Fire Season

Philip Connors describes a summer working as one of America’s few remaining fire lookouts in the wilderness of New Mexico. From his tower in the Gila National Forest, a five-mile hike from the trailhead, Connors can see 20,000 square miles of forests, mountains and desert. He scours the landscape looking for the tell-tale “single snag puffing a little finger of smoke in the air”. To categorise Fire Season is a nightmare, but therein lies its secret. Between its covers are crammed elements of nature writing, travel writing, memoir and some philosophical contemplation of the art of being alone. All told by an engaging likeable narrator whose love of the landscape that surrounds him oozes from every word he pens.
Nic Bottomley (Wed 9th Nov 2011)

In Fire Season, by Philip Connors describes a summer working as one of America’s few remaining fire lookouts in the wilderness of New Mexico.
The book’s premise is intriguing, and it’s a fascinating read that I think would appeal to a broad range of readers.


Connors’ lookout is indeed remote. From his tower in South-West New Mexico’s Gila National Forest, a five-mile hike from the trailhead, which is many miles again from the nearest town, Connors can see 20,000 square miles of forests, mountains and desert.


That kind of scale is pretty tough to convey, as is the peculiar thrill of being alone in the midst of that stunning environment. Fortunately Connors is extremely gifted at describing the majesty of the landscape and his relationship with it. Take his description of the Black Range mountains: “These are not picture-postcard peaks, serrating the sky with shark-tooth shapes of bare rock. Instead they are a doubtful chimera on the edge of the desert, a sky island seeming to shimmer in an April haze”.


April is where the book begins, as Connors arrives at the “Apache Lookout” accompanied by his dog Alice. At that time of year there’s not much chance of naturally occurring fires – in fact there’s still some snow drifts to negotiate on the way up - but there’s all manner of work to be done to set up for the season (much of it centred on the removal of deceased critters from Philip’s cabin and the adjacent fifty-five foot lookout tower). As the season progresses, so the fire-watching begins in earnest with Connors repeatedly scouring the landscape looking out for the tell-tale “single snag puffing a little finger of smoke in the air”.


This book would fail in achieving broad appeal were Connors not so adept at weaving in some technical detail of the process of spotting and reporting back the coordinates of new “smokes” without distracting from the narrative flow. The fact that towards the end of the book phrases such as “I call John at Cherry Mountain for a cross. We triangulate our azimuths and place the fire above Salt Creek”, need no further explanation, is a testament to the author’s talent as a narrator.


To categorise Fire Season bibliographically is a nightmare, but therein lies its secret. Between its covers are crammed elements of nature writing, travel writing, memoir and some philosophical contemplation of the art of being alone. Above all though this book is an inspirational description of one man’s determination to get away from life’s stresses and strains and connect with himself and the world each and every summer. Not to mention a testament to the unfathomable patience of the wife who allows him to do so.
Nic Bottomley (Tue 20th Sep 2011)