Have any of you read the book Mississippi Solo?
If you have not, you're missing out. In this work of nonfiction, Eddy L. Harris -- who lived a portion of his life in St. Louis -- recounts his solo trip (in a canoe) from the head waters of the Mississippi down to Louisiana.
This is an amazing story -- quite scary at times, especially when the author is paddling his little canoe through the locks and dams and dodging the wakes of massive barges (and dodging the barges themselves).
I was intrigued by this journey because I grew up in St. Louis within a mile of the Mighty Mississippi. I didn't spend a lot of time on the River, but I've been down to its banks enough to feel its overwhelming power. When people say they want to go boating on the Mississippi, I reply with "Good luck!"
When I was a teenager, a buddy of mine and I planned to do some night fishing on the river. The spot we'd had picked out was, of course, on private land, and we were not invited. But we were determined to drop a line in anyway. Well, before I left the house (wearing old jeans, an old ratty sweatshirt and toting a much-too-small fishing pole for the Mississippi) I made the mistake of telling my mother where we were going fishing.
I don't think she believed me. Certainly, two teenaged boys were up to no good if they were heading to the river at night. She was certain that we had something else up our sleeve, so she replied with an emphatic "Nuh-uh. You're not going fishing."
I pleaded my case, but she stood her ground. She said "If you ARE going fishing, you're NOT going there. What would happen if you were sucked in? At night, when no one could see you? Forget about it."
When I was that age, I would often try to argue to get my way. But that night, there was a seriousness in my mom's tone -- something I didn't want to question. And I've never questioned it since. For the past 15 years, I've wondered what would've/could've happened that night -- two kids trying to balance on slippery rocks and battle the rip-roaring currents of one of nature's powerhouses. I'm glad I didn't go.
That's why I was fascinated by Eddy's book. He challenged the River and he won. But it wasn't for a lack of respect -- respect he learned to afford the River and respect he gained for himself.
Great book. Good writing.
Eddy followed up this book with a handful of others, including Native Stranger, Still Life in Harlem, and South of Haunted Dreams.
If you have not, you're missing out. In this work of nonfiction, Eddy L. Harris -- who lived a portion of his life in St. Louis -- recounts his solo trip (in a canoe) from the head waters of the Mississippi down to Louisiana.
This is an amazing story -- quite scary at times, especially when the author is paddling his little canoe through the locks and dams and dodging the wakes of massive barges (and dodging the barges themselves).
I was intrigued by this journey because I grew up in St. Louis within a mile of the Mighty Mississippi. I didn't spend a lot of time on the River, but I've been down to its banks enough to feel its overwhelming power. When people say they want to go boating on the Mississippi, I reply with "Good luck!"
When I was a teenager, a buddy of mine and I planned to do some night fishing on the river. The spot we'd had picked out was, of course, on private land, and we were not invited. But we were determined to drop a line in anyway. Well, before I left the house (wearing old jeans, an old ratty sweatshirt and toting a much-too-small fishing pole for the Mississippi) I made the mistake of telling my mother where we were going fishing.
I don't think she believed me. Certainly, two teenaged boys were up to no good if they were heading to the river at night. She was certain that we had something else up our sleeve, so she replied with an emphatic "Nuh-uh. You're not going fishing."
I pleaded my case, but she stood her ground. She said "If you ARE going fishing, you're NOT going there. What would happen if you were sucked in? At night, when no one could see you? Forget about it."
When I was that age, I would often try to argue to get my way. But that night, there was a seriousness in my mom's tone -- something I didn't want to question. And I've never questioned it since. For the past 15 years, I've wondered what would've/could've happened that night -- two kids trying to balance on slippery rocks and battle the rip-roaring currents of one of nature's powerhouses. I'm glad I didn't go.
That's why I was fascinated by Eddy's book. He challenged the River and he won. But it wasn't for a lack of respect -- respect he learned to afford the River and respect he gained for himself.
Great book. Good writing.
Eddy followed up this book with a handful of others, including Native Stranger, Still Life in Harlem, and South of Haunted Dreams.
3 comments:
Eric,
I will have to pick up this book. It looks great!I am impressed with your blog site. I will add it to my favorites.
Mary
Eric,
This has always been one of my favorite books. I am glad you are bringing new attention to it. Good luck on your blog. I will stay tuned.
Leslie
Leslie and Mary:
Thanks for your interest in this blog and this book. My introduction to Eddy Harris came through "Contemporary Creative Nonfiction: The Art of Truth" edited by Bill Roorbach (2001). I have some of Harris's other titles on my shelf and I'm looking forward to reading those!
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