Books
The Cincinnati Arch: More
Before he moved to Cincinnati to work as a college administrator,
wilderness lover Tallmadge would have dismissed the term urban
nature as an oxymoron. But thanks to his passion for the writings
of Thoreau, Muir, and Gary Snyder, and his practice of keen attentiveness
to the world, Tallmadge began to perceive the complexity and vitality
of natural life found within this wooded city. Not that this perception
came easily. Tallmadge’s critique of the sterility of office
life is exhilarating in its accuracy and candor, as are his dissections
of out notions of time, work, and home. But as Tallmadge began
to explore the surprisingly diverse green spaces within Cincinnati,
ponder how “wild systems” sustain themselves in gardens
and cities, and see the wonders of backyard nature through the
inquiring eyes of his young daughter, he found his way to a more
inclusive and sustaining understanding of wildness. This lustrous,
continually deepening book, clearly the work of many years of observation
and deep thought, is an insightful paean that reminds us that while
it is thrilling to vacation in the wilderness, it is far more important
to treasure everyday nature as manifest within ourselves and at
our doorstep.
–Donna Seaman, Booklist
The Cincinnati Arch will be an extremely important addition to
America’s literature of nature. Tallmadge reinvigorates the
genre’s central vision-quest motif in two ways. First, he
integrates it with his life as a householder. The movement from ‘isolatoes’ to
families is a necessary and wholesome one at a time when we are
trying to connect the religion of nature more robustly to issues
of social health. In addition, he follows his quest into the history
and topography of a long-settled midwestern city. I predict that
The Cincinnati Arch will be looked at as a literary landmark because
of its merger between nature writing and urban America. The fact
that it is gorgeously written and elegantly conceived shouldn't
hurt, either.
—John Elder, editor, American Nature
Writing (Scribner’s,
1996); coeditor, The Norton Book of Nature Writing (Norton,
1990); author of Reading the Mountains of Home (Harvard
University Press, 1998)
The literature of urban wildlands will grow richer and stronger
with John Tallmadge’s remarkable The Cincinnati Arch.
A book certain to become a classic at birth, it will join the small
roster of enduring works that celebrate city nature. As Leonard
Dubkin’s Enchanted Streets did for Chicago, John Kieran’s
Nature in New York City for Manhattan and Brooklyn, and Richard
Mabey’s Unofficial Countryside for London, Tallmadge’s
book will make of Cincinnati a window on the wider world where
people and other species live together. A writer of scintillating
image and rock-solid intellect, he works the words as only a creature
well adapted to the land of language can—but he also knows
his wilds, and blends the two in a delectable broth. All urban
naturalists, and all those who would love to love their cities
more, will read The Cincinnati Arch with keen pleasure,
and thank John Tallmadge for it.
—Robert Michael Pyle, author of The Thunder Tree (Houghton
Mifflin, 1993); Chasing Monarchs (Houghton Mifflin, 1999); The
Audubon Field Guide to North American Butterflies (Houghton
Mifflin, 1981); Recipient of the Burroughs Medal for Distinguished
Nature Writing, 1987
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"All urban
naturalists, and all those who would love to love their
cities more, will read The Cincinnati Arch with keen
pleasure, and thank John Tallmadge for it." |
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John Tallmadge’s descriptions are evocative and beautifully
written, from the cathedral-like forests in the Sierra Nevada
to his own backyard of the Cincinnati Arch. But he undertakes
the next, more difficult step: a synthesis of the meaning of
landscape to him as a skilled, sentient observer and teacher. The
Cincinnati Arch grows from a beautiful idea carried out
with good judgment and thoughtfulness; it will be an important
book that needs to reach anyone who calls this landscape “home.”
—Ann Zwinger, author of The Mysterious Lands (Dutton,
1989), Yosemite: Valley of Thunder (Harper-Collins,
1998), and Shaped by Wind and Water (Milkweed/ Credo,
2000); Recipient of the Burroughs Medal for Distinguished
Nature Writing, 1976
Who better to open up the presence of nature in the city than
a man who never expected to find such riches there? The surprise
that John Tallmadge feels on discovering the pressure of wildness
in the streets and yards and hills and creeks of Cincinnati
becomes our surprise, as well. This is a conversion story,
of sorts, for Tallmadge learns to see his urban surroundings
as neither a wasteland nor a wonderland, but as a human settlement
embraced and saturated by the green world. This is also a family
story, for the author pays a new kind of attention to his place
once he becomes the father of two daughters. Moving easily
between the personal and the philosophical, writing with the
assurance of one who has spent much time in the backwoods as
well as the classroom, Tallmadge invites us to see our own
neighborhoods afresh, wherever we happen to live. This is a
book the world needs and one Tallmadge is well qualified to
write.
—Scott Russell Sanders, author of Staying Put:
Making a Home in a Restless World (Beacon, 1993), Hunting
for Hope (Beacon, 1998), and The Force of Spirit (Beacon,
2000) |
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