' unconcern "with ecological interdependence of places" (p. 59), including especially those places not scenic in the conventional sense. His point: The brown alluvial rivers we glimpse in passing everyday in the Midwest are 'holy,' a word that originates in the idea of 'wholeness,' and can mean "deserving of deep respect, awe, or reverence" (p. 86). The problem is not simply that we have failed to see all waterways as integral to the whole of life. We just flat-out fail to see: "No one seemed to notice the phosphorescent river. They went on picnicking and necking as if it were the most normal thing in the world" (p. 66). When the author describes falling smack down into the middle of the murky Maumee, "canoe in one hand and camera in the other" (p. 84), we recognize where we all are now: ass-deep in waters whose dubious properties spring from our own misuses. In the Watershed is punctuated by conversations with people met in small-town diners and lodgings, a feature that will remind some readers of William Least Heat-Moon's iconic Blue Highways (1982), and his epic River-Horse (2013). Others will recall Wendell Berry's long series of essays evoking agricultural communities in crisis in the Kentucky River watershed and beyond. Schnurr's slim volume is concerned with things we take for granted—but that fascination with the ordinary is essential to his message. Bent on making visible what has been obscured, Schnurr illuminates the value of the pedestrian—that literal going-on-foot that grants travelers time to really see what they are passing through. His book gestures toward the potential power of the average person who, although maybe "not your standard wilderness explorer type," might still make a difference (p. 19). Casual about the flora and fauna he encounters (relying on a Peterson's Guide to identify birds and trees, but lamenting his lack of one for wildflowers), Schnurr makes common cause with the Toledo Junior League housewife-activists of the 1960s. The latter's documentary film, "Fate of a River," exposed the consequences of dumping wastes of all kinds into the Maumee and helped catalyze the [End Page 104] 1972 U.S.-Canada Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement, which cut annual phosphate emissions into the waterways by nearly half—small-scale heroics, but...
书评:《在分水岭:莫米河之旅》作者:瑞安·施努尔(俄亥俄州克利夫兰:贝尔特出版社,2017年)。152页。地图。平装书,16.95美元)。在《分水岭》一书中,读者踏上了一段迷人的莫米河之旅。莫米河是中西部一条不起眼的河流之一,通常只能从汽车窗口看到——如果能看到的话。莫米河在韦恩堡和托莱多之间长约137英里,在那里流入伊利湖,排干了大约6600平方英里的流域。2016年8月,作家瑞恩·施努尔(Ryan Schnurr)在8天内走完了这条河的大部分长度(“夏末的滞热开始诱使藻类开花”),其中两天是划独木舟,还有两天是徒步携带他的独木舟。在叙述这次旅行时,Schnurr列出了主要线索,包括“我们与Maumee的不安纠缠”(第18-19页),穿透特定地点的过去,并将其与现在联系起来:从曾经居住在河岸上的土著人民的缩略历史;他们与白人闯入者的冲突;白人定居者之间的冲突以及与自然环境的冲突(如今已经消失的大黑沼泽是后者最显著的受害者);到1956年伊利湖蜉蝣大灭绝引发的生态危机的骇人描述。这个故事在我们这个时代达到高潮,蓝藻细菌的传播对在河里喝水或游泳的哺乳动物的肝脏有毒。正如Schnurr在他的结语中所指出的那样:“这里没有一个伟大的教训,只有一千个小教训:岩石、树木、城市、田野——还有这圣水,流过我们所有人”(第116页)。Schnurr的动机是对藻类大量繁殖的不安,以及美国人对“地方的生态相互依赖”的漠不关心(第59页),特别是那些传统意义上不是风景优美的地方。他的观点是:我们每天在中西部瞥见的棕色冲积河是“神圣的”,这个词起源于“整体性”的概念,可以意味着“值得深深的尊重,敬畏,或敬畏”(第86页)。问题不仅仅在于我们没有把所有的水路看作是整个生活的组成部分。我们只是完全没有看到:“似乎没有人注意到磷光河。他们继续野餐和亲吻,好像这是世界上最正常的事情”(第66页)。当作者描述自己跌入浑浊的莫米河时,“一手拿着独木舟,一手拿着相机”(第84页),我们意识到我们现在所处的位置:屁股深的水,其可疑的属性源于我们自己的滥用。《在分水岭》中穿插着与在小镇餐馆和住所遇到的人们的对话,这一特点会让一些读者想起威廉·勒斯特·热月的代表作《蓝色公路》(1982)和他的史诗《河马》(2013)。其他人会想起温德尔·贝瑞(Wendell Berry)的长篇系列文章,这些文章唤起了肯塔基河流域及其他地区处于危机中的农业社区。Schnurr这本薄薄的书关注的是我们认为理所当然的事情,但对平凡的迷恋是他所传达的信息的本质。施努尔一心要让那些被遮蔽的东西变得清晰可见,他阐释了行人的价值——字面上的步行,让旅行者有时间真正看到他们所经过的东西。他的书展示了普通人的潜在力量,尽管他们可能“不是你标准的荒野探险家类型”,但他们仍然可能发挥作用(第19页)。施努尔对他遇到的动植物很随意(依靠一本彼得森指南来识别鸟类和树木,但遗憾的是他没有一本指南来识别野花),他与20世纪60年代托莱多少年联盟的家庭主妇积极分子有共同的事业。后者的纪录片《一条河的命运》(Fate of a River)揭露了向莫米河倾倒各种废物的后果,并帮助促成了1972年美国-加拿大大湖水质协议(us - canada Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement),该协议以近乎半小规模的英雄主义方式减少了每年向水道排放的磷酸盐,但……