
Timothy Egan, speaking at Summer Fishtrap
Mike Midlo / Courtesy of Fishtrap
Seattle writer Timothy Egan explores flashpoints in American history, mining unexpectedly personal stories out of broad and often well-worn narratives.
His most famous, "The Worst Hard Time," chronicling Dust Bowl stories, won a National Book Award. Egan's also written about the photographer Edward Curtis, and the wildfire that gave rise to the U.S. Forest Service. He's a contributing op-ed writer for the New York Times. Egan delivered the keynote address at Summer Fishtrap. You'll be able to listen to our full conversation on this week's State of Wonder, Saturday at noon. For now, here's some of our conversation about the stories hiding in plain sight.
- On what he's looking for as a reader and as a writer:
I'm always looking for something that can surprise me. As a native Pacific Northwesterner, third generation, I'm looking to tell our own stories. So much of the United States has been strip-mined of story and put into mythology, much of it highly inaccurate. In the Pacific Northwest, most of our stories are relatively unknown. I want to read something new and fresh that taps into the sense of wonder we have out here.
- On finding hidden stories for "The Worst Hard Time":
Serendipity is wandering around and hoping you stumble into something. What I do — I wouldn't call it forced serendipity — but I hope something happens! In the Dust Bowl story, we had this original narrative — Steinbeck's version — the largest movement of Americans in our history moving from the Dust Bowl to the West Coast.
But the other story was what happened to the two-thirds of people who didn't go anywhere, and lived through this extraordinary environmental catastrophe. I would start to hear these amazing tales: the day turning to midnight at noon, storms the size of a mountain range, static electricity that wouldn't' allow you to touch another human being. I saw it developing when I was talking to these people. Most of whom are now gone.
- On what unites Western writers:
That's the one thing I think is consistent, whether you live in the city or the country. I live in Seattle, a metro area of three million people. Two weeks ago I went for a hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. It took me 45 minutes to get from downtown Seattle to get to the trailhead. And I was looking out over glaciers. For all the permutations of what we've gone through, I see the consistency being public land.
- On what he is working on now:
I was in Helena, Montana some years ago. Outside the capitol there's this enormous equestrian statue of a man with a sword raised in the air. I said, "Who the hell is that?" And the Governor turned to me and said, "You call yourself an Irish-American and you don't know who this is?" It's Thomas Francis Meagher, who was the first territorial acting governor of Montana.
He was also an Irish patriot, who fought against the British during the Great Famine. He's sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered, but his sentence is commuted to lifetime banishment in Tasmania. He goes there, escapes, comes to New York City, and found stye Irish brigade in the Civil War, fighting on the side of the Union, and ends his life as the Governor. It's a wonderful way to tell the Irish American story.