FOLLOWING THE WATER, A Hydromancer’s Notebook
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
National Book Awards, 2009 Nonfiction Finalist David M. Carroll
“In a voice that is lyrical, wise, probing, and vulnerable, David M. Carroll’s ‘Following the Water’ finds a place in the exalted tradition of American nature writing that includes such classics as ‘Walden’, ‘Silent Spring’, and ‘Sand County Almanac’. The deep intimacy with the natural world that Carroll evokes in his literary chronicle of wandering familiar wetlands of his native New Hampshire takes on startling poignancy as it becomes evident how encroaching urban development threatens the world and the magical bonds to it nurtured by this extraordinary writer.”
—National Book Foundation, Judges’ Citation
As soon as my completed manuscript and art work for “Self-Portrait With Turtles” went off to the publisher I turned back to my idea of a more metaphysical (for want of a better word) , or “meditational” book, one more akin to Wang Wei’s “sitting by the stream in forgetfulness.”
I had drafts for the chapter with this approach, this sensibility and nature, that I had withdrawn from “Swampwalker’s Journal”, with the idea of using it for a someday book. I also had a sizable collection of notes – ideas, images, observations – some that I had written in my Digs notebooks, many more as brief drafts; fragments jotted down on index cards; scraps of paper and the like.
All of these were marked with a red square containing a red letter “H”, for “Hydromancer”, a designation for my original working title turned subtitle: “A Hydromancer’s Notebook.” I loved this title, but in the end thought that such an esoteric word might well turn more potential readers away than serve as a draw to investigate the book. I am not sure if it would have passed editing by the publisher. As a subtitle it did attract a great deal of curiosity, not without attentive interest, as I gave readings.
A hydromancer is one who divines by way of observing water, its colors, movements, etc. It also refers to one who divines obscure knowledges by other than human means.
I do not proclaim to be a seer, diviner, or prophet, but I am a constant wader in and observer of water’s ecological and other manifestations. Whether wildly rushing or mirror-still, water mesmerizes.
I wrote in a Digs notebook as I came up out of a wood-turtle stream, “I do not have answers, I have things to go by.”
Leonardo Da Vinci was famously enthralled by water in all its aspects, its power and beauty; and it certainly informed his scientific and artistic geniuses.
The inspiration for Following the Water arose from my decades of literally following the water, from wading spotted-turtle migration streams to the brooks and less-frequented reaches of rivers inhabited by wood turtles, and from my seasonal trackings from one still-water wetland to another.
The book I had long considered would be laced with thoughts and observations occurring along the way. It would be a naturalist’s as well as writer’s and artist’s book, but without the more extensive layer of scientific ecological background that was a supportive feature of my “wet sneaker trilogy.” Water itself would be a primary character.
Spring Brook
“Carroll provides a luminous chronicle of his annual quests in “Following the Water”, a finalist for this year’s National Book Award. [He] succeeds by giving himself over to the rhythms of the wetlands…”
—The Boston Globe; the best nonfiction of 2009.
After reviewing and roughly organizing my raw material, I drew up a proposal, remembering what Harry Foster had said about Houghton Mifflin being likely to think, if I were to submit another nature title, that the assessment would be that I had already written the book.
Houghton Mifflin had recently undergone a merger with Harcourt, a major textbook company. I was unsure about what effect, if any, the merger would have on Houghton’s long-standing tradition of and commitment to publishing nature writing.
These considerations did not arise. My proposal was accepted, Meredith negotiated a contract, and I was engaged in my fifth consecutive book project, my third with Harry Foster as editor.
“Following the Water is subtitled “A Hydromancer’s Notebook”; a hydromancer is one who divines by the motions and appearance of water, which is certainly descriptive of what David Carroll does in his life and in this book, a poetic journal of a year of divining the natural world by close observation of it… what is so beautiful about Carroll’s work and his writing about it, is the depth of his observation, and his literal being in place. Reading his elegiac descriptions of the watery environs of New England transports me to an almost metaphysical trance-like state of mind where I could imagine myself inhabiting the outside space in which he spends so much time.”
—David Wilk, Writerscast
The history of our economics, based on Laurette’s and my free lance art lives, had always been challenging, often enough perilously so. With the book era being extended, that status was destined to remain unchanged. The books had done a great deal for me on many fronts, but the nature of nature writing is rarely one of economic advancement. According to a pie graph I once came across, poetry was the only genre with a smaller slice of readership.
In the midst of this book commitment our financial status changed dramatically, via a phone call out of the bluest of blues. I had for years talked about getting a MacArthur… the so-called “genius grant”. My remarks usually took the form of a jest, the odds being what they were. And yet I couldn’t say that deep down I was not serious. Perhaps wild thoughts came because there was no plan “B”.
Somewhere around my third year into “Following the Water”, on a morning in late summer, the phone rang. I was not away in the Digs. Laurette, who always screened my calls, answered, and then came to me with the telephone.
Surprised to be on call, I asked “who is it?”
“I don’t know”.
This was not a particularly comforting response. I had to take the call. Words cannot describe… but in my archive component entitled “Seldom Seen”, I detail my extraordinary conversation with Daniel Sockolow, at that time the director of the MacArthur Fellowship Program. He was calling from the Foundation’s headquarters in Chicago to congratulate me on my being named a MacArthur Fellow.
When I relayed the stunning news to Laurette she told me, It sounded important.”
I had in fact been awarded a MacArthur Foundation Fellowship, one of the twenty five selected every year. At that time, the Fellowship came with a $500,000.00 stipend – it has since been elevated to $650,000.00. This absolutely no-strings-attached funding has a primary dedication to fostering “extreme creativity”, in fields as diverse as astrophysics, medical research, journalism, and the arts… extending to swampwalking.
For the first time in my life I had financial backing that would support my art, naturalist’s quests, and writing. The fact that my work, my passion (as it is often put), encompassed and integrated all three arenas played a significant role in my receiving the fellowship.
My advocacy for the preservation natural ecosystems and their ecologies was another major consideration.
The grant would assist Laurette’s art as well as my endeavors for some time to come. In my mind the Foundation had gotten two for the price of one.
Studies of a yellowthroat
I was told not say anything to anyone other than my wife (“We know that you work together…”) for nineteen days. Not even telling our three children, we kept the secret. The nineteen days were to allow notification to all recipients of the year’s Fellowship, and for publicity arrangements for the eventual announcement to be made.
“When the press calls, talk with them. Otherwise, not a word to anyone.”
“David Carroll was a child when he fell in love with turtles . Since then the water has become his temple, his calendar, his scrap-book…Completed with the help of a 2006 MacArthur ‘genius’ award, ‘Following the Water’ is equal parts love poem, prayer, and elegy for a once vibrant ecology threatened by the heavy tread of humans.”
—Kara Peters, ‘Bookshelf’; Tufts Magazine
[Tufts University is one of my alma meters, along with the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.]
When the the news was released, globally, my phone started ringing, and rang non-stop for two days. I was happy enough with answering these. One of the first congratulatory calls came from the vice president of HMH, who went on to say how proud the publisher was.
But as we continued talking she shared heartbreaking news from the other end of the emotional spectrum. She asked if I knew that Harry was ill. I had no idea. I had been out of touch with him for some weeks as I worked on text that I was just about to send to him. She informed me that he had been diagnosed with brain tumors, and had left publishing for a time.
“We feel lost without Harry,’’ she told me, adding that he had long been the glue that held the division together.
She went on to say that Deanne Urmy would be taking over for Harry as editor of my book in progress. She added that there was universal agreement that Deanne was the perfect one to carry the book forward, filling me in with the background that she had been with Houghton for six years.
Prior to that Deanne was with Beacon Press in Boston, where she served as an editor working with authors in the field of nature writing. Deanne was familiar with my work, and was looking forward to working with me, although the transition had come about through the saddest circumstances.
The vice president (I have forgotten her name; it is in my records) told me she had called Harry to tell him the MacArthur news. She talked with his wife, Susan, who told her he was sleeping. Susan asked her to let me know that Harry would call me when he woke up.
Harry’s wife, Susan Lin Meddaugh, is the author and illustrator of the very popular Martha Speaks children’s book series. She, Harry, and their young son Niko had come for a tour of the Digs with me one summer while I was working on Swampwalker’s Journal.
Harry had become very interested in buying a swamp, and later on looked into a possibility only three miles from where we lived. I was familiar with this large beaver wetland complex, which was not far from the Digs as well. His plan (a dream I share) did not work out, and his intent never came to fruition.
That afternoon Harry called to congratulate me. It was a shared congratulation. My books were a significant factor in my being named a MacArthur Fellow, and of course Harry was a central part of my history with them. He told me that this was the best news he had heard in years.
After telling me that he would be out of publishing for at least a year, Harry expressed his sincere doubts that he would ever be back.
“I have thought about what you told me”, he said, “about how when times were really tough you and Laurette hunkered down like the turtles and waited it out, held on until things would turn around. I have decided to take that approach with this illness. I’m not going to join a support group or anything like that. I’m going to reduce my stress load and do a lot of the reading I have always wanted to get to.”
Painted turtle among lily pads
That was the last time I talked with Harry. He did not survive the year, a great personal loss, a loss to so many, and a loss to publishing. I was interviewed by a reporter from the Boston Globe to talk about my author-editor relationship with him, and offer comments for his obituary.
I dedicated the book we had begun to him, along with my invaluable long-time agent Meredith Bernstein, and a great friend and confidant in matters of books and much besides, Jim Mitchell.
Gray tree frog
“This collection of notes and drawings runs from March to November; from the first days of spring, ‘the season of remembering,’ when the water is ‘set free,’ to the long shadows and glittering light of early winter, when ‘the alder shadows creep across the snow,’… He marvels at gray tree frogs, red deer and gray foxes. His detailed, beautifully shaded drawings illuminate the text; his patience is contagious. ‘There are no empty hours in these wild places,’ he writes, ‘no unit of time in which nothing happens.’ ”
—Susan Salter Reynolds, Los Angeles Times
Work on the final phases of the book with Deanne, who edited with a very light but insightful touch, went seamlessly. Harry’s loss was a constant background for both of us, largely unspoken, as we completed the project.
“Hydromancer’s Notebook” was published in 2009, in another beautifully produced edition. The most original artistic cover designs, superbly keyed to what I had written, were hallmarks of all of my books.
Martha Kennedy once again created a splendid cover, fully evocative of the book’s essence and content. She had even asked me to send her plants from places in which I followed the water to consider in her designing. I sincerely hoped that people would judge this book by its cover.
Lisa Dierk’s designing of the book’s interior carried on these qualities. Her use of my pen and ink drawing of a map – “The Wetland Mosaic”- for the endpapers, was a masterful touch. A double-poster-size enlargement of this map was used on a wall above a display case in one of my gallery rooms of my Currier Museum exhibition. This image attracted constant attention and comment from viewers.
Book with map as endpapers
In the autumn of its appearance, Following the Water brought me another out-of-the-bluest-of-blues telephone call, this from Harold Augenbraum, Executive Director of the National Book Foundation. He called to express congratulations: my book had been nominated as a National Book Award Finalist in nonfiction.
Harold told me that it was exceedingly rare to have a book in my genre among the five annual nominations in the nonfiction category. As with the MacArthur Fellowship, this was not only an affirmation of my work, but a means for me to bring recognition to the nature writing genre, and something of great substance for me to offer my publisher, editor, and agent.
This recognition came closely on the heels of another, as I had recently been notified that I was to receive the New Hampshire Writers’ Project Lifetime Achievement Award, for my collected works. The presentation was to be made at the Project’s annual Literary Awards celebration, on the fourteenth of November, four days before the National Book Award gala.
I don’t expect I’ll have another awards week to compare with this.
Harold explained that the awards ceremony would be held at Cipriani’s Wall Street, in New York City, on the eighteenth of November. This was the long-standing venue for the national Book Awards.
He also advised me that it was a black-tie event. Privately, I guessed correctly that that meant I would need to wear a tuxedo. I happened to have one. My one child who went for a rather luxurious wedding made it a requisite. Laurette found one at the Salvation Army.
She dug it out of the closet under the stairs in the hallway. Many years had passed since that one-time wearing, but it still fit, and I found a bow tie in one of the pockets. After some debate I decided that my omnipresent black headband would be fitting attire to complement the tuxedo and the occasion.
The night before the awards ceremony all writers who had been nominated, five in each of the four categories, gave readings from their works at the New York School. I already felt rewarded as I read my selection.
The next night was every bit a major event in a grand restaurant I couldn’t see across… a sea of uptown tables set for hundreds of uptown people. The press, American and foreign, was there in numbers; as well as established literary celebrities, the well-known and not so well known nominees and their guests.
Gore Vidal was awarded the 2009 Medal for Distinguished Contributions to American Literature, presented by Joanne Woodward. I entered with my entourage of guests – Laurette, Brooklyn-Manhattan daughter Rebecca, and Meredith.
Almost immediately upon entering I was recognized (the headband?) and whisked away to a red carpet, escorted to a place super-illuminated by spotlights, and found myself being interviewed by an announcer for C-span 2, the book channel. I had no idea that this would be part of the occasion.
But I have no trouble giving interviews or talks of any kind on the spur of the moment.
The interviewer, obviously familiar with my book, had well-targeted questions and comments for me to respond to, play off. There were many opportunities for humor. I recall well our exchange resulting from his asking me about the word “hydromancer”. This interview – I can’t recall a more satisfying or more enjoyable one – can still be seen on YouTube.
I found my way to our large and lavish table. The president and vice president of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt were there, accompanied by my editor Deanne Urmy. Once again I was able to bring my publisher, editor, agent, and Laurette to a table.
By remarkable coincidence another Carroll was seated with us, he another Houghton Mifflin Harcourt author, Sean B. Carroll. His book, Remarkable Creatures: Epic Adventures in the Search for the Origin of Species, was also a nominee for a book award in nonfiction. Neither Carroll won the award. A naturalist and a professor of molecular biology and genetics lost out to T.J. Stiles’ The First Tycoon: the Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt.
At the conclusion of the presentations and remarks, conversations flowed as dinner was served. Suddenly someone appeared, crouching by my side. He introduced himself as John Phillip Santos, and told me that he was one of the five judges in non-fiction and wanted to let me know how strongly he felt that my book should have won the award.
I had heard of him, was faintly familiar with his writing, but had never read any of his books. I later found out that his Places Left Unfinished at the Time of Creation was a finalist for a National Book Award in Nonfiction in 1999.
A freelance filmmaker, journalist, and author, he was the first Mexican-American Rhodes Scholar. As I later researched his work and became aware of his numerous remarkable achievements and awards in his varied fields, I was even more deeply honored by his endorsement, and heartened by his personal outreach to me.
“In this sensuous nature journal, MacArthur ‘genius’ Award winner Carroll (The Year of the Turtle) follows the inhabitants of his local New Hampshire wetlands through a season of turtle life from March thaw, when the turtles wake from hibernation, to November, when ice puts them back to sleep, along the way celebrating such holy days as The Return of the Red winged Blackbird… Accompanied by Carroll’s own exquisite drawings, this poetic recording of his season of loving observation is subdued by Carroll’s dread of habitat destruction and nostalgia for a boyhood when ‘I entered waters that, if not alive themselves, were so filled with light and life that my binding with them was as much metaphysical as physical.”
—Publishers Weekly
Water reflections in tree shadows
Notes on FOLLOWING THE WATER Archival Content:
* First edition signed copy with original pencil and watercolor study on title page, signed and dated. [Note: These can also be ordered as individual objects on our web site, https://carrollartgallery.com]
*Book proposal; notes and drafts; unpublished material; correspondence with Harry Foster; editing with Deanne Urmy; other related correspondence.
*24 pen and ink drawings.
* Material relative to New Hampshire Writer’s Project Lifetime Achievement Award.
Material related to national Book Award Finalist award.
* Articles, reviews.
My Five Published Books
Trout Reflections
Following the Water
Year of the Turtle
Self-Portrait With Turtles, A Memoir
Swampwalker’s Journal
Hand Bound Books
A Book of a Number of Hours
A Book of Winter Buds
A Book of Winter Branches
Borradores
Landscapes – January 20, 1978 – April 1978
Variations: February 1, 1967 – August 1, 1968
Visions: Drawings and Paintings: 1976 – 1988
Exhibitions
“Seldom Seen” Exhibition at the Davidow Center
“Beyond Words” Exhibition at the Currier Museum
Galleries
“Seldom Seen” Gallery
David’s Wildlife Studies Sketchbook
Virtual Gallery of Art Produced for My Five Books
“Regarding Women Regarding…” Introduction
Sketchbook Gallery: 4/1/1985 – 10/14/1987
Swamp Sketchbook
The Swamp Dialogs
Drawings and Watercolors Produced to Illustrate my Published Books
CODIT – Compartmentalization of Decay in Trees