Between then and now, I shudder to think. By showing us each and every detail of the landscape and so meticulously describing the ecological particularities of the region, Graves also demonstrates just how far we’d come from the “old ones,” who settled the region in the nineteenth century, in terms of local knowledge: the particularities of trees and soil, how to read the weather, what is edible, the subtleties in the river’s flow, and of course who might greet a tired passerby with a shotgun. The Brazos is both awesome and simply there. The book is wonderful because it seamlessly blends the often appalling history of the Indian-European conflicts in the area with descriptions of the landscape that make each turn in the river both breathtaking and mundane. He intended to get in one last trip before the river was dammed, forever altering its landscape and, to Graves anyway, its spirit. Published in 1960, Graves narrates his float down a stretch of the Brazos River, Texas’s largest, south and west of Fort Worth.

Having been gone from Texas for a couple years I’ve retained a general interest in its history and traditions, and I used the opportunity to read John Graves’ Goodbye to a River, long considered a foundational work in the history of Texas conservation and about as good a work on the relationship between ecological history and regional history as I’ve ever read. In May of 2014 I returned to Austin for one last research trip before finally sitting down and completing my book on Austin’s history. Courtesy of Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

John graves goodbye to a river