MIRACLE COUNTRY

A sensitive, thoughtful portrait of a part of California that few people see—or want to.

The area around Bishop, California, was robbed of its water decades ago to fuel the growth of greater Los Angeles. That is the central fact of Atleework’s celebration of a place swept by vast dust storms and economic dislocation, its neighboring mountains prone to burst into flames at a moment’s notice. Another central fact is a family that is indisputably eccentric but perfectly suited to the place. “Every family cultivates a culture and lives by its own strangeness until the strangeness turns normal and the rest of the world looks a little off,” she writes, and the aperçu is exactly right. Her mother labored for years under the death sentence of a little-understood cancer while her father sold maps he made and explored the surrounding country with the inquisitive intensity of a 19th-century surveyor. All deserts are places of absence, but the desert of the Eastern Sierra is more lacking than most. As Atleework writes, “In my first five years of life, less than twelve inches of precipitation fell.” And yet, as one environmentalist remarks, the fact that LA takes away such little water as the place can deliver means that growth is something for other places to experience. The locals like it that way just fine, by Atleework’s sometimes repetitive account. One who traveled to LA for medical treatment returned appalled by the smog and traffic, even more so by plans to desalinate ocean water to sustain still more growth. “Imagine this state with unlimited water,” he told the author. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.” It makes a fine motto for a region that Atleework clearly loves.

A welcome update of classic works on California’s arid backcountry by Mary Austin, Marc Reisner, and Reyner Banham.