Language In the Blood
Gibbs Smith, 1991
Edward Abbey Ecofiction Prize winner
Summary
Scott Talmadge is a birder, recruited from Massachusetts, to teach ornithology at the University of Arizona in Tucson. He seeks out and stays with Tilghman, an old friend, who, unbeknownst to Scott, runs a secret network that brings refugees into the United States. In finding out what Tilghman is doing, Scott finds himself inexorably drawn into the enterprise. Language in the Blood details the beauty of the Southwestern landscape, while simultaneously exploring Scott’s involvement in a dangerous situation. Nelson's ability to weave together personal matters, psychological realities, and larger global concerns in clear, quiet prose is a tour de force.
Critical Praise
“Language in the Blood is indeed a dreamy novel, a romantic's must-read. Not only does it imbue the stark Sonoran landscape with a sort of dusty, sun-baked poetry, but it attempts to find a place in our world for such old-fashioned ideals as sacrifice, loyalty, and commitment.”
—Paul Hadella, Western American Literature Journal
“Like Dan O’Brien and Tom McGuane, Kent Nelson manages to convey grandly what people and places make of each other.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“His lean, smooth style lends itself to a thoroughly believable work of fiction about the delicacy and texture of relationships. Nelson treats his characters with thoughtfulness and grace, allowing them to deal with their fears and flaws with unfailing honesty. We come away richer for the experience.”
—Boston Globe
“Overall, the extremely detailed and emotionally evocative writing goes farther than anything else I have read to achieve the sense and shape of a word symphony. Themes appear, then blend, then reappear in more complicated form. . . Everything is so plausible, so completely laid out, that I had to tell myself that, no, this is not an explication of Kent Nelson’s life; this is finely detailed fiction!”
—Frank Fetters, from The Constant Reader
Quotes from Book
“I think I know now why I wanted to see the rail,” I said. “It’s because birds are in me. They are in my blood, like a language. They were what I first knew how to love.”
From Language in the Blood
“We didn’t make much of a ritual of it. We hiked up early in the morning before the clouds started in over the mountains. It was a pretty morning of blues and grays in the Sierritas and the Rincons. We could see Tucson’s haze in the far distance, and the cloud shadows on the desert all around us. The sun was warm, but the breeze up high was cool. Francie said a few words. Martha said a prayer. Each of us tossed some of Tilghman’s ashes into the wind.”
From Language in the Blood