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Entering The Stone: On Caves And Feeling Through The Dark
The naturalist-author of Stirring the Mud offers an illuminating study of the natural history and spiritual quality of caves, describing the intriguing interiors of caves around the world, their unusual inhabitants, the fascination caves hold for fellow cavers, and other aspects of these dark and mysterious locales. Reprint.
170 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
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Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews
June 26, 2021
What a perfect read for a sweltering summer day when even the birds are quiet and the air is still and “close” as they say in old books, and also somehow, liminal, paused, nothing shifting but your own breath… all, too, befitting a cave, aside from the heat. So maybe I just happened to be in the right headspace for this book but I loved the slow, meandering ponder of this nature writer. I loved the solid concrete details about caving and cave ecology as much as I loved the glimpses into the dark and spacious tunnels of the author’s mind. Hurd seems to speak for all nature writers and nature writing when she says, “What is it I want? Or need? To consider the possibility that what’s tucked in these inner pockets is nothing, the risk that it’s everything, the danger that it’s both, and that it’s one of my jobs to discover the difference.”
I look forward to more of Hurd’s discoveries in her other books.
I look forward to more of Hurd’s discoveries in her other books.
November 3, 2014
I went into this book expecting adventure, trip debriefs, exultation at the joy of caving, instruction, etc. While some of these things existed in the book it's more abstract than that. Hurd uses the voids in the earth as a metaphor for the voids we face through the grieving process. Throughout this book she explores her feelings of losing a close friend to cancer just as she is navigating the hollow places of the earth. Along with this exploration comes a lot of metaphor and spirituality. I certainly appreciated these ideas and found many of them quite interesting. It just isn't what I was looking for, ultimately.
July 27, 2021
Certain books are obviously written by poets, and this is one. My only experience with caves was total claustrophobia in a crawlspace extension of the Laurel Caverns at summer camp. I got out damp, muddy, sweaty, and vowing never to enter a cave again. Hurd talks about this claustrophobia in the first essay, then goes on to conquer it and explore caves all over the world. Her writing is graceful, descriptive, soaring. My only complaint was that she left one story unfinished. Funny to read her comments on metaphors - they're distracting and even dangerous if you think of them while exploring a cave. Lucky for us, she wrote them down afterwards. I may never go into a cave again, but I really enjoyed this book.
June 11, 2018
I couldn't finish. I can't even explain why I was so turned off by this book. Maybe it's the mistake of trying it directly after reading Helen Macdonald, who is just so much better at natural history.
This is also a book that is supposed to be about nature but is actually about death. But the connection felt forced. This book is also about all the human meaning behind a natural thing. But the meaning-talk obscured the object itself. Also: I was bored.
What's the difference between revelatory introspection and tone-deaf self-centeredness? I don't know, I can't tell, I'm worried that I can't explain why some books are unreadable to me.
This is also a book that is supposed to be about nature but is actually about death. But the connection felt forced. This book is also about all the human meaning behind a natural thing. But the meaning-talk obscured the object itself. Also: I was bored.
What's the difference between revelatory introspection and tone-deaf self-centeredness? I don't know, I can't tell, I'm worried that I can't explain why some books are unreadable to me.
September 20, 2018
Very so so. At one point I did feel claustrophobic very reading her descriptions.
March 10, 2019
A very satisfying read because Hurd incorporates just the right amount of science, thought, and personal experience.
June 11, 2019
Similarly to Stirring the Mud, too much Buddhist and New Age sorts of riffs.
June 8, 2020
Eye opening to new eyes for endarkenment.
January 12, 2024
Somehow this is exactly what I needed to read.
December 19, 2012
For the uninitiated, Entering the Stone is about caving. Like Terry Tempest Williams' Refuge, it's also about death. And like Refuge, it uses the one subject to talk about the other. (Thankfully, unlike Refuge, Entering the Stone dedicates fewer pages to purple prose and to conversations that I find problematic.) Perhaps it is somewhat unoriginal to use a cave as a symbolic place of transformation, given the long history of Platonic philosophy's influence on Western society, but there is still some untrodden ground. Few modern cavers seem to have both the interest and ability to write about what they find in the deep darks, but few outside of their somewhat exclusive fold have the authority. Here is where Hurd finds a toehold--a tenuous, but interesting grip on the subject.
Hurd is what I would call a dedicated caver and what dedicated cavers would probably call an amateur. She recounts her beginnings here, in Entering the Stone, and I wouldn't really be able to tell you whether she continued to develop her love of the underground after the book was finished. Probably. Clearly, her decision to overcome her fears and claustrophobia was deeply rooted in her love for a dying friend--a friend who, apparently, was big into caves.
I think I connected with this book because of Hurd's seemingly effortless ability to explore the spiritual and emotional consequences of friendship, death, and healing through a physical exploration of certain caves and memories. Call it a metaphor, if you will, but a metaphor that is grounded in reality and informed by tactile experience.
The friend in question is practically absent from the book, save for a few brief comments, but is an essential figure nonetheless. This caving kick is something that Hurd does on her own, even when she's being guided and spurred on by other people, dying friend included. It is Hurd's way to grieve, and to lose herself, and to become something--someone--else. She uses the butterfly metaphor perhaps one too many times, and any reference to Plato is probably an excess, but I forgive her because she made me care about the caves, even though I really don't care that much about them as physical objects. She invests them with meaning and history and purpose, much of it manufactured by her own loss, and keeps me hooked by giving small spaces, rock formations, and moonmilk deposits metaphorical and personal dimension.
Hurd cleverly weaves in questions of preservation, and ecology, and human impact. Many other things are destroyed by human touch, but in the caves, the oil from human skin can literally turn the rock black. Kartchner Caverns becomes one of Hurd's case studies in the different ways to deal with cave tourism; after keeping its existence and location secret for well over a decade, its discoverers decided to make it a public showcase cave--with one of the most elaborate preservation systems ever constructed. Still, it is affected. Janitors can keep the formations well-misted, wash down the footpaths every night, and even corral stray cells of human skin (who knew that dandruff could have such a destructive influence?), but they can't keep the caves perfectly pristine. Ironically, the experience that Hurd finds so necessary to her own personal transformation is, on a large scale, bound to destroy the very spaces that she loves. Like all of the rest of us, she has Midas' touch.
I haven't been to any caves since I was a sophomore or junior in college--Devil's Den and the Devil's Icebox have been closed to the public for years now, due to the spread of White-Nose Syndrome amongst the bats there. And I'll be honest, those caves are not particularly impressive. I prefer green growing things, and rain, and wind. The only other caves I have been to are those around Carlsbad--and that was a guided, walk-in tour. I have never found caving to be a particularly fun experience, mostly because I'm claustrophobic and have never had an experienced guide to any of the more interesting caves. I have not been lucky enough to befriend any friendly cavers. And yet--and yet--after reading Entering the Stone, I'm beginning to see why people fall in love with the world beneath my feet. I'm beginning to wish I'd been along when Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts stumbled across Kartchner Caves, near Cochise.
Hurd is what I would call a dedicated caver and what dedicated cavers would probably call an amateur. She recounts her beginnings here, in Entering the Stone, and I wouldn't really be able to tell you whether she continued to develop her love of the underground after the book was finished. Probably. Clearly, her decision to overcome her fears and claustrophobia was deeply rooted in her love for a dying friend--a friend who, apparently, was big into caves.
I think I connected with this book because of Hurd's seemingly effortless ability to explore the spiritual and emotional consequences of friendship, death, and healing through a physical exploration of certain caves and memories. Call it a metaphor, if you will, but a metaphor that is grounded in reality and informed by tactile experience.
The friend in question is practically absent from the book, save for a few brief comments, but is an essential figure nonetheless. This caving kick is something that Hurd does on her own, even when she's being guided and spurred on by other people, dying friend included. It is Hurd's way to grieve, and to lose herself, and to become something--someone--else. She uses the butterfly metaphor perhaps one too many times, and any reference to Plato is probably an excess, but I forgive her because she made me care about the caves, even though I really don't care that much about them as physical objects. She invests them with meaning and history and purpose, much of it manufactured by her own loss, and keeps me hooked by giving small spaces, rock formations, and moonmilk deposits metaphorical and personal dimension.
Hurd cleverly weaves in questions of preservation, and ecology, and human impact. Many other things are destroyed by human touch, but in the caves, the oil from human skin can literally turn the rock black. Kartchner Caverns becomes one of Hurd's case studies in the different ways to deal with cave tourism; after keeping its existence and location secret for well over a decade, its discoverers decided to make it a public showcase cave--with one of the most elaborate preservation systems ever constructed. Still, it is affected. Janitors can keep the formations well-misted, wash down the footpaths every night, and even corral stray cells of human skin (who knew that dandruff could have such a destructive influence?), but they can't keep the caves perfectly pristine. Ironically, the experience that Hurd finds so necessary to her own personal transformation is, on a large scale, bound to destroy the very spaces that she loves. Like all of the rest of us, she has Midas' touch.
I haven't been to any caves since I was a sophomore or junior in college--Devil's Den and the Devil's Icebox have been closed to the public for years now, due to the spread of White-Nose Syndrome amongst the bats there. And I'll be honest, those caves are not particularly impressive. I prefer green growing things, and rain, and wind. The only other caves I have been to are those around Carlsbad--and that was a guided, walk-in tour. I have never found caving to be a particularly fun experience, mostly because I'm claustrophobic and have never had an experienced guide to any of the more interesting caves. I have not been lucky enough to befriend any friendly cavers. And yet--and yet--after reading Entering the Stone, I'm beginning to see why people fall in love with the world beneath my feet. I'm beginning to wish I'd been along when Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts stumbled across Kartchner Caves, near Cochise.
March 2, 2016
While I read this book as research for writing about people who live in caves, and it did provide a lot of great snippets for what people in caves experience, I found the book most valuable for its writing about grief and absence. The chapter about standing in the twilight zone of a cave -- neither in the total dark nor in the light -- was especially powerful. Ultimately, it's an exploration of ourselves and who we are when we're in a squeeze, both a physical squeeze in a cave and the emotional squeeze of grief. Hurd writes sparingly yet movingly throughout the book about her friend Jeanne's long illness and then death; her words rang true to my experiences, as well. There's still lots of cool cave stuff, talk of moon milk, different kinds of caves all over the world, adaptations of cave-dwelling animals, the ammonia stink of bat guano. But also the experience and management of fear, of the awareness of tons of rock over your head, of the absence of regular markers of life. She quotes Ralph Waldo Emerson at one point: "Under every deep a lower deep opens." That's what reading this book was like, there was always a lower deep opening.
October 25, 2011
I enjoyed this. It is not just about caving, not merely "I went into some caves and this is what I saw/did there". There is much, much more to this as the author draws parallels between her caving experiences and numerous other things in her life. It's like reading about her spiritual response to caving. She is a talented writer who presents both beautiful prose and some chilling images. Her description of "squeezes" are simple, yet they affected me deeply - making me slightly uncomfortable, even driving me outside at one point just to put more space around me.
February 9, 2024
What a great read! I was mesmerized by how Hurd was able to slow down time and dig into a moment with such meditative, brilliant pondering.
I have a new interest in caves after reading Hurd's work, but I was equally interested in the structure of her essays and the balance between scene and associations. So many one-liners felt truly transcendent. This was a treat to read. So calming, so thoughtful, so evocative.
I have a new interest in caves after reading Hurd's work, but I was equally interested in the structure of her essays and the balance between scene and associations. So many one-liners felt truly transcendent. This was a treat to read. So calming, so thoughtful, so evocative.
August 10, 2013
Compelling stand-alone essays that paint the portrait of a writer who overcame a fear of caves to become a master spelunker and learn about herself and confronting more fears and insecurities. Beautiful turns of phrase, and seamless transitions from scene to reflection
February 6, 2015
I got claustrophobic just reading about the author's caving experiences. This memoir has more personal revelations than her book about bogs, and I do like that sort of thing. Must read for anyone who actually goes caving. And a good armchair experience for those of us who never would.
March 17, 2008
One of the few books I've ever given up on part way through. Well-written, but failed to capture my interest.
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November 5, 2016Entering the stone : on caves and feeling through the dark by Barbara Hurd (2003)
August 27, 2011
A beautifully written exploration of the hidden places in the earth, the hidden places in our hearts and the darkness that is required to find our own light again after loss.
February 3, 2012
Some really beautiful passages. I found that some chapters were much more poignant than others...but overall, a wonderful read.
February 16, 2019
barbara is a machine, a deeply feeling and loving machine
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews