THE TERRITORY OF RIVERS

RIVERS OF MEMORY: A JOURNEY ON MAINE’S HISTORIC MIDCOAST WATERWAYS
By John Gibson
176 pp.
Down East Books. $14.95.

Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves

Once upon a time, in the days before the internal combustion engine, people depended on rivers much the same way that we depend on highways. They used them for traveling, shipping, and for a myriad of other activities that have passed from memory to become history. Towns and cities were built around rivers, and their importance cannot be underestimated. Today, when we think of rivers at all, it is often in terms of either their health or their beauty, but we rarely spend much time on them. Usually, they are just a sparkling blur as we whiz by, shut tight in our automobiles, and I expect that even those who use rivers for recreation seldom give much thought to the roles rivers played in the past.

However, the writer John Gibson is the exception to the rule. Inspired by Henry David “Thoreau’s week-long journey on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers in Massachusetts,” Gibson decided to go on his own “week-long” excursion on a few of Maine’s river. Initially, he picked the Damariscotta, the Sheepscot, and the Kennebec rivers, all located in midcoast Maine. Not only do these rivers “nestle comfortably close to one another,” but they also share a common history, a “shared memory. Collectively they nurture a place where forest and coastal ways have converged…stubbornly dug in, held on, and is still holding on.” Later, Gibson threw the St. George in for good measure. For his river adventures, Gibson used a kayak he affectionately dubbed Merlin, and they made a good team—Merlin the quiet, reliable one and Gibson the paddler who expounds, observes, and reflects.

Rivers of Memory is the result of this trip, and as the name suggests, it is more than just the tale of one man, his kayak, and four rivers. Writing in a brisk, no-nonsense style, Gibson blends descriptions of the natural world with the rivers’ histories, giving the book a momentum that moves back and forth, much like a tidal river, and makes for fascinating reading.

In Rivers of Memory, readers get accounts of glittering water fast and slow, birds, plants, thunderstorms, quiet, noise, and tides. They learn that the Kennebec River once supported a thriving ice business that seemed to promise an unlimited way to profit from the river. How else to keep things cold? But “Refrigeration killed it all,” and the industry, with all its bustle and machinery, only lasted for sixty years.

Readers also learn about the first settlers who arrived in Maine before the Pilgrims ever set foot in Massachusetts and the settlers’ relation with the Native Americans. Gibson’s vivid historic imagination goes back to the forts, the mills, the pulp, and the lumber. He recounts the story of the Phippsburg island of Malaga, home to descendents of runaway slaves and “probably whites of uncertain provenance.” By 1912, “Malaga and her people had become unacceptable both to the surrounding communities and to politicians eager to display their vigilance. The order came down from Augusta that everyone was to be removed from the island…Though there were certainly more desperate island populations along the Maine coast, this one was to be disbanded as an embarrassment.” Thus, of course, proving that racism was not restricted to the South.

Gibson, however, does have a cranky blind spot. He writes, “It will be clear to anyone who has traveled with me thus far that I have little affection for most things modern. I like good design, natural, undisturbed, countryside, communities that are livable…small is beautiful.” On his next trip, perhaps, Gibson should take a few moments to reflect on the blessings of cities and large communities—the energy, the arts, and the possibilities for achievement and reinvention that small communities usually do not offer. In addition, Gibson should be grateful that not everyone feels as he does, that many people prefer to live clustered in cities. Otherwise, the sprawl would be so terrible that Gibson’s beloved rivers and countryside would be engulfed by development.

However, anyone who is guided by the spirit of Thoreau is bound to have a grumpy side. In truth, the crankiness serves to add a little spice to this fine book. A steady diet of sweetness and light can be more than a little tedious, and Gibson’s peppery ruminations are a good counterbalance to his paeans to rivers and the natural world. 

 

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