The Mark of the Twain

I've lived in Missouri for twenty years, and I've never read a Mark Twain book. I realize this is near-blasphemous to say. I still don't know how I squeezed through the Missouri public school system without laying a finger on a well-worn copy of Huck Finn. To be clear, this is not a point of pride for me; I'm downright ashamed.

Instead of actually reading his books, I've spent most of my life wondering if Mark Twain would be a cool guy to hang out with. It's probably just a consequence of the state of photographic technology around the turn of the twentieth century, but to me, Mark Twain always looks like some forlorn steamboat captain who strokes his mustache and stares wistfully off into the distance. You know, the type of guy who stands by the chip bowl at a party and accidentally dips his hand in the salsa for too long because he's not thinking about the chips; no, he's thinking about something deeper than that. Now, this portrait of Twain doesn't exactly paint him as the party god he'd probably rather be remembered as, but this is exactly the kind of person I like to be around. Mark Twain and I likely would have gotten along just fine.

But I've recently been reconsidering my lack of actual Twain knowledge. Working at the University of Missouri Press tends to do that to people, I think. The Mark Twain & His Circle series published by the Press explores facets of the writer's life I didn't even know could be studied: his thoughts on living in the city, the use of gender play in his work, even hypothetical conversations between Twain and the hottest philosophers of the modern world. And surprisingly, looking at all these Twain books for twenty hours a week sparked my interest enough that I picked up a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer at the bookshop next to my laundromat the other day.

The Mark Twain & His Circle series is a nearly twenty-strong team of books on the beloved humorist and his work. Below are just a few offerings from the series, but Mark my words: you will find a Twain tome in here that's to your liking.

The Jester and the Sages approaches the life and work of Mark Twain by placing him in conversation with three eminent philosophers of his time—Friedrich Nietzsche, Sigmund Freud, and Karl Marx. Unprecedented in Twain scholarship, this interdisciplinary analysis supplements the traditional appreciation of the forces that drove Twain’s creativity and the dynamics of his humor by exploring how his reflections on religion, politics, philosophy, morality, and social issues overlap the philosophers’ developed thoughts on these subjects.

In Mark Twain: The Fate of Humor, James M. Cox pursues the development of Mark Twain’s humor through all the forms it took from “The Jumping Frog” to The Mysterious Stranger. Instead of seeking the seriousness behind the humor, Cox concentrates upon the humor itself as the transfiguring power that converted all the “serious” issues and emotions of Mark Twain’s life and time into narratives designed to evoke helpless laughter. In those sudden moments of pleasurable helplessness, we glimpse the great heart of a writer who imagined freedom in the slave society of his youth and discovered slavery in the free country of his old age.

Delving into the psychological aspects of metaphor to reveal Twain’s attitudes and thoughts, John Bird shows how using metaphor as a guide to Twain reveals much about his composition process. From “The Jumping Frog” to the late dream narratives, Mark Twain and Metaphor considers Twain’s metaphoric construction over his complete career and especially sheds new light on his central texts. He reconsiders “Old Times on the Mississippi” as the most purely metaphorical of Twain’s writings, goes on to look at how Twain used metaphor and talked about it in a variety of works and genres, and even argues that Clemens’s pseudonym is not so much an alter ego as a metaphorized self. In addition to dealing with issues currently central to Twain studies, such as race and gender, Bird also links metaphor to humor and dream theory to further illuminate topics central to Twain’s work.

Mark Twain in Paradise is the first comprehensive study of Samuel Clemens’s love affair with Bermuda, a vivid depiction of a celebrated author on recurring vacations. The book sheds light on both Clemens’s complex character and the topography and history of the islands. Donald Hoffmann has plumbed the voluminous Mark Twain scholarship and Bermudian archives to faithfully re-create turn-of-the-century Bermuda, supplying historical and biographical background to give his narrative texture and depth. He offers insight into Bermuda’s natural environment, traditional stone houses, and romantic past, and he presents dozens of illustrations, both vintage and new, showing that much of what Mark Twain described can still be seen today.

A century after Samuel Clemens’s death, Mark Twain is still thriving. His books are widely cherished, and fans flock to his homes in hopes of learning more about the first true American writer. Literary historic sites have long pinned their authority on the promise of exclusive insight into authors and texts, but Hilary Iris Lowe encourages readers to think critically about this celebration of Clemens. As tempting as it is to accept the authenticity of Clemens’s homes, Mark Twain’s Homes and Literary Tourism argues that house museums are not reliable critical texts but are instead carefully constructed spaces designed to satisfy visitors.

Searching for Jim is the untold story of Sam Clemens and the world of slavery that produced him. Despite Clemens’s remarks to the contrary in his autobiography, slavery was very much a part of his life. Terrell Dempsey has uncovered a wealth of newspaper accounts and archival material revealing that Clemens’s life, from the ages of twelve to seventeen, was intertwined with the lives of the slaves around him. Carefully reconstructed from letters, newspaper articles, sermons, speeches, books, and court records, Searching for Jim offers a new perspective on Clemens’s writings, especially regarding his use of race in the portrayal of individual characters, their attitudes, and worldviews.

The Mississippi: A Visual Biography by Quinta Scott
 

Photographer Quinta Scott has documented the progression of the Mississippi River from its source at Lake Itasca to the Gulf of Mexico, with hundreds of stopping points along the way. Scott explains how we have changed each site depicted, how we try to manage it, and the wildlife that occupies it. This majestic book is nothing less than a natural biography of the Mississippi, showing that, to understand the river and its floodplain today, we must understand the natural processes we have disrupted.

Questions and Answers about the Mississippi River and Hurricane Katrina.

Q: What is the connection between the geology and the history of New Orleans?

            To understand how Hurricane Katrina came to be so damaging to New Orleans you need to know a little bit of geology and a little bit of history.

Start with the geology: When the Muddy Mississippi floods, it washes over its banks, dropping its heaviest sands and silts closest to its channel. Flood after flood it builds a natural levee to an average height of fifteen feet above the adjacent floodplain. Relieved of the heavy sands, the floodwaters wash a carpet of fine silts across the low-lying floodplain and create a poorly drained, marshy backswamp in which cypress and tupelo flourish.

Now a little bit of history: In 1718 Sieur de Bienville founded New Orleans on the natural levee of the Mississippi north of its mouth. Over the objections of engineers he laid out the town on the left bank of the river at the point where the river swings nearest to Bayou St. John and Lake Pontchartrain to the north. Residents built their houses on high ground, on the natural levee of the river and near the head of Bayou St. John, which gave them a shortcut to the Gulf of Mexico through Lake Pontchartrain. A cypress forest fronted by a marsh, the backswamp, lay between the village and the lake and protected the village from storm surges in the lake. New Orleans held to the natural levee until the 1920s when developers cleared the cypress forest, drained the marsh, reclaimed land from the lake, and built a floodwall to keep the lake from flooding the neighborhoods that followed. The newly drained land compacted and sank below sea level.

Q: How does a river build a delta and what does that have to do with Katrina and New Orleans?

            When a fast moving stream meets a still body of water, it almost comes to a halt and deposits its load of sediment in the still body of water. In this way the Mississippi built its delta.

And: When the river becomes too long and its slope to the sea too flat, it finds a shorter, steeper route to the sea. The Mississippi, south of Old River at the head of the Atchafalaya, has done this at least five times in the last 7,000 years. First it deposited its sediment on the western edge of the delta, where Hurricane Rita touched in mid-September 2005. Then it shifted to the eastern side of the delta, southeast of New Orleans, where Hurricane Katrina tore up the landscape in August 2005. Then the river shifted directly south of New Orleans. Then, a little to the west of there, and finally, about 1300 years ago, it began to deposit the modern delta, laying it down between two older deltas and contributing sediment to them also.

More delta building: A distributary channel is one that breaks off from the trunk channel of a river and carries its sediment to the sea. Such a channel functions much like a trunk channel. Like the trunk channel, it builds a natural levee, adding to it with each flood. Like the trunk channel, it washes fine silts and clays over its natural levee into a poorly drained backswamp. And, it can split into a splay of branching channels: each one pushing into the Gulf, each one forming a natural levee, each one washing fine silts and clays into a poorly drained marsh. Together they form a delta lobe laced together by a network of natural levees.

Basins, which form between the branching channels, fill with marshes--saline marshes closest to the delta front, freshwater inland swamps farthest away from the delta front. In between, the marshes progress from freshwater to brackish to saline as the lobe pushes out into the Gulf of Mexico.

Q: What is subsidence and what does that have to do with Katrina and New Orleans?

Finally, there is a natural process called subsidence: As long as a distributary continues to deliver sediment to its delta front, and as long as flood deposits feed the basins between the separate channels, mud flats form in the basins and are quickly colonized by fresh water vegetation. Once the distributary ceases to deliver sediment to its delta front, once flood deposits no longer feed the basins between separate channels, and once the cycle of growth and decay in the marsh can no longer sustain the marsh, sea water seeps in and begins to eat away at the marsh, replacing it with shallow lakes or bays.

Q: How does subsidence increase the intensity of hurricanes?

There is a rule of thumb: Every mile or two of marshland reduces a storm surge from a hurricane by as much as a foot. At the beginning of the twenty-first century Louisiana was disappearing, subsiding, at the rate of one acre every twenty-four minutes. Project that rate over a year, and Louisiana was disappearing at the rate of 20,000-25,000 acres per year, which correlates to twenty-five to thirty-five square miles per year. In the eighty years before 2000 Louisiana lost 600,000 acres of vegetated wetlands. If this continued, the Louisiana shoreline would creep inland some thirty-three miles in some areas of the coast. Louisiana was disappearing and New Orleans was threatened by hurricanes, as coastal marshes receded.

Q: What changes to the Mississippi and its delta aggravated the threat to New Orleans by hurricanes?

            The process started with the first levee built at New Orleans in 1723. Every change we have made since to the natural functions of the river has decreased the amount of sediment delivered to the Gulf of Mexico for the construction of coastal marshes.

            James Eads’ jetties at the mouth of the river may have allowed the river to cut a thirty-foot navigation channel through the sandbar blocking the South Pass of the modern delta, but delivered sediment carried by the river to very deep water at the continental shelf, where it washed away, never to be used for marsh building. Closure of the old distributaries of the river may have prevented flooding in the bayou country of Louisiana, but cut the flow of Mississippi freshwater sediment to the coastal marshes. Revetments built of concrete mats may have stabilized the navigation channel, but reduced erosion of the banks, a source of sediment in the marshes. Artificial levees, extending clear to the Gulf of Mexico, may have made human habitation of the Mississippi delta south of Cape Girardeau possible, but prevented the Mississippi from refreshing Louisiana’s swamp and marshes with freshwater and sediment when it did flood. Channel dams may have made navigation on the Upper Mississippi economically feasible, but they retained its sediment north of Alton, Illinois. Dams on the Missouri, from which the Mississippi drew sixty percent of its sediment, did the same. In short at the beginning of the twenty-first century, the coastal marshes south of New Orleans received eighty percent less sediment than they had at the beginning of the twentieth and had been servely eroded away. And, they became dependent on rain for freshwater.

Q: How did oil drilling in the marshes cause their destruction?

The destruction of the marshes was further aggravated by the discovery of oil in the early twentieth century. Oil companies dredged long, straight navigation and exploration canals--an urban-like grid laid over the meandering bayous that laced the coastal marshes together. They dropped their dredge material along the edge of their canals, created spoil banks, levees that disrupted the natural flow of water across the marshes. They prevented water and sediment from refreshing the marshes; they created open lakes. Each vessel passing through the canals dragged a wake behind it, which spread out and eroded the banks, creating still more open water. Finally, the canals broke down the zone between fresh water and salt water, allowing salt to bleed into fresh water marshes, killing the native plants and trees, forcing wildlife to adapt or go elsewhere.

Q: What about the Mississippi River Gulf Outlet?

The Mississippi River Gulf Outlet barge canal may have shortened the distance between the Port of New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico by 40 miles, but its construction decimated the marshes southeast of New Orleans—marshes that would have absorbed the brunt of hurricanes like Katrina. On August 29 MR GO, as the locals call it, funneled Katrina’s storm surge into its shared channel with the Gulf Intracoastal Waterway, into the heart of New Orleans, where the surge breached the floodwalls of the Industrial Canal and flooded the lower ninth ward in the eastern part of the city.

Q: What are those other canals that caused the flooding of New Orleans?

            Because the city lies in a bowl surrounded by levees, every drop of rain that falls on New Orleans must be pumped out through drainage canals built at the beginning of the twentieth century. The design and/or the construction of the floodwalls along the 17^th street and London drainage canals were flawed. Rather than overtopping the floodwalls along the canals, Katrina’s storm surge undermined them. They collapsed, flooding the rest of the city, all but the French Quarter, which was built on the natural levee.

Q: What is the value of Louisiana’s Marshes and can they protect New Orleans and other coastal cities?

            Louisiana’s coastal wetlands buffer storms. One to two miles of marshland can reduce a storm surge by one foot. The marshes absorb nutrients, sediment, and contaminants. They serve as breeding, spawning, feeding, and nursery grounds for fish and shellfish, which migrate to their freshwater nurseries in the summer, and return to the Gulf when temperatures drop in the fall. Migratory birds rest on Louisiana’s barrier islands on their annual migration from Central and South America. Waterfowl, wading birds, and shorebirds colonize its freshwater marshes, attracted by their diverse menu of fish, shellfish, and vegetation. The marshes provide habitat for the endangered brown pelican and seventy pairs of bald eagles. Fur bearers—nutria, muskrat, mink, raccoon, otter, bobcat, beaver, coyote, and opossum—thrive in the marshlands. The American alligator—once endangered, now abundant—nests along the their banks.

            Louisiana’s commercial fishermen harvest 1.1 billion pounds of fish and shellfish, up to sixteen percent of the nation’s catch, valued at 1.5 billion dollars a year to Louisiana’s economy. Recreational anglers contribute another 235 million dollars. More than forty percent of the nation’s fur harvest comes from Louisiana. Alligator meat and hides bring in thirty million a year. Twenty to twenty-five percent of the nation’s oil and natural gas supply moves through Louisiana. Four hundred million tons of goods move through the Port of New Orleans.

Louisiana’s three million acres of coastal wetlands are more productive than many agricultural lands. If the loss of wetlands continues, commercial and recreational fishing will likely decline by thirty percent, putting fifty thousand jobs at risk. Migratory birds and fur-bearers that depend on the marshes will decline. The cost of treating drinking water will rise, along with the cost of salt and other minerals taken from the coast. Alligator meat will once again become a delicacy.