I picked up a hardcover copy of An Unspoken Hunger in the remainders section of a bookstore near Boston, unaware of what exactly I was getting. I had never heard of Terry Tempest Williams (TTW) until I joined AML-List earlier this year and after several positive comments and reviews I added her works to my "one-day-to-read" reading list. The recent PBS series "The West", allowed me to put the name TTW with a face - she offered commentary for some of the Utah segments - and so when I saw this book marked down I couldn't resist the bargain. What I did not know at the time was that it was much more of a bargain than I ever anticipated.

Like many people, I prefer to read an author's works in chronological order. In this case, however, I made an exception and have yet to read TTW's other works, including the award winning books Refuge (1991) or Desert Quartet (1995). Perhaps this limits my ability to compare works, but in my naivete there may also be a measure of objectivity gained by jumping feet first into a book that sits somewhere in the "middle".

An Unspoken Hunger is essentially a collection of 18 essays, many unrelated, but still knitted together by common patterns and threads. The essence of TTW's creative energy and spirit can be derived from one passage wherein she suggests that "tenderness born out of a connection to place . . . fuels my writing" (57). She continues:

Writing becomes an act of compassion toward life, the life we so often refuse to see because if we look too closely or feel too deeply, there may be no end to our suffering. But words empower us, move us beyond our suffering, and set us free. This is the sorcery of literature. We are healed by our stories. (57)

This struck a chord with me, not only as a writer, but as an individual consistently trying to find my connection, my roots, my resting place. Perhaps, as TTW suggests, it is through our stories that we find stability, peace and connectivity with ourselves and the world that surrounds us.

Some of the essays in this book resonated with me more than others. One gem includes a deeply moving and personal essay entitled "The Village Watchman," wherein TTW relates lessons learned growing up as a child and young adult with her uncle Alan, who was mentally handicapped but also filled with joy and given to surprising moments of thought and reflection. TTW relates the following discussion:

"How are you doing?" I would ask.

"Ask me how I am feeling?" he answered.

"Okay, how are you feeling?"

"Today? Right now?"

"Yes."

"I am very happy and very sad."

"How can you be both at the same time?" I asked in all seriousness, a girl of nine or ten.

"Because both require each other's company. They live in the same house. Didn't you know?"

The story conveys a strong sense of spirituality, particularly when TTW asks Alan about God.

"I know Him," he would say when all the adults were gone.

"You do?" I asked.

"I talk to Him every day."

"How so?"

"I talk to Him in my prayers. I listen and then I hear His voice."

"What does He tell you?"

"He tells me to be patient. He tells me to be kind. He tells me that he loves me."

Of course, this essay is atypical in the sense that it deals more with interpersonal relationships. Most of the essays in An Unspoken Hunger explore the spiritual, nourishing, and mutual relationship between mankind (or womankind) and Nature. This is done mostly in a reverential manner, but sometimes in a more humorous fashion. For example, in the essay "Undressing the Bear," TTW suggests that women and bears walk the same paths and thus mutually understand each other, and then relates a story of an old Alaskan man that tells a woman friend for her safety that, "if you should run into Bear, lift up your parka and show him you are a woman" (52).

While I treasure most of the essays in this book, some are better than others. In the essay, "A Patriot's Journal", the author becomes overly preachy in a pro-environmentalist / anti-war diatribe, which is not subtle enough to convert the unconverted to her side. I think TTW's creative efforts are much better spent doing what she does best, connecting the spiritual and individual self with Nature and establishing a sense of place. As for whether or not this work truly qualifies as Mormon literature (she does reference her Mormon experience a few times), I will leave that debate to others (apparently AML thinks so, giving her an award for her most recent book Desert Quartet). Whatever the case, I found TTW's An Unspoken Hunger deeply satisfying and I look forward to plunging feet first into her other works, past, present, and future.

==========================================================
Peter Waite lives with his wife, Lara, in  Boston, Mass.  A Ph.D.
candidate in political science at Brandeis University, he spends most of
his time hammering away on his dissertation, but has written poetry,
essays and short stories for as long as he can remember.  The author
welcomes comments, feedback, and/or just simple friendly conversation
at:  waite@juno.com