Description

Sean Prentiss takes readers into what it means to be a rookie trail-crew leader guiding a motley collection of at-risk teens for five months of backbreaking work in the Pacific Northwest. It is a world where the sounds of trail tools—Pulaskis, McLeods, and hazel hoes—filter into dreams and set the rhythm of each day. In this memoir-in-poems, Prentiss shares a music most of us will never experience, set to tools swung and sharpened, backdropped by rain and snow and sun, as individuals transform into crew.

Genres

About the author(s)

Sean Prentiss is an associate professor of English at Norwich University. He is the author of Finding Abbey: The Search for Edward Abbey and His Hidden Desert Grave (UNM Press) and the coauthor of Environmental and Nature Writing: A Writer's Guide and Anthology. He lives with his family on a small lake in northern Vermont.

Reviews

Crosscut is so much about how life can be molded in a few short months of long days. Prentiss's poems remind you of the work of Gary Snyder and the harsh lives of the characters in Jack Driscoll's short stories. . . . His language is crisp, spare, descriptive.--Robert Halleck, Split Rock Review

At what point does hard labor stop nurturing the body and mind and start harming them? What do people lose when they do their work at keyboards and experience nature primarily as 'recreation'? With grace, power and humor, Crosscut makes us ask such questions as it reminds us of the power of sweat to transform our environments--and ourselves.--Margot Harrison, Seven Days

At what point does hard labor stop nurturing the body and mind and start harming them? What do people lose when they do their work at keyboards and experience nature primarily as 'recreation'? With grace, power and humor, Crosscut makes us ask such questions as it reminds us of the power of sweat to transform our environments--and ourselves.--Margot Harrison, Seven Days

Crosscut is about saving oneself in an unfamiliar and often harsh environment and holding onto this reprogramming when returned to civilization. These poems go much deeper than ax work and shovels. Perhaps we all need to pause for a 'tool count' on occasion.--Betty McCarthy, Roundup Magazine

More from series Mary Burritt Christiansen Poetry Series