Damnation Spring

“Not a lot of guys are born to do something.”

Lark seems to read Rich’s mind as they discuss the 24-7 Ridge. Here, he reinforces the notion that Rich might be fated to take over the local landmark. The words are worth remembering: At the end of the novel, they return on the deed that Lark leaves in his carved box, showing he has paid off the loan on the land in full.

“They’d hardly spoken since the hospital at Easter. Miscarried, as if, five months pregnant, Colleen had made some stupid mistake, some error in posture, in loading or lifting. And now here they were, the first Sunday in August, Chub about to start kindergarten, an only child.”

This interior moment from Colleen neatly sums up the Gundersens’ familial situation in the story. Despite how much Colleen and Rich love each other, communication is breaking down between the two. And Colleen’s latest miscarriage weighs heavily on her, which will lead her to take decisions based on protecting—and growing—her family.

“Sanderson’s spray truck worked year-round. By tomorrow, alder and brambles, trash trees and weeds, everything the spray had touched that wasn’t a needle tree, a cash tree—a redwood or a fir—would curl and die…”

Readers’ introduction to herbicide spraying comes from Colleen’s perspective. She notices how effective it is at killing everything it touches. But at this point in the story, Colleen sees this as a positive: The spray keeps the roads clear. Only later will she—and the community—realize how deadly and disruptive the poison spray really is.

“They’d flown over the dark waves of big pumpkins in Damnation Grove—redwoods older than the United States of America, saplings when Christ was born. Then came the patchwork of clear-cuts, like mange on a dog, timber felled and bucked and debarked, trucked to the mill, sawed into lumber, sent off to the kilns to be dried.”

Rich recalls the only time he flew in a plane, in one of the company crop-dusters as it circled over the local area. This passage contextualizes the age of the redwoods and reminds readers who might not know just what incredible living things they are. Rich’s simile of the clear-cuts as “mange” is also startling. It sounds accurate, suggesting that Rich senses just how destructive logging is, even if it has been his family’s livelihood for generations.

“THIS FAMILY SUPPORTED BY TIMBER DOLLARS.”

This is one of the signs that greets visitors to the Gundersens’ home. It at once sets up the conflict that will arise between them and their better instincts, as well as showing the pride—or defensiveness—of the local community. The sign is aimed at outsiders: the only people who would need to be informed that the Gundersens earned their money from timber.

“‘I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t be drinking out of those creeks anymore,’ [Daniel] said finally. ‘It’s not like when we were kids. But people don’t worry about what they can’t see, right?’”

When Daniel and Colleen run into each other at the drugstore, it makes for an awkward reunion. This is true because the pair used to date and because Daniel comes bearing grim news. At this point, Colleen does not worry about what she cannot see, even blaming herself for her eight miscarriages.

“They were close enough to read the signs: A painted planet Earth: LOVE YOUR MOTHER. Trees: LUNGS OF THE PLANET. A lone redwood: I WAS HERE BEFORE COLUMBUS.”

On the way to the company fish fry, the Gundersens find the road blocked by protesters. Barring Daniel, they are the first protesters the reader gets to see up close. Davidson uses their signs to show readers something of the period setting—current day protesters might use a different point of reference than Columbus, for example—and provide a snapshot of their concerns. While on this occasion the Gundersens can still shrug off their presence, the protesters will begin to take on more importance as public opinion shifts against the logging. It is notable, too, that Chub asks what is going on, perhaps indicating the kind of consciousness of ecological issues a younger generation will develop.

“People think it’s just about trees, or it’s just about fish. By the time they realize it’s about them, it’s too late, you know?”

Feeling overwhelmed at the fish fry, Colleen recalls more of Daniel’s words. These seem very prescient. For now, some community members like Lark might consider a more sustainable approach to harvesting trees. Others recall that there used to be more salmon in the creeks. But it will take tragedy of several birth defects in quick succession before anyone really starts connecting the dots.

“[I]t was too easy to kill an idea by saying it out loud.”

This remark from Rich comes during a key scene. As the men work, Rich begins to see how his investment will quickly unravel if Sanderson fails to build the Damnation Grove roads or closes its sawmills. Rich is holding back information from the friends and colleagues he hopes will help him harvest his timber when the time comes, but his refusal to say anything also reflects his socialization in a community that values silence and discretion above openness. Unfortunately, that silence only allows poison to flow unchecked; both in the community’s waterways, and in Rich’s stilted relationship with his wife.

“They passed run-down houses along the coast, taken for the park. For now, they were rented, but once their twenty-five years were up, they’d be bulldozed to the ground, like Rich’s own.”

This passage raises the stakes of Rich’s gamble. Things have become precarious for him because, even after four generations have worked the local forests, he is still unable to own his own home. If he cannot harvest the ridge, there will be very little for him to secure the future of his young family. Davidson’s choice of name for her character—Rich—feels increasingly ironic.

“His whole body ached for her. But he wasn’t going to put her through that. Not again. Not ever.”

This is a reminder of Rich’s noble but misunderstood intentions toward Colleen. Rather than talk to her, he believes he understands what she wants: namely, to avoid the risk of another miscarriage. But Colleen is desperate to try again. Later, the two lie apart in bed because Colleen thinks Rich is no longer attracted to her, and Rich thinks she cannot possibly want sex with him. This misunderstanding is harming their marriage. Colleen will seek solace with Daniel.

“The world might end in fire, but here in Del Nort County, on the banks of the Klamath, it would end in water.”

Colleen is reflecting on the 1964 floods that inundated the area. But the specter of their return and the evocation of world-ending fires feels like a nod from Davidson to current climate issues, too. Unfortunately, Klamath is not the only place on the US coast, or around the world, which could face significant challenges as sea levels rise.

“Take it easy on your sister. Someday you two will be all you have.”

Colleen struggles to contain her jealousy at Alsea’s christening, as she pines for a sibling for Chub. Despite her many differences with her sister Enid, she tries to focus on their mother’s advice. The bond between Enid and Colleen will be sorely tested throughout the story, but Colleen always tries to remember her mother’s words and be patient with a sister she sees as reckless and outshining her at times.

“‘Tree-hugging welfare bums,’ Eugene said. ‘I’ll tell you what really tears them up. Bunch of rednecks making bank.’”

Eugene’s rage at the protesters is never far from the surface, but he does touch on a legitimate class issue here. Until Daniel recruits the bereaved parents to his cause, the activists against the logging all come from out of town and offer little in the way of solutions to the predicament the community finds itself in. Whatever the loggers might think of the redwoods, they are dependent on the money they earn cutting them down.

“Colleen tilted the baby, pure muscle memory, her attention fixed not on clearing his airways, but on the missing top of his skull, the small, misshapen mound of exposed brain.”

This is a crucial moment for Colleen, as the rumors spreading through the community become very real for her. This is the irrefutable proof that something is not right in the small world of Klamath. This realization will horrify Colleen and nudge her towards skepticism and, later, action against Sanderson.

“‘[Daniel] thinks it might have something to do with the stuff they’re spraying. It’s true, when they use the helicopters, especially in springtime, when the season starts up, it’s pretty bad. You taste it when you run the faucet.’ Robley shook his head. ‘I don’t know. He seemed like kind of a nutcase. Had some petition to stop Sanderson from spraying.’ Robley snorted. ‘As if anybody ever stopped Sanderson from doing exactly what the hell they want.’”

Robley, another bereaved parent, tells Colleen what he learned from Daniel’s visit to him and his wife Elyse. This is a key chapter where the community begins to make the link between spraying and harm to local people, plants, and animals. Robley’s remark also shows the fatalism activists like Daniel will face in convincing local people they deserve better than a contaminated environment dictated by the whims of big business.

“WE ARE THE LUNGS OF THE PLANET. SAVE DAMNATION GROVE.”

With work at Damnation Grove stalled and anxiety growing amongst the loggers, activists take out a back page advert in the local newspaper. It shows the extent to which public opinion is shifting around the community. But there might also be something else here in Davidson’s language: Nothing has changed. Trees remain a vital resource in the struggle against climate change. And although it might not be California redwoods facing the ax anymore, the slogan here remains resonant in the fight to preserve the Amazon and other vital carbon sinks around the world.

“These herbicides they’re spraying—not just Sanderson, the Forest Service, the county too—it’s the same ingredients as Agent Orange, and they’re contaminated with TCDD, dioxin. They’re toxic, not just for plants, for animals […] and for people.”

Daniel lays out to Rich in no uncertain terms just how dangerous the sprays being used on the local forests are. The comparison to Agent Orange is a powerful contextualizing detail that should shock readers familiar with the notorious chemical used in the Vietnam War. Given Daniel’s rapport with Colleen, however, and Rich’s stake in the harvest going forward, there is little Daniel can do to convince Rich of the dangers of the spraying.

“‘Guy cares more about fish than people.’ Carl shoveled crumbled meat into his mouth. ‘Kill a town to save some trees? Something wrong with that picture.’”

This is another reminder of what’s at stake for the community, as well as the scale of denial Daniel and other activists face. Here, Carl points out the trade-off between the environment and the work that sustains families like his. He does so despite his family having just suffered the devastating blow of a baby with a severe birth defect.

“Don’t think too long now, Rich […] Your timber isn’t worth beans without a right-of-way. Who knows? Company might get choosy about who uses those roads, once we’re done with them. Be a shame to harvest that 24-7 for nothing.”

Merle lays down an ultimatum to Rich, even if it is couched in his slimy, pally language. There is no doubt where the power lies in this relationship, and Rich finds himself caught over a barrel. He is an honest, hard-working man who wants to support his wife. But he also fears ruin if he defies the local tyrant. This is the crux of his dilemma, and the reader sees it play out later at the February hearing.

“Every year, the slides got worse. The more they logged, the less there was to hold the land in place.”

While the damage done by the herbicides is the focus of Damnation Spring, the overall damage to the landscape from unfettered logging raises its head here. In terms of the novel’s drama, this slipping, sliding landscape provides a symbol for upheaval and a foreshadowing of the conditions which will threaten Chub’s life and end Rich’s. Literally, it is also a reminder of how important humanity’s husbandry of the environment is in protecting vulnerable communities.

“‘I don’t got kids,’ Pete said. ‘But if I did, they wouldn’t be drinking out of no creek.’”

While loggers like Pete have so far kept themselves out of the growing power struggle between Sanderson and the community members rallying around Daniel, here even the skeptics are beginning to see the reality of the situation. Pete, a lot like Rich, is not going to make a huge fuss. But he surprises his friend here with an honest appraisal of the situation and a reminder to Rich that he might have to take closer care of his loved ones.

“This right here, this is opportunity. This is the American dream.”

An unnamed man heckles the speakers at the public forestry hearing. Davidson’s intention here seems ironic: This very much does seem like the American dream, just not in the way the speaker is thinking. After all, the loggers are crushing Indigenous culture and ravaging the land for its natural resources, all in the pursuit of a profit, no matter the cost to workers or the natural environment. The entitlement in the speaker’s assertion is of a piece with this colonial thinking: the genocide and conquest upon which America and its myths of meritocracy are built.