Beginning by Erasure
Well, despite my many, many efforts to the contrary, it's finally happened. I've started on a chapter. I'm skipping the introduction for now, and my first chapter sets out to show how the West was perceived and represented as "empty space," and how those who sought to settle it -- the Great Plains, specifically -- had to struggle with both the real and imagined "desertness." I roughly imagine the chapter in three parts. First, I will venture to show how the West (again, specifically the Great Plains, but with applicability to the West as a whole) was perceived by many in the 19th century as a "Great American Desert," and how this perception (in tandem, of course, with many practical obstacles) served to hold back the settlement of the American intererior for several generations. Subsequent to that--and the heart of the chapter--will be a discussion of how this myth shifted to one in which the agrarian settlement of the Plains became a heroic, and national venture. The desert turned to garden. Here, I will look to the literature--Cather, Rölvaag, etc.--to show how individuals struggled practically and (more imporantly) psychologically with the "space," and how they sought to carve a place for themselves within the landscape. Finally, in a closing discussion, I plan to explore how--despite this shift in mythology from desert emptiness to garden promise--perceptions of the West have always retained a trace of "emptiness" to many both within and without. This is evident in treatments of Western landscapes as "dumping grounds"--that is, as sites for both nuclear tests and nuclear waste; as territories to be exploited by extractive economics; etc. For many, the West is still virtually uninhabited, and the tendency to erase the senses of place that have been created in those landscapes persists, "filled in" (again) with empty space.
And, if all that doesn't confuse y'all enough, here's a quickwrite I did a few days ago, to get me a back in the practice of expressing these ideas in writing. I'm not quite there yet...
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The historical impression of the Great Plains as the “Great American Desert” was one that held sway with many American settlers. This myth of the desert resulted from Stephen Long’s explorations (1820), and joined a long line of American perceptions of the unsettled West as howling wilderness. Whether the actual aridity of the plains was accurate is beside the point—so much depends on cyclical climate shifts and environmental hazards (droughts, locusts, etc)—but the story stuck. Perhaps the new settlers who ventured into this environment saw around them that these grasslands were no true desert, but many of them persisted holding on to the desert mythology because of their psychological and practical struggles with the overwhelming difference of the territory. It’s openness and seeming lack of shelter; it’s harsh weather; it’s sheer distance from the Eastern centers of familiarity and “civilization” – all of this overwhelmed many new to the region (or traveling through), and many conveniently used the mode of thinking and talking about the place that was already in practice to describe this feeling of alienness – that is, of a “desert” or “wasteland.” The desert perception may not have been a permanent, persistent, actual boundary, but the myth and the mental and physical struggles in a new landscape made it a psychological one.
Fight a story with a story. The mythology of barrier and impossibility was overcome only by convincing people that it was worth the challenge, by re-mythologizing the wilderness as a place of potential and national importance, and by making heroes of those who would take up the struggle – the yeoman heroes. The myth of the desert gave way to the myth of the garden, and this too struggled with reality. The plains were a difficult, unfamiliar, and challenging environment, and they did have “desert”-like qualities. Though not the howling wastes, the plains were still unsuited for traditional agricultural ventures. Those who settled it had to still overcome—in practice and in psychology—the sheer “spaceness” of it all. This is well represented in the literature of the time, in Cather and Rölvaag and others. The push and pull of the stories, and the struggles between the overwhelming landscape and the mythologized glory of triumph (of riches, of a “new start,” of founding a kingdom, etc.) all came together and clashed in the daily lives of these people, attempting to create a place for themselves. Some succeeded and some failed, but all struggled—both with reality and with mythology.
Even with the shift from the desert myth to the garden myth, and despite the success of settlers in eventually “placing” the plains, in creating lives and communities and histories in these apparently empty spaces (in finally creating “places to hide”), the perception of emptiness in the West persists. Perhaps it is promoted some by those within, to highlight their triumphs in overcoming, but it is also imposed by those without, who still seek to exploit the “wastes” – by extractive economics, or by nuclear testing, or by various other “dumping ground” philosophies (Vegas, prisons, etc). For many, the West is virtually uninhabited still, and those who are—in Terry Tempest Williams’ terms—the “virtual uninhabitants” must live with this perception, whether they fight it or accept it.
And, if all that doesn't confuse y'all enough, here's a quickwrite I did a few days ago, to get me a back in the practice of expressing these ideas in writing. I'm not quite there yet...
---
The historical impression of the Great Plains as the “Great American Desert” was one that held sway with many American settlers. This myth of the desert resulted from Stephen Long’s explorations (1820), and joined a long line of American perceptions of the unsettled West as howling wilderness. Whether the actual aridity of the plains was accurate is beside the point—so much depends on cyclical climate shifts and environmental hazards (droughts, locusts, etc)—but the story stuck. Perhaps the new settlers who ventured into this environment saw around them that these grasslands were no true desert, but many of them persisted holding on to the desert mythology because of their psychological and practical struggles with the overwhelming difference of the territory. It’s openness and seeming lack of shelter; it’s harsh weather; it’s sheer distance from the Eastern centers of familiarity and “civilization” – all of this overwhelmed many new to the region (or traveling through), and many conveniently used the mode of thinking and talking about the place that was already in practice to describe this feeling of alienness – that is, of a “desert” or “wasteland.” The desert perception may not have been a permanent, persistent, actual boundary, but the myth and the mental and physical struggles in a new landscape made it a psychological one.
Fight a story with a story. The mythology of barrier and impossibility was overcome only by convincing people that it was worth the challenge, by re-mythologizing the wilderness as a place of potential and national importance, and by making heroes of those who would take up the struggle – the yeoman heroes. The myth of the desert gave way to the myth of the garden, and this too struggled with reality. The plains were a difficult, unfamiliar, and challenging environment, and they did have “desert”-like qualities. Though not the howling wastes, the plains were still unsuited for traditional agricultural ventures. Those who settled it had to still overcome—in practice and in psychology—the sheer “spaceness” of it all. This is well represented in the literature of the time, in Cather and Rölvaag and others. The push and pull of the stories, and the struggles between the overwhelming landscape and the mythologized glory of triumph (of riches, of a “new start,” of founding a kingdom, etc.) all came together and clashed in the daily lives of these people, attempting to create a place for themselves. Some succeeded and some failed, but all struggled—both with reality and with mythology.
Even with the shift from the desert myth to the garden myth, and despite the success of settlers in eventually “placing” the plains, in creating lives and communities and histories in these apparently empty spaces (in finally creating “places to hide”), the perception of emptiness in the West persists. Perhaps it is promoted some by those within, to highlight their triumphs in overcoming, but it is also imposed by those without, who still seek to exploit the “wastes” – by extractive economics, or by nuclear testing, or by various other “dumping ground” philosophies (Vegas, prisons, etc). For many, the West is virtually uninhabited still, and those who are—in Terry Tempest Williams’ terms—the “virtual uninhabitants” must live with this perception, whether they fight it or accept it.
posted by TRM at 1:13 PM
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