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Encounters with the Archdruid
The narratives in this book are of journeys made in three wildernesses - on a coastal island, in a Western mountain range, and on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. The four men portrayed here have different relationships to their environment, and they encounter each other on mountain trails, in forests and rapids, sometimes with reserve, sometimes with friendliness, sometimes fighting hard across a philosophical divide.
245 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1971
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About the author
John McPhee
130 books1,820 followersJohn Angus McPhee is an American writer. He is considered one of the pioneers of creative nonfiction. He is a four-time finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in the category General Nonfiction, and he won that award on the fourth occasion in 1999 for Annals of the Former World (a collection of five books, including two of his previous Pulitzer finalists). In 2008, he received the George Polk Career Award for his "indelible mark on American journalism during his nearly half-century career". Since 1974, McPhee has been the Ferris Professor of Journalism at Princeton University.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 431 reviews
January 28, 2016
David Brower was an extreme conservationist. His 'religion' was wilderness. Brower's natural enemies were the mineral engineer, the resort developer and the dam builder.
What John McPhee did, in the three parts of this book, was to contrive meetings between Brower and each of these three. But these were not meetings in some boardroom. No. Brower hikes in the Cascades with the mineral engineer; he camps out on Cumberland Island with the resort developer; and he goes rafting through the Grand Canyon with the dam builder. Each time, McPhee is there with his wonderful ear.
You might think, then, that this is a book about Good versus Evil, the saintly Conservationist against the modern scourges: mining, resort building, reclamation. But by staging these dialogues in the wild McPhee changed the dynamic. The physical challenges necessitated cooperation. The respect was inexorable, and not just for physical feats. We need copper to maintain our way of life, the mineral engineer said. We'll surround the hotel with wilderness, the developer said. The lake will create a different kind of beauty while irrigating farms, the dam builder said. And the conservationist, still intractable, says he does not want the mine, does not want the resort, does not want the dam; but if they must come, he concludes, then I would want you men to build them.
So this became, for me, three tales of Good versus Good. Which is not as simple as that might sound.
What John McPhee did, in the three parts of this book, was to contrive meetings between Brower and each of these three. But these were not meetings in some boardroom. No. Brower hikes in the Cascades with the mineral engineer; he camps out on Cumberland Island with the resort developer; and he goes rafting through the Grand Canyon with the dam builder. Each time, McPhee is there with his wonderful ear.
You might think, then, that this is a book about Good versus Evil, the saintly Conservationist against the modern scourges: mining, resort building, reclamation. But by staging these dialogues in the wild McPhee changed the dynamic. The physical challenges necessitated cooperation. The respect was inexorable, and not just for physical feats. We need copper to maintain our way of life, the mineral engineer said. We'll surround the hotel with wilderness, the developer said. The lake will create a different kind of beauty while irrigating farms, the dam builder said. And the conservationist, still intractable, says he does not want the mine, does not want the resort, does not want the dam; but if they must come, he concludes, then I would want you men to build them.
So this became, for me, three tales of Good versus Good. Which is not as simple as that might sound.
December 20, 2018
Great book. Have no idea why I never ran across John McPhee before stumbling upon him as a non-fiction author C. J. Box's Joe Pickett character read. Looked him up and found him to be a prominent and prolific writer and picked this one, probably his most popular work, to start with. Published in 1977 it describes three meetings in the wild that the then head of the Sierra Club, Dave Brower, the "archdruid" of the title, had with then prominent agents of development: hiking Glacier Park Wilderness with a mining consultant Charles Park; exploring Cumberland Island, Georgia, with the developer of Hilton Head Charles Fraser; and running the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon with the head of the dam-building Bureau of Reclamation Floyd Dominy.
McPhee's bias clearly favors Brower's pro-wilderness stance but he does treat the enemy fairly, making all four of the principals likeable and interesting and giving a presumably true rendering of the adversaries' statements of their views. McPhee treats you to a highly entertaining ring-side seat in the clash between the druidical belief that unless we cordon off wilderness we'll end up floating on garbage and the use-what-we-have view that preservation means we'll freeze in the dark.
McPhee's bias clearly favors Brower's pro-wilderness stance but he does treat the enemy fairly, making all four of the principals likeable and interesting and giving a presumably true rendering of the adversaries' statements of their views. McPhee treats you to a highly entertaining ring-side seat in the clash between the druidical belief that unless we cordon off wilderness we'll end up floating on garbage and the use-what-we-have view that preservation means we'll freeze in the dark.
April 18, 2024
A rather unusual piece of work, and, to some extent, a period piece (published before I had a driver’s license), but I’m glad I read it. It’s very much related to, but quite different from, a lot of the climate change literature I read, but I found the context and the history fascinating.
What’s jarring is how, more that four decades (two score? a generation or two?) after the initial conversations (or "encounters"), the debate (or the battle lines remain the same. Alas.
I was unfamiliar with the author, and only vaguely familiar with the saga of the protagonist (the Archdruid, Dave Brower, and his role in the evolution of the Sierra Club), when a former student recommended this.
It’s an intriguing piece of conservation history and, I’m guessing for many, philosophy. But it’s also an extremely self-contained, modest, series of vignettes, snapshots, or, OK, “encounters.”
The premise is simple, elegant, and extremely effective. The author accompanies (and, one assumes, previously orchestrated), extended interactions with the Archdruid, Dave Brower, of Sierra Club fame/notoriety/controversy and a small number (three) of sophisticated, powerful, successful leaders of efforts/movements/initiatives/businesses/philosophies that Brower (and many conservationists) oppose.
These encounters are no mere negotiating table, conference room, or pedagogical debates; rather they are journeys over the ground, the battlespace, the specific/actual areas (often wilderness) in dispute (although some battles have already been won or lost or, at least temporarily, been suspended).
These are travelogues involving diametrically opposed combatants addressing - talking through and just as often not discussing - the legal and policy historical battlefields as they traverse the hotly disputed ground or resources that divide them.
I found the author’s prose evocative and powerful, even if I found the premise for the book as strange as it was effective. I may have to go back and look at some of McPhee’s other writings.
Quirky reviewer bias: I fully concede I'm partial to the book because there is a Bierstadt on the cover. No, not my favorite Bierstadt, but the more well known ones are all pretty epic. And, by the time you get to the end of the book, it's clear why this one is on the cover.
What’s jarring is how, more that four decades (two score? a generation or two?) after the initial conversations (or "encounters"), the debate (or the battle lines remain the same. Alas.
I was unfamiliar with the author, and only vaguely familiar with the saga of the protagonist (the Archdruid, Dave Brower, and his role in the evolution of the Sierra Club), when a former student recommended this.
It’s an intriguing piece of conservation history and, I’m guessing for many, philosophy. But it’s also an extremely self-contained, modest, series of vignettes, snapshots, or, OK, “encounters.”
The premise is simple, elegant, and extremely effective. The author accompanies (and, one assumes, previously orchestrated), extended interactions with the Archdruid, Dave Brower, of Sierra Club fame/notoriety/controversy and a small number (three) of sophisticated, powerful, successful leaders of efforts/movements/initiatives/businesses/philosophies that Brower (and many conservationists) oppose.
These encounters are no mere negotiating table, conference room, or pedagogical debates; rather they are journeys over the ground, the battlespace, the specific/actual areas (often wilderness) in dispute (although some battles have already been won or lost or, at least temporarily, been suspended).
These are travelogues involving diametrically opposed combatants addressing - talking through and just as often not discussing - the legal and policy historical battlefields as they traverse the hotly disputed ground or resources that divide them.
I found the author’s prose evocative and powerful, even if I found the premise for the book as strange as it was effective. I may have to go back and look at some of McPhee’s other writings.
Quirky reviewer bias: I fully concede I'm partial to the book because there is a Bierstadt on the cover. No, not my favorite Bierstadt, but the more well known ones are all pretty epic. And, by the time you get to the end of the book, it's clear why this one is on the cover.
September 6, 2020
I first read this in the 1970s, and it holds up well to rereading, almost 50 years later. McPhee is a wonderful writer, and this is one of his better books. He arranged for encounters between Dave Brower, then the head of the Sierra Club, with Charles Park, a well-known mining geologist, Charles Fraser, the developer of the Sea Pines on Hilton Head Island, and Floyd Dominy, then the Commissioner of the US Bureau of Reclamation. McPhee made multiple visits to all these men, but the titular Encounters were face-to-face, in the field, Brower vs. his natural enemies. The meetings were surprisingly cordial. The least attractive, and least successful Encounter was the first, with the geologist. To my surprise, as I was a mining geologist myself, and still have Park's textbook. (I was a Sierra Club member too, for a time, in the Brower era, and mostly admired him.) Anyway, Park came across as a one-note Charlie -- and he set out on a wilderness camping trip with brand-new boots, which turned out not to fit!
Both the developer and the BuRec Commissioner turned out to be pretty reasonable guys, even if they had to "agree to disagree" with Brower. These were originally three long articles in the New Yorker, back when they ran good, long non-fiction. Recommended reading, if you would like background on some of the environmental battles back then. Which (then as now) weren't always clear-cut, as McPhee carefully points out.
The real review to read here is Tony's, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Both the developer and the BuRec Commissioner turned out to be pretty reasonable guys, even if they had to "agree to disagree" with Brower. These were originally three long articles in the New Yorker, back when they ran good, long non-fiction. Recommended reading, if you would like background on some of the environmental battles back then. Which (then as now) weren't always clear-cut, as McPhee carefully points out.
The real review to read here is Tony's, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
September 28, 2015
There's a passage from a science fiction story by Robert Charles Wilson that I love, and which came to mind more than once as I was reading this book. Here it is, from Wilson's story "The Inner Inner City" (and which you can find in his excellent collection The Perseids and Other Stories):
We contrast the urban and the natural, but that’s a contemporary myth. We’re animals, after all; our cities are organic products, fully as “natural” (whatever that word really means) as a termite hill or a rabbit warren. But how much more interesting: how much more complex, dressed in the intricacies and exfoliations of human culture, simple patterns iterated into infinite variation. And full of secrets, beyond counting.
The three essays that make up this book each have the same beautifully simple set-up: David Brower, infamous leader of the Sierra Club and, for a time, the face of conservation in the United States, clashes with a person who has a very different philosophy about humanity's use of natural resources. Unlike Brower, who believes in the inherent value of large tracts of wilderness untouched by humans, each of his interlocutors firmly believes that the extraction of resources via industrial technique, the conversion of wilderness into real estate, and the mass re-engineering of nature by humans to be a moral good. What's more, they firmly believe that doing so is in the best interest of nature. And what makes this book so compelling is that each of Brower's sparring partners are sincere and knowledgable nature lovers, and often utterly sympathetic on the page. Sort of like that Wilson quote above, they each believe that human interventions in the environment are no less "natural" than those of rabbits or sparrows or komodo dragons.
Charles Park, one of the world's foremost minerologist profiled in the first essay, comes across as a man who has lived the majority of his life in nature, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of flora, fauna, and geology from throughout the world. Despite being a staunch mining advocate, Park believes that overconsumption of natural resources will lead to environmental ruin. But unlike Brower, who advocates a kind of reversion of the human species to a pre-technological lifestyle, Park believes that strict population controls limiting human procreation are the answer.
Next, we meet Charles Frasier, who developed Sea Pines resort on Hilton Head island (Frasier is, in fact, known as the father of the modern resort). Today we would call Frasier a green developer, given his attempts to incorporate nature into his building programs. McPhee follows Brower and Frasier around Cumberland Island, a barely inhabited island off the cost of Georgia that Fraiser wants to turn into another Sea Pines style resort, and relays for the reader the two men wrangling over how to develop the island to best protect Cumberland's apparently stunning wilderness.
Finally, Brower squares off against Floyd Dominy, United States Commissioner of Reclamation (translation: the United States dam builder in chief). McPhee follows Dominy, Brower, and a coterie of others on a rafting expedition down the Colorado River and into the Grand Canyon, a part of which Dominy had wanted to dam and turn into a reservoir (the scheme was defeated, in no small part thanks to Brower).
What made this book fascinating is that Brower's antagonists clearly love nature, and they have a closer connection to and deeper intimacy with the wilderness and wildlife than does your average person (and far, far more than I do, unrepentant urbanite as I am). These are not corporate bogey men or big business spin doctors attempting a disingenuous advocacy of activities that are self-evidently destructive to the environment. These are people who believe that human beings are a part of wilderness, and have a right to enjoy it and benefit from it as members of the community of species. The fact that humanity's actions have a far greater impact on the environment than other species is counter balanced, in their minds, by humanity's ingenuity in mitigating environmental risks.
What's more, the portrait of Brower that emerges in this book is by no means an unambiguously positive one. Though there is a sense that McPhee is fascinated by Brower the character, this is no hagiography. Brower unapologetically bends the facts, and is sometimes outright dishonest in his attempts to protect wilderness. And his justifications for wilderness conservation hinge on subjective notions of "natural beauty" that have little to no relevance to science.
(Side note: to be fair, the field of conservation biology was in its infancy at this time. However, Wilson's and MacArthur's The Theory of Island Biogeography had already been out and making waves for a number of years when the events McPhee chronicles took place. One would think that it would have crossed the desk of the head of one of the country's most significant conservations groups. Anyway...)
Ultimately, this book elegantly and dramatically frames the tensions that continue to form the core of nature conservation in the United States, and although some of the notions expressed by even the staunch conservationist at the book's center, it is an excellent and fun introduction to these issues.
We contrast the urban and the natural, but that’s a contemporary myth. We’re animals, after all; our cities are organic products, fully as “natural” (whatever that word really means) as a termite hill or a rabbit warren. But how much more interesting: how much more complex, dressed in the intricacies and exfoliations of human culture, simple patterns iterated into infinite variation. And full of secrets, beyond counting.
The three essays that make up this book each have the same beautifully simple set-up: David Brower, infamous leader of the Sierra Club and, for a time, the face of conservation in the United States, clashes with a person who has a very different philosophy about humanity's use of natural resources. Unlike Brower, who believes in the inherent value of large tracts of wilderness untouched by humans, each of his interlocutors firmly believes that the extraction of resources via industrial technique, the conversion of wilderness into real estate, and the mass re-engineering of nature by humans to be a moral good. What's more, they firmly believe that doing so is in the best interest of nature. And what makes this book so compelling is that each of Brower's sparring partners are sincere and knowledgable nature lovers, and often utterly sympathetic on the page. Sort of like that Wilson quote above, they each believe that human interventions in the environment are no less "natural" than those of rabbits or sparrows or komodo dragons.
Charles Park, one of the world's foremost minerologist profiled in the first essay, comes across as a man who has lived the majority of his life in nature, and has an encyclopedic knowledge of flora, fauna, and geology from throughout the world. Despite being a staunch mining advocate, Park believes that overconsumption of natural resources will lead to environmental ruin. But unlike Brower, who advocates a kind of reversion of the human species to a pre-technological lifestyle, Park believes that strict population controls limiting human procreation are the answer.
Next, we meet Charles Frasier, who developed Sea Pines resort on Hilton Head island (Frasier is, in fact, known as the father of the modern resort). Today we would call Frasier a green developer, given his attempts to incorporate nature into his building programs. McPhee follows Brower and Frasier around Cumberland Island, a barely inhabited island off the cost of Georgia that Fraiser wants to turn into another Sea Pines style resort, and relays for the reader the two men wrangling over how to develop the island to best protect Cumberland's apparently stunning wilderness.
Finally, Brower squares off against Floyd Dominy, United States Commissioner of Reclamation (translation: the United States dam builder in chief). McPhee follows Dominy, Brower, and a coterie of others on a rafting expedition down the Colorado River and into the Grand Canyon, a part of which Dominy had wanted to dam and turn into a reservoir (the scheme was defeated, in no small part thanks to Brower).
What made this book fascinating is that Brower's antagonists clearly love nature, and they have a closer connection to and deeper intimacy with the wilderness and wildlife than does your average person (and far, far more than I do, unrepentant urbanite as I am). These are not corporate bogey men or big business spin doctors attempting a disingenuous advocacy of activities that are self-evidently destructive to the environment. These are people who believe that human beings are a part of wilderness, and have a right to enjoy it and benefit from it as members of the community of species. The fact that humanity's actions have a far greater impact on the environment than other species is counter balanced, in their minds, by humanity's ingenuity in mitigating environmental risks.
What's more, the portrait of Brower that emerges in this book is by no means an unambiguously positive one. Though there is a sense that McPhee is fascinated by Brower the character, this is no hagiography. Brower unapologetically bends the facts, and is sometimes outright dishonest in his attempts to protect wilderness. And his justifications for wilderness conservation hinge on subjective notions of "natural beauty" that have little to no relevance to science.
(Side note: to be fair, the field of conservation biology was in its infancy at this time. However, Wilson's and MacArthur's The Theory of Island Biogeography had already been out and making waves for a number of years when the events McPhee chronicles took place. One would think that it would have crossed the desk of the head of one of the country's most significant conservations groups. Anyway...)
Ultimately, this book elegantly and dramatically frames the tensions that continue to form the core of nature conservation in the United States, and although some of the notions expressed by even the staunch conservationist at the book's center, it is an excellent and fun introduction to these issues.
February 15, 2019
Encounters with the Archdruid by John McPhee is an interesting narrative of differing views on environmentalism and the ongoing conundrum of conservation versus preservation. Focusing on David Brower (1912-2000), the prominent environmentalist who was Director and board member for the Sierra Club and Founder of the John Muir Institute for Environmental Studies, author John McPhee presents Brower's preservationist view that nature's value to society far outweighs any monetary value that society gives to the resources extracted from nature's wilderness areas.
The opposing views of Charles Park (1903-1990), geologist and mineral engineer, are presented when the author joins Brower and Park on a back-packing trip to Glacier Park Wilderness area in Washington State and where Park discusses in favor of mining and extracting resources for the benefit of present day economic benefit and believes that can be accomplished in an environmentally responsible way. Brower argues that the wilderness should remain untouched.
The second journey McPhee takes us is to Cumberland Island, a barrier island off the coast of Georgia, where Brower joins Charles Fraser (1929-2002), real estate developer, who wants to develop this island "wilderness" for its economic value with urbanization and wanting to consult Brower to do this in an environmentally sound way. While Brower still argues that it is unnecessary to intrude on the wilderness, he concedes that Fraser would be sensitive to the environment. (Cumberland Island National Seashore)
The last trip McPhee describes is with Brower and his concerns with U.S. Commissioner of Reclamation, Floyd Dominy plan to build dams on the Colorado River to overcome water scarcity and shortage to people in the region. Once again Brower argues against disrupting the natural ecosystem which he believes the dams would do.
McPhee's descriptions of the landscapes involved in the conservation/preservation movements are compelling and illustrative of the grandeur of nature and the wilderness areas. The writing is somewhat tedious, however. McPhee remains fairly unbiased in the arguments presented and the reader must decide for himself regarding these movements. And it is possible to alter ones' views on the environment depending on the times and circumstances. Extremist views on either side are not helpful.
The opposing views of Charles Park (1903-1990), geologist and mineral engineer, are presented when the author joins Brower and Park on a back-packing trip to Glacier Park Wilderness area in Washington State and where Park discusses in favor of mining and extracting resources for the benefit of present day economic benefit and believes that can be accomplished in an environmentally responsible way. Brower argues that the wilderness should remain untouched.
The second journey McPhee takes us is to Cumberland Island, a barrier island off the coast of Georgia, where Brower joins Charles Fraser (1929-2002), real estate developer, who wants to develop this island "wilderness" for its economic value with urbanization and wanting to consult Brower to do this in an environmentally sound way. While Brower still argues that it is unnecessary to intrude on the wilderness, he concedes that Fraser would be sensitive to the environment. (Cumberland Island National Seashore)
The last trip McPhee describes is with Brower and his concerns with U.S. Commissioner of Reclamation, Floyd Dominy plan to build dams on the Colorado River to overcome water scarcity and shortage to people in the region. Once again Brower argues against disrupting the natural ecosystem which he believes the dams would do.
McPhee's descriptions of the landscapes involved in the conservation/preservation movements are compelling and illustrative of the grandeur of nature and the wilderness areas. The writing is somewhat tedious, however. McPhee remains fairly unbiased in the arguments presented and the reader must decide for himself regarding these movements. And it is possible to alter ones' views on the environment depending on the times and circumstances. Extremist views on either side are not helpful.
April 12, 2012
I found this book to be riveting; both a nature travelogue and an applied ecology seminar in one slim volume. Sierra Club director David Brower is the Archdruid, a man who uses the word "conserve" the way Carl Sagan used "billions". He's a die-hard environmentalist with a gift for PR who fights a never-ending battle against the government, developers, miners, and even humanity at large in his quest to keep as much of America as possible out of the reach of man forever, and McPhee – whose writing talent is truly impressive – allows Brower and his nemeses to explain themselves and their views on nature at length in flawless, crystalline prose. Whether sparring over mining the Glacier National Park with geologist Charles Park, or settling Hilton Head Island with developer Charles Fraser, or damming the Grand Canyon with bureaucrat Floyd Dominy, Brower's unstinting defense of the wilderness touches on issues of conservation vs. preservation that become more relevant every day. His fervent devotion to the outdoors is nearly religious (hence the book's title), but so heartfelt and understandable, given the irreplaceable natural wonders he's fighting for, that by the end of the book I was practically cheering for him even though his antagonists were just as thoughtful and compelling as he was. Though the book is lightly infused with that peculiar 70s nature mysticism, in a world where Louisiana steadily washes out to the sea and the Everglades dwindles by the day to the size of a mud puddle Brower almost seems more reasonable now than when the book was written. Very thought-provoking, and McPhee is an absolutely superb writer.
July 17, 2025
You know the saying: there’s two sides to every argument. That’s roughly the framework of this fascinating look at man vs nature, expressed via legendary Sierra Club leader David Brower as he encounters other men exploiting mountains, rivers and coastal islands. John McPhee, a longtime contributor to The New Yorker, arranged these encounters and documented the results, back in 1970, and if nothing else, it shows how great journalists practice great journalism. It doesn’t resolve any of the conflicts underlying these encounters, nor does it lead you to a predetermined opinion on how they should be resolved. You, the reader, will do that yourself. This was my first time reading anything by John McPhee, and I found him to be a superb writer and journalist (those two things don’t necessarily always go together). He entered the field at a time when American journalism was undergoing its own evolution. I’m not sure where he fits in the movement, but his earliest published writings were of an immersive and experiential style of journalism that was also practiced by people such as Tom Wolfe, Truman Capote, and of course Hunter S. Thompson, and is now so common that we forget that it was unheard of only fifty years ago. I’ve read all those others, and McPhee is by far the most professional. He published lots of articles and at least 25 books, and after my encounter with the archdruid here, I’m looking forward to digging deeper into his work.
November 23, 2016
Gosh I love John McPhee. Everything he touches is golden. It's strange how timeless his books feel, since they're hopelessly dated in terms of actual subject matter. What was once cutting-edge environmental activism now seems almost adorably quaint. What I think I love about McPhee is his remarkable ability to be fully objective--to present two (or more) sides to a story and to give each equal weight and consideration--while still writing with a clear and obvious passion for his subjects. McPhee so clearly burns with love and wonder for humans and nature alike, he seems to hold equal respect for conservationists and industrialists, he identifies with precision and poignancy both human hubris and human ingenuity. He's smart and he's fair and he's a damn good writer.
Read this book, and then go read all of John McPhee's books. He's an American treasure and a singular talent in narrative nonfiction writing.
Read this book, and then go read all of John McPhee's books. He's an American treasure and a singular talent in narrative nonfiction writing.
November 13, 2023
Encounters with the Archdruid by John McPhee
"The force of nostalgia in Brower is such that it can in some instances bend logic. A railroad over the Sierra is all right. It was there. An interstate highway is an assault on the terrain."
Welcome to a review of perhaps my favorite non-fiction book. This is re-read #7 in my project to re-read my favorite 5 star books. Penned in 1971 by the wunderkind and creative non-fiction Pulitzer winning author from Princeton, John McPhee. This book also served as a contemporary homage to the inimitable David Brower that he mentioned in his own memoirs. Encounters with the Archdruid is heavy on the natural world - which is typical of McPhee - but it also has great storytelling with well drawn real life characters. There is also a lot of humor which is atypical of McPhee's works. There are some spoilers that follow.
For more than a year McPhee traveled around the country with Brower as he visited endangered areas. McPhee settled on three wilderness trips where they discussed the threatened areas with staunch capitalists. The areas are Glacier Peak, the Grand Canyon, and Cumberland Island and they formed the basis for the three long chapters found in the book.
Eventually all three of these threatened areas were saved from further development and are now designated wilderness areas or National Park units. That there is a thru-line from the book and the work of Brower and others to save these areas is pretty damn cool.
Across a deep gulf of air, and nearly a mile higher than the ground on which we stood, eleven miles away by line of sight, was Glacier Peak - palpable, immediate, immense
The first section is called the Mountain and describes a backpacking trip that took place in the Glacier Peak Wilderness with McPhee, Brower, and a respected metallurgy expert, Charles Park. They were there to investigate a copper claim and to witness this extraordinarily beautiful area. The banter, as described by McPhee, between the two experts on both sides of the arguments were vivid. Brower could not understand why anyone would want to pollute this area with a copper mine and the metallurgist animatedly explain that the world would always need more copper.
In October 1968, three Carnegies -Tom, Andrew, and Henry - sold three thousand acres of Cumberland Island for one and a half million dollars to Charles Fraser
The second section is called An Island and is about saving a reclaimed wilderness that was Cumberland Island after a housing developer had bought the Carnegie property that made up a portion of the island. This chapter pits Brower against Frasier - a wealthy and gregarious real estate developer from Hilton Head. That Brower won this battle was the most inexplicable victory in the book. I especially liked this chapter because there was a lot of history dating prior to the Civil War. Brower admits that he personally didn't find seagrass and sand dunes all that beautiful but he fought for it because protecting such unique areas is vital.
Brower pointed to strange striations in jagged shapes on the opposite canyon wall. "That is hieroglyphic, written centuries ago by God himself," he said.
"Yeah. What does it say?", said Dominy.
"It says, 'Don't flood it.'"
The last section is entitled River and is all about the Colorado River and the Grand Canyon. Here Brower and Floyd Dominy - the BLM Commissioner - antagonized each other for several days on their rafting trip down the the iconic river. This was a contentious trip because the BLM was determined to dam the river again, this time within the Grand Canyon itself. Browser had already lost an environmental battle with the creation of Glen Canyon Dam upriver a few years earlier. He wasn't about to let this happen to the Grand Canyon. Back in DC, Brower and the Sierra Club's lobbyists and public relations machines went into hyperdrive. They convinced the American public and Nixon that the dam shouldn't be built. The BLM didn't know what hit them.
McPhee's imagery is extraordinary throughout the book and David Brower was a larger than life figure. Incidentally I have been backpacking in two of the areas and it gives me such a rush of emotion when I read this book. The Glacier Peak area in particular is one of the most beautiful areas on the planet.
6 stars! You should read it, it holds up very well some fifty years later.
"The force of nostalgia in Brower is such that it can in some instances bend logic. A railroad over the Sierra is all right. It was there. An interstate highway is an assault on the terrain."
Welcome to a review of perhaps my favorite non-fiction book. This is re-read #7 in my project to re-read my favorite 5 star books. Penned in 1971 by the wunderkind and creative non-fiction Pulitzer winning author from Princeton, John McPhee. This book also served as a contemporary homage to the inimitable David Brower that he mentioned in his own memoirs. Encounters with the Archdruid is heavy on the natural world - which is typical of McPhee - but it also has great storytelling with well drawn real life characters. There is also a lot of humor which is atypical of McPhee's works. There are some spoilers that follow.
For more than a year McPhee traveled around the country with Brower as he visited endangered areas. McPhee settled on three wilderness trips where they discussed the threatened areas with staunch capitalists. The areas are Glacier Peak, the Grand Canyon, and Cumberland Island and they formed the basis for the three long chapters found in the book.
Eventually all three of these threatened areas were saved from further development and are now designated wilderness areas or National Park units. That there is a thru-line from the book and the work of Brower and others to save these areas is pretty damn cool.
Across a deep gulf of air, and nearly a mile higher than the ground on which we stood, eleven miles away by line of sight, was Glacier Peak - palpable, immediate, immense
The first section is called the Mountain and describes a backpacking trip that took place in the Glacier Peak Wilderness with McPhee, Brower, and a respected metallurgy expert, Charles Park. They were there to investigate a copper claim and to witness this extraordinarily beautiful area. The banter, as described by McPhee, between the two experts on both sides of the arguments were vivid. Brower could not understand why anyone would want to pollute this area with a copper mine and the metallurgist animatedly explain that the world would always need more copper.
In October 1968, three Carnegies -Tom, Andrew, and Henry - sold three thousand acres of Cumberland Island for one and a half million dollars to Charles Fraser
The second section is called An Island and is about saving a reclaimed wilderness that was Cumberland Island after a housing developer had bought the Carnegie property that made up a portion of the island. This chapter pits Brower against Frasier - a wealthy and gregarious real estate developer from Hilton Head. That Brower won this battle was the most inexplicable victory in the book. I especially liked this chapter because there was a lot of history dating prior to the Civil War. Brower admits that he personally didn't find seagrass and sand dunes all that beautiful but he fought for it because protecting such unique areas is vital.
Brower pointed to strange striations in jagged shapes on the opposite canyon wall. "That is hieroglyphic, written centuries ago by God himself," he said.
"Yeah. What does it say?", said Dominy.
"It says, 'Don't flood it.'"
The last section is entitled River and is all about the Colorado River and the Grand Canyon. Here Brower and Floyd Dominy - the BLM Commissioner - antagonized each other for several days on their rafting trip down the the iconic river. This was a contentious trip because the BLM was determined to dam the river again, this time within the Grand Canyon itself. Browser had already lost an environmental battle with the creation of Glen Canyon Dam upriver a few years earlier. He wasn't about to let this happen to the Grand Canyon. Back in DC, Brower and the Sierra Club's lobbyists and public relations machines went into hyperdrive. They convinced the American public and Nixon that the dam shouldn't be built. The BLM didn't know what hit them.
McPhee's imagery is extraordinary throughout the book and David Brower was a larger than life figure. Incidentally I have been backpacking in two of the areas and it gives me such a rush of emotion when I read this book. The Glacier Peak area in particular is one of the most beautiful areas on the planet.
6 stars! You should read it, it holds up very well some fifty years later.
August 11, 2017
Non-fiction: A mineral engineer, a resort developer and dam builder take a walk, or a jeep, or a raft, through the wilderness with David Brower - conservation giant. McPhee accordingly observes, listens and documents three narratives, which essentially capture the presiding differences between the philosophies of each man.
It would have been so easy for this short book to present binaries of eco-good and anthro-evil. It's certainly possible that McPhee sways towards the former. As it is, however, the narratives provide a wonderfully objective account of the complexities faced by all those involved in the re-shaping of our natural environment. Though the three men "in opposition" to conservation, push consistently for further environmental exploitation in the name of human advancement, they are presented to possess equal integrity to the idealist eco-warrior: a mineral engineer argues - 'we can't stop all this- we must direct it.' The real exploration of the accounts, then, becomes preservation versus conservation.
All that aside, it gets 5* because it's the first non-fiction nature-walk narrative I've managed to find that isn't just one boring woman's journey through the wilderness.
It would have been so easy for this short book to present binaries of eco-good and anthro-evil. It's certainly possible that McPhee sways towards the former. As it is, however, the narratives provide a wonderfully objective account of the complexities faced by all those involved in the re-shaping of our natural environment. Though the three men "in opposition" to conservation, push consistently for further environmental exploitation in the name of human advancement, they are presented to possess equal integrity to the idealist eco-warrior: a mineral engineer argues - 'we can't stop all this- we must direct it.' The real exploration of the accounts, then, becomes preservation versus conservation.
All that aside, it gets 5* because it's the first non-fiction nature-walk narrative I've managed to find that isn't just one boring woman's journey through the wilderness.
August 2, 2007
Great book about the soul of environmentalism. The author perfectly captures the equally valid perspectives of David Brower, former head of the Sierra Club, and the miners, developers and dam-builders to which he stands opposed. Best of all, these perspectives are shown through in-person encounters and the arguments take place in the very settings over which they will fight their battles.
February 8, 2022
This book contains three narratives that introduce the reader to real-life characters who have influenced the way we manage our natural resources in the United States, and particularly in the west. These three fabricated accounts serve to examine the idealism and downfall of our Conservation and Preservation efforts. Of course, there are two sides to every story and in these conversations that's all there is; two sides. Black and white. But that's ok.
I thought McPhee treated this subject with insight and fairness. There is no right answer to what should be done with our precious resources and he didn't try to put one forth. His points were made clearly and I loved the settings in places that I am pretty fond of.
Paperback copy from my library.
I thought McPhee treated this subject with insight and fairness. There is no right answer to what should be done with our precious resources and he didn't try to put one forth. His points were made clearly and I loved the settings in places that I am pretty fond of.
Paperback copy from my library.
February 19, 2025
really interesting commentary on development, conservationism, and preservationism that is still very pertinent today. really made me reflect on my identity as an environmentalist. worth a read.
January 21, 2016
Just finished. Absolutely excellent. John McPhee is one of the great nonfiction writers of our time. As a New Yorker staff writer since 1965, he has contributed greatly to my own understanding of geology and natural science in general, as well as the broader and more all-encompassing science of conservation ecology and the environment.
Most poignant is the contrast between the environment of 1971, when this book was written, and the environment of today. The very first paragraph makes this painfully clear. Somehow I doubt that the days when a cabin was buried under snow are going to return.
More to come when I have time.
Most poignant is the contrast between the environment of 1971, when this book was written, and the environment of today. The very first paragraph makes this painfully clear. Somehow I doubt that the days when a cabin was buried under snow are going to return.
More to come when I have time.
January 16, 2019
McPhee is a master Craftsman and one of the few nonfiction writers who can make environmental arguments from the 1960s feel new and vital 50 years later.
August 17, 2017
The Archdruid of the title is David Brower, ousted first Executive Director of the Sierra Club, and the man who in the early 1950s was largely responsible for halting the Echo Park Dam project at the confluence of the Green and Yampa rivers (thus saving Dinosaur National Monument), the act of which symbolically launched the modern conservation movement in the U.S. In this book, creative nonfiction master John McPhee narrates a number of Brower's 'encounters' with various similarly visionary opponents to conservation, including materials engineer and renowned geologist-for-hire Charles Park, resort developer Charles Fraser (designer of Hilton Head Island in South Carolina), and Bureau of Reclamation Chief Floyd Dominy, famous (or infamous, depending on your view) builder of dams.
Brower's foes here are all outdoorsmen in their own right yet fundamentally differ with him through their essential belief in the primacy of practicality when it comes to natural resources. In their eyes, a river is not of any use if it is merely flowing on its own, without being harnessed for energy or water supply. A mountain that has yet to yield its store of copper to humanity is of highly questionable value. A wild, inaccessible island lacking any houses or recreational opportunities is a tragic waste of property. For his part, Brower sees these views as blasphemous, and in these pages he goes toe-to-toe in his firm but cordial way with their proponents. In his rhetoric he often walks the line between conservation and preservation, often leaning more toward the latter (note: exploring the variously interpreted differences between these two concepts and their significance to environmentalism is beyond the scope of this review). McPhee's book is as essential now to an understanding of the basic differences between conservationists and their opponents as it was when it first appeared in 1971. Really, not much has changed since then—as long as humans continue to procreate, conservationists will always be fighting a losing battle.
October 21, 2018
I guess I need to read more John McPhee.
September 27, 2023
For some reason I thought this would be more interesting than it was. David Brower seemed to be mostly making shit up as he went along and not worrying too much about the actual facts. I liked the overall narrative arc of the book (three different trips where they discuss the conservation vs. development question in different settings) but it dragged on a bit.
January 26, 2011
McPhee's account of the conversations between environmentalist David Brower and three representatives of development may be 40 years old, but the issues it sets out are still surprisingly relevant. More than just an issue book, though, it presents the vital and engaging characters who hold the opposing positions and shows how closely intertwined position and and character are. The book is divided into three sections--each is a conversation between Brower and one of his "natural enemies." Although Brower is the central character, McPhee gives a pretty complex picture of him; for instance, we see that he is perfectly willing to distort facts in order to make a winning political argument for the cause he believes in. And the "enemies" come across as principled and thinking. The highlight is the conversation with Floyd Dominy who ran the Bureau of Reclamation. Dominy and Brower travel together on a raft down the Colorado River beginning at the newly-dedicated Glenn Canyon dam and ending at a proposed dam site. McPhee somehow blends argument, character detail, and travelogue into a gripping read.
To see what is essentially a filmed version of the final section of this book with the real characters and the real river, watch the 1997 PBS "Cadillac Desert--the American Nile." Although out of print, the episode has been uploaded to YouTube.
This is a book that I am teaching this semester--it's been a number of years since I last taught it, and it was fun to rediscover how masterfully McPhee put the pieces together.
To see what is essentially a filmed version of the final section of this book with the real characters and the real river, watch the 1997 PBS "Cadillac Desert--the American Nile." Although out of print, the episode has been uploaded to YouTube.
This is a book that I am teaching this semester--it's been a number of years since I last taught it, and it was fun to rediscover how masterfully McPhee put the pieces together.
July 2, 2019
Not only is this book a classic of environmental literature, it's also a classic of how a writer can get really close to a subject without imposing their views, instead letting the people in the story take center stage. David Brower on the Colorado River with Floyd Dominy, two great men with completely different worldviews, is as good as it gets,. They engage in debate between roaring rapids, and while they remain opponents, they emerge as friends. Powerful. I lived this. Around 2009, I arranged for a sequel that I'd write for Mother Jones. I went down the Colorado with Rich Ingebretsen of the Glen Canyon Institute and Paul Ostapuk of Friends of Lake Powell, who debated the merits of decommissioning Glen Canyon Dam and draining Lake Powell. Mother Jones decided I wasn't anti-dam enough and killed the story. I quit writing for them.
October 2, 2019
Very enlightening. McPhee's writing style is very unique - sometimes boring but frequently brilliant (I'll post some examples below). What I like about him most is the subjects (human and otherwise) he chooses to write about. Most of his topics deal with the interaction of humans and nature. He's regarded as an environmental writer, but I find him quite balanced. His foils are presented as very human and sympathetic. I came away with an appreciation for both sides of the issues, which is a sign that McPhee has done his job right.
December 18, 2012
Hilarious yet very serious.
Only somebody as idiosyncratic and droll a writer as John McPhee could get long-time Sierra Club leader David Brower in the same book -- let alone on the same pages, at the same place, and even in the same boat -- as one of his top enemies for many years, Bureau of Reclamation chief Floyd Dominy.
If you know anything about Dominy, as well as Brower, you know this book is worth reading for that reason alone.
Only somebody as idiosyncratic and droll a writer as John McPhee could get long-time Sierra Club leader David Brower in the same book -- let alone on the same pages, at the same place, and even in the same boat -- as one of his top enemies for many years, Bureau of Reclamation chief Floyd Dominy.
If you know anything about Dominy, as well as Brower, you know this book is worth reading for that reason alone.
December 9, 2016
McPhee is a master of nonfiction. I admire the way McPhee presented individuals who had opposing points of view about wilderness in the Sierra Nevadas, an island off the coast of South Carolina, and the Colorado River. Written in 1971, the book is worth reading today.
October 23, 2017
Brilliantly constructed, poignant.
December 9, 2020
Written as three New Yorker articles in 1971. McPhee sets up three outdoor adventures with David Brower, the former Director of the Sierra Club who has been recently ousted after 17 years in the post for being too extreme on environmental issues and overspending against the club's budget. This is despite growing the Club from 7000 members in 1952 focused on the outdoors, mountaineering, the Sierra and John Muir's Legacy to 70,000 members with an influential impact on environmental policy and legislation. Brower was an avid climber in the 30's logging 70 first ascents of peaks in the Sierras and elsewhere. He left his job with the UC Berkley Press in 1942 to join the 10th Mountain Division as a training officer, fought in the Alps of Italy, earned the Bronze Star and then returned to UC. A fascinating man and the Archdruid of the title.
McPhee's and Brower's companions are men almost equally impressive and committed on the other side of the environmental spectrum.
The first is Charles Park a field geologist and Stanford mineral scientist who had explored the world in search of ore deposits. Together the three men backpack the Glacier Peak wilderness of the Washington Cascades which Brower wants to preserve and Park wants to extract as a source of copper.
The second is Charles Fraser an old money Georgian who developed Hilton Head Island with covenants strictly controlling the appearance and look of the island. Fraser has just purchased a large piece of Cumberland Island, an un-developed sea island in Southeast Georgia owned largely by the Carnegie family. Together the three camp and explore the island and discuss what this island can be in the future. Is it better to leave it as hard to access wilderness or to develop it in a protected fashion to open it up so others can have the experience.
The third is Floyd Dominy, director of the US Bureau of Reclamation whose signature project was the building of the Glen Canyon Dam and the forming of Lake Powell. The three explore Lake Powell and take a multi-day whitewater raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. Dominy wants to build another dam south of Grand Canyon to impound more water and generate more power.
In today's world you would feel Brower and these companions would never want to be in the same room together, much less share a raft, tent or canteen. McPhee lays out the viewpoints of all and concisely identifies what drives each of them. Park and Dominy come from environments where they believe that natural resources can be harvested responsibly against Browers viewpoint that we have lost so much of the world's wilderness that what remains should be protected so that future generations can experience it. These sections with Park and Dominy were the most interesting contrast of character.
Fraser feels the force of his will can steer the responsible development of any land, similar to the way it worked on Hilton Head. Fraser is not as linked to the outdoors as Dominy and Park, but his give and take with other old land owners on Cumberland is amusing.
The scorecard 50 years later. Glacier Peak was finally protected as a wilderness in 2010 by the Wild Sky Wilderness Act protecting it from mining. Dominy's plan for a Grand Canyon dam that would have flooded Havasupai Canyon was never brought to fruition. Fraser sold his interest in Cumberland Island and in 1972 it became a National Seashore with 9800 acres of protected wilderness. Brower's legacy won out.
McPhee's and Brower's companions are men almost equally impressive and committed on the other side of the environmental spectrum.
The first is Charles Park a field geologist and Stanford mineral scientist who had explored the world in search of ore deposits. Together the three men backpack the Glacier Peak wilderness of the Washington Cascades which Brower wants to preserve and Park wants to extract as a source of copper.
The second is Charles Fraser an old money Georgian who developed Hilton Head Island with covenants strictly controlling the appearance and look of the island. Fraser has just purchased a large piece of Cumberland Island, an un-developed sea island in Southeast Georgia owned largely by the Carnegie family. Together the three camp and explore the island and discuss what this island can be in the future. Is it better to leave it as hard to access wilderness or to develop it in a protected fashion to open it up so others can have the experience.
The third is Floyd Dominy, director of the US Bureau of Reclamation whose signature project was the building of the Glen Canyon Dam and the forming of Lake Powell. The three explore Lake Powell and take a multi-day whitewater raft trip down the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon. Dominy wants to build another dam south of Grand Canyon to impound more water and generate more power.
In today's world you would feel Brower and these companions would never want to be in the same room together, much less share a raft, tent or canteen. McPhee lays out the viewpoints of all and concisely identifies what drives each of them. Park and Dominy come from environments where they believe that natural resources can be harvested responsibly against Browers viewpoint that we have lost so much of the world's wilderness that what remains should be protected so that future generations can experience it. These sections with Park and Dominy were the most interesting contrast of character.
Fraser feels the force of his will can steer the responsible development of any land, similar to the way it worked on Hilton Head. Fraser is not as linked to the outdoors as Dominy and Park, but his give and take with other old land owners on Cumberland is amusing.
The scorecard 50 years later. Glacier Peak was finally protected as a wilderness in 2010 by the Wild Sky Wilderness Act protecting it from mining. Dominy's plan for a Grand Canyon dam that would have flooded Havasupai Canyon was never brought to fruition. Fraser sold his interest in Cumberland Island and in 1972 it became a National Seashore with 9800 acres of protected wilderness. Brower's legacy won out.
September 17, 2024
Encounters with the Archdruid was an eye-opening book to say the least.
So much about the Westward Expansion has been fascinating for someone like myself who immigrated to the East Coast from abroad and has remained there ever since. But the expansion is not what this book is about. Yet, the book, along with the conversations on preservation and development, is inextricably tied to this outward movement, a movement of people and all their desires, that beckons us with the question, "how shall we confront the new, while preserving the old".
I'll never forget the vitality that sprouted within me the moment I saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time, nor will I ever forget the fire kindling with me as I traversed the slopes of Mt. Werner. But the truth is, I believe I did forget this, to some degree, 3 years later, as I write now.
The cover of this book is a painting of the Hetch Hetchy Valley by Albert Bierstadt. The Valley is now the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir that supplies water for San Francisco and the residents of its outer Bay Area. There was a seven year struggle to preserve the biodiversity and cultural impact of the Valley, but the needs modernity ultimately prevailed. The painting provides context on the structure of the book and the aims of its protagonist/mountaineer - David Brower - of the Sierra Club. A badass dude, who sought to embody the legacy of John Muir.
Hetch Hetchy Valley painting by Bierstadt
Thanks to John McPhee, I aim to forever look at the natural world, including the city scapes I navigate, through a different lens. I have a tendency to forget, but McPhee along with Brower and the other characters of this story, urge me to never stop looking outwards, never stop exploring, never stop pushing the frontiers of my knowledge.
So much about the Westward Expansion has been fascinating for someone like myself who immigrated to the East Coast from abroad and has remained there ever since. But the expansion is not what this book is about. Yet, the book, along with the conversations on preservation and development, is inextricably tied to this outward movement, a movement of people and all their desires, that beckons us with the question, "how shall we confront the new, while preserving the old".
I'll never forget the vitality that sprouted within me the moment I saw the Rocky Mountains for the first time, nor will I ever forget the fire kindling with me as I traversed the slopes of Mt. Werner. But the truth is, I believe I did forget this, to some degree, 3 years later, as I write now.
The cover of this book is a painting of the Hetch Hetchy Valley by Albert Bierstadt. The Valley is now the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir that supplies water for San Francisco and the residents of its outer Bay Area. There was a seven year struggle to preserve the biodiversity and cultural impact of the Valley, but the needs modernity ultimately prevailed. The painting provides context on the structure of the book and the aims of its protagonist/mountaineer - David Brower - of the Sierra Club. A badass dude, who sought to embody the legacy of John Muir.
Hetch Hetchy Valley painting by Bierstadt
Thanks to John McPhee, I aim to forever look at the natural world, including the city scapes I navigate, through a different lens. I have a tendency to forget, but McPhee along with Brower and the other characters of this story, urge me to never stop looking outwards, never stop exploring, never stop pushing the frontiers of my knowledge.
March 13, 2018
As timely today as when McPhee wrote it in 1971, "Encounters with the Archdruid" tells three environmental stories involving four men who are at once archetypes (a mineral engineer, a resort developer, a dam builder, and a militant conservationist) and, at the same time, real humans who are vividly portrayed by the author. While this may not be a book I would have picked up myself, I am glad my son-in-law, Ben, gave it to me to read. I can identify both with the naive young environmentalist I was in my 1970s college years as well as the Baby Boomer who continues to witness the ongoing battles between those who would bend the environment to do their will in the pursuit of the almighty dollar and those who seek to preserve our land for this and future generations. The essential rules of engagement have changed mightily in the 47 years since this book was published. However, respecting and maintaining our environment has become even more urgent and important. Kudos to McPhee for skillfully capturing a moment in time that continues to resonate profoundly today.
March 17, 2025
“I swear the sunset is slower than the sunrise”
Perhaps the only book to have ever brought me to the edge of tears through its description of a landscape, perhaps the only one to ever do so. Reading it in the present day feels like walking through a canyon marked by petroglyphs, art made with a perspective I can never know. No one here is evil, no one here can truly claim to be good, but back then I think everyone could say they did what they did with love. I don’t think much of anything at this point is lost, but we play a far different kind of game today. Some in the book say conservation is about keeping things the way they are forever, today I think it’s just about holding onto whatever we have left. I’m no Druid, but I think I hear less birdsong every year. They didn’t know how good they had it back then, and back then they didn’t know it was before them.
Perhaps the only book to have ever brought me to the edge of tears through its description of a landscape, perhaps the only one to ever do so. Reading it in the present day feels like walking through a canyon marked by petroglyphs, art made with a perspective I can never know. No one here is evil, no one here can truly claim to be good, but back then I think everyone could say they did what they did with love. I don’t think much of anything at this point is lost, but we play a far different kind of game today. Some in the book say conservation is about keeping things the way they are forever, today I think it’s just about holding onto whatever we have left. I’m no Druid, but I think I hear less birdsong every year. They didn’t know how good they had it back then, and back then they didn’t know it was before them.
April 7, 2017
McPhee is an extremely talented writer and in his (now classic) work of environmental literature he presents the issues with the complex analysis they deserve. No matter where one stands on the issues, this book is a good read. The WSJ review on the back of the book is wrong; this isn't about choosing sides, it's about understanding all of the ways the issue can be seen, the complex details and everyone's own contradictions. McPhee's well-crafted prose make reading this a breeze, so check it out!
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