These snapshots convey the everyday pleasures and challenges of living in a remote location.

She feels a “glimmer” as she goes through her day, “a little charge of resonance that says, 'Hey, writer, look over here.' ” As she notes, it is “… my method, the way I have written every single thing I have written, it is also the primary way I worship, the way I kneel down and kiss the earth.”Įach chapter is followed by a “Ranch Almanac” entry, usually focused on her animals, from the poop-strewing habits of the mini-donkeys to the obstreperous antics of the chickens.

The physical world gives her everything she needs for storytelling, Houston writes. She doesn’t dismiss the challenges and heartbreaks of rural life, but in “The Season of Hunkering Down,” “Mother’s Day Storm” and other essays she conveys the merits of choosing an existence closer to nature. Houston was desperate to find the kind of sanctuary offered by her ranch, a place of breathtaking beauty, seeking a sense of rootedness and protection lacking in her chaotic upbringing. Houston writes candidly of her childhood in “The Tinnitus of Truth Telling” and “Retethering,” recalling how she was raised by two dangerous and abusive alcoholics, who between them managed to wreck 16 cars before Houston had her own learner’s permit. Deep Creek recounts her struggles to remain emotionally connected to the ranch and its inhabitants, even as her career compels her to grapple with the challenges of the outside world. As a professor of English at UC Davis, Houston has had to spend much time away from it, leading writing workshops. It’s a place she shares with various horses, donkeys, Irish wolfhounds and Icelandic sheep. The essays in Deep Creek examine the life Houston has created at her 120-acre southern Colorado homestead at the headwaters of the Rio Grande, “the only real home” she ever had. She often focuses on women who are competent in navigating the natural world but can't handle romance with the hard-earned skill they bring to, say, white-water rafting. Houston - author of several books, including the short story collection Cowboys Are My Weakness and the novels Contents May Have Shifted and Sight Hound - is an acerbic and self-deprecating writer. In her recent memoir, Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country, novelist and essayist Pam Houston sees the disaster of climate change already unfolding at her ranch, but finds strength and solace in the practical work involved in protecting her land, her animals and the wild landscape they share. When your homestead in the Colorado Rockies is threatened by wildfire, it's easy to believe you have a front-row seat at the Apocalypse. Deep Creek: Finding Hope in the High Country

Deep creek memoir