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Enchantment and Exploitation: The Life and Hard Times of a New Mexico Mountain Range
This unusual book is a complete account of the closely linked natural and human history of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of northern New Mexico, a region unique in its rich combination of ecological and cultural diversity.
416 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1985
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180 people want to read
About the author
William deBuys
23 books31 followersWilliam deBuys is the author of seven books, including River of Traps: A New Mexico Mountain Life, a New York Times Notable Book of the Year and a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in general non-fiction in 1991; Enchantment and Exploitation: The Life and Hard Times of a New Mexico Mountain Range; The Walk (an excerpt of which won a Pushcart Prize in 2008), and Salt Dreams: Land and Water in Low-Down California. An active conservationist, deBuys has helped protect more than 150,000 acres in New Mexico, Arizona, and North Carolina. He lives and writes on a small farm in northern New Mexico.
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January 21, 2022
I was assigned this book in college, about a decade after it was first published. With a renewed interest in the history of the region, last year I decided to read the 2015 reprint with a new final chapter. It's taken me quite a while to finish because I always sandwiched it in between other books—and also because it's pretty depressing.
The project is an examination of the natural and unnatural history of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. I enjoyed the first half of the book most, the deep geological and anthropological history of the area. I grew up in the southern Rockies. The Sangre de Cristos, which I looked at every day as a child (Baldy always looked like a monster's face to little me) are very familiar, but my understanding of the area’s history has been patchy. My dad loved the backcountry and took my brother and I backpacking as far as he could push us, which was surprisingly far. We'd drive through Truchas and Trampas on our way to a trek and he'd cluck his tongue and say, "The poorest places in the world are often the most beautiful." The poverty of those little mountain villages was shocking to me as a kid. It was like a different world. But he was right that they were in the most beautiful place. There's nothing like Truchas and Trampas and the other little villages on the High Road to Taos.
Another relevant memory: we constantly crossed paths, even in the deepest woods, with grazing cows. My dad liked to pick wild strawberries and we'd use stream water as our drinking water, but he was paranoid about picking up disease from the roaming cattle, so everything had to be boiled a lot, or he’d drop in the water some sort of bacteria-killing tablet that’s probably illegal now. I asked who owned those cattle and why they were allowed to just roam in the National Forests like that, and my dad would sigh. It turns out that question is pretty central to DeBuy's book.
The original inhabitants of the land rarely had the population density to do much environmental damage, with some exceptions, such as Bandelier and Chaco Canyon. But the Spanish/Mexican settlers did achieve environment-impacting density, and of course it was bad. As soon as there are enough settled people in a place, the place gets ripped to shreds—this is what people seem to do. The sheep farming was bad enough, but then the cows came along. Subsistence farming in northern NM was always a hardscrabble existence, but sheep were barely enough to keep a family going. Cows were more efficient. And far worse for the land.
Furthermore, the mountains belonged to no one and everyone, in the communal spirit of early Hispanic settlers. The southern Sangre de Cristos were one big commons that animals were allowed to roam at will, eating whatever they found. (Clearly, this habit, though now illegal in places, has still persisted.) When the land began to push back and couldn't support animals and people anymore, the settlers refused to see their part in things. I just read a book on the Dust Bowl and it's just the same story over and over. People destroy their habitat, but blame the barren earth that results on "a spot of bad weather" or "random drought" or even curses and angry gods. Anything but their own farming practices.
That's one major thread of the book. But DeBuys has a deep sympathy for the community spirit and simple, honest way of life embodied by the early Hispanic settlers. (Who would continue to call themselves "Spanish" to avoid any taint of intermixing with the indigenous Americans, even though they definitely did that: gotta maintain the hierarchy. DeBuys talks about this, too.) They were harder on the land than the indigenous people, but with their tight-knit families and resourcefulness, they had a lot going for them. A more destructive wave was to come: Americans. First the trappers, who killed every furry thing in sight, then lawyers, who tricked Hispanic settlers out of their Spanish land grants. And the big-business ranchers, who believed not in communal land but in my-land-vs-your-land, demarcated with barbed wire.
Less awful Americans arrived, too: conservationist types who said that common farming practices, especially letting cows wander all over everything, were causing terrible environmental destruction. These newcomers were of course correct, but no more welcome than the lawyers. Nobody wants to be told that the reason you and your cows and sheep are starving is because you and your abuelo and your bisabuelo have all been farming wrong. (The same shoot-the-messenger thing happened during the Dust Bowl.) But these conservationists in turn caused their own problems. Not all their ideas were correct. The ones in the Forest Service suppressed fire for a century, laying the groundwork for waves of massive, sterilizing wildfires that have been sweeping over the area with greater frequency and intensity every few years. These aren't the natural restorative grass fires that used to clear out conifers and make room for nourishing meadows, these are just heat bombs that kill everything.
As the book continues, it gets grimmer and more upsetting because it's more proximate. It's one thing to read about folly of 200 years ago, another to read about folly that drove your own parents out of their home only a few years ago, and burned down dozens of other homes, and destroyed a whole mountainside you called home. I never dreamed that the thick, dark forests I grew up with during the unusual wet spell of the 70s and 80s would, because the thickness and darkness weren’t natural, be completely obliterated by the turn of our century. That there would be nothing but a charred, semi-barren hills for a long time. In large swaths, not even aspens have found a foothold. Gambel oak has finally taken over, so at least sometimes there is green, and sometimes there is gold, but we are probably never going to get the Ponderosa pines back.
I suppose the best I can say about how the book wraps up is that at least DeBuys is honest enough not to even try to scrounge up a false note of hope. It is an interesting foray through history initially, but (at least to me) very bleak in the end.
The project is an examination of the natural and unnatural history of the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. I enjoyed the first half of the book most, the deep geological and anthropological history of the area. I grew up in the southern Rockies. The Sangre de Cristos, which I looked at every day as a child (Baldy always looked like a monster's face to little me) are very familiar, but my understanding of the area’s history has been patchy. My dad loved the backcountry and took my brother and I backpacking as far as he could push us, which was surprisingly far. We'd drive through Truchas and Trampas on our way to a trek and he'd cluck his tongue and say, "The poorest places in the world are often the most beautiful." The poverty of those little mountain villages was shocking to me as a kid. It was like a different world. But he was right that they were in the most beautiful place. There's nothing like Truchas and Trampas and the other little villages on the High Road to Taos.
Another relevant memory: we constantly crossed paths, even in the deepest woods, with grazing cows. My dad liked to pick wild strawberries and we'd use stream water as our drinking water, but he was paranoid about picking up disease from the roaming cattle, so everything had to be boiled a lot, or he’d drop in the water some sort of bacteria-killing tablet that’s probably illegal now. I asked who owned those cattle and why they were allowed to just roam in the National Forests like that, and my dad would sigh. It turns out that question is pretty central to DeBuy's book.
The original inhabitants of the land rarely had the population density to do much environmental damage, with some exceptions, such as Bandelier and Chaco Canyon. But the Spanish/Mexican settlers did achieve environment-impacting density, and of course it was bad. As soon as there are enough settled people in a place, the place gets ripped to shreds—this is what people seem to do. The sheep farming was bad enough, but then the cows came along. Subsistence farming in northern NM was always a hardscrabble existence, but sheep were barely enough to keep a family going. Cows were more efficient. And far worse for the land.
Furthermore, the mountains belonged to no one and everyone, in the communal spirit of early Hispanic settlers. The southern Sangre de Cristos were one big commons that animals were allowed to roam at will, eating whatever they found. (Clearly, this habit, though now illegal in places, has still persisted.) When the land began to push back and couldn't support animals and people anymore, the settlers refused to see their part in things. I just read a book on the Dust Bowl and it's just the same story over and over. People destroy their habitat, but blame the barren earth that results on "a spot of bad weather" or "random drought" or even curses and angry gods. Anything but their own farming practices.
That's one major thread of the book. But DeBuys has a deep sympathy for the community spirit and simple, honest way of life embodied by the early Hispanic settlers. (Who would continue to call themselves "Spanish" to avoid any taint of intermixing with the indigenous Americans, even though they definitely did that: gotta maintain the hierarchy. DeBuys talks about this, too.) They were harder on the land than the indigenous people, but with their tight-knit families and resourcefulness, they had a lot going for them. A more destructive wave was to come: Americans. First the trappers, who killed every furry thing in sight, then lawyers, who tricked Hispanic settlers out of their Spanish land grants. And the big-business ranchers, who believed not in communal land but in my-land-vs-your-land, demarcated with barbed wire.
Less awful Americans arrived, too: conservationist types who said that common farming practices, especially letting cows wander all over everything, were causing terrible environmental destruction. These newcomers were of course correct, but no more welcome than the lawyers. Nobody wants to be told that the reason you and your cows and sheep are starving is because you and your abuelo and your bisabuelo have all been farming wrong. (The same shoot-the-messenger thing happened during the Dust Bowl.) But these conservationists in turn caused their own problems. Not all their ideas were correct. The ones in the Forest Service suppressed fire for a century, laying the groundwork for waves of massive, sterilizing wildfires that have been sweeping over the area with greater frequency and intensity every few years. These aren't the natural restorative grass fires that used to clear out conifers and make room for nourishing meadows, these are just heat bombs that kill everything.
As the book continues, it gets grimmer and more upsetting because it's more proximate. It's one thing to read about folly of 200 years ago, another to read about folly that drove your own parents out of their home only a few years ago, and burned down dozens of other homes, and destroyed a whole mountainside you called home. I never dreamed that the thick, dark forests I grew up with during the unusual wet spell of the 70s and 80s would, because the thickness and darkness weren’t natural, be completely obliterated by the turn of our century. That there would be nothing but a charred, semi-barren hills for a long time. In large swaths, not even aspens have found a foothold. Gambel oak has finally taken over, so at least sometimes there is green, and sometimes there is gold, but we are probably never going to get the Ponderosa pines back.
I suppose the best I can say about how the book wraps up is that at least DeBuys is honest enough not to even try to scrounge up a false note of hope. It is an interesting foray through history initially, but (at least to me) very bleak in the end.
August 21, 2018
For years, I’ve taken my children from Santa Fe to Taos on the “high road” (highway 76), stopping off at the “Rancho de Chimayo” for traditional New Mexican food, including those light “sopapillas” the kids would fill with honey, and from there we’d visit the Santuario de Chimayo, one of New Mexico’s most beautiful adobe chapels It is said to be built on a site where the earth itself has the power to heal ailments and infirmities of all kinds, and the “promesas,” or promises, are tacked to the wall all around the altar. These ancient beliefs are still held by many of the locals to this day.
Towards the end of the road, we’d always stop by the magnificent church built in 1766 by pioneers in Trampas, and from there wind down the road and eventually reach El Rancho de Taos with its very special “Pueblo” where local Indian families still dwell.
I decided to learn more about the incredible natural and cultural diversity in the area where some beliefs and enclaves have lasted for centuries. Although much of the population in the area speak Spanish, their culture precedes much of the “Hispanic” community, reaching back to, and adhering to, beliefs from the Colonial period when the area was part of Mexico. The drama of the modern day diversity and the social stresses caused by economic development were well portrayed in John Nichols’ “Milagro Beanfield War,” in which he depicts “just another paranoid, money-grubbin’ boardwalk—a mountain Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Tahoe, in miniature.”
I was not disappointed by William deBuy’s Enchantment and Exploitation, first published in 1985 and since then has become a New Mexico classic. It offers a complete account of the relationship between society and environment in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of northern New Mexico, a region unique in its rich combination of ecological and cultural diversity.
The book is supplemented by over 65 photos and illustrations, eight maps and three tables. And at the end an extensive list of notes, a bibliography, and an index are available as back-up for those who want to dig deeper into the history of the region. One of the reasons the author wrote the book was to show that “centuries of human experience afford abundant examples of small miscalculations leading to large-scale misfortune”. One hundred years ago, for instance, a great many relatively small decisions made by stockmen to increase the size of their herds resulted in a debacle of overgrazing that seriously undermined the pastoral economy of the mountain villages. He goes on to say, “The trick of living in the mountains begins with understanding the power of the landscape and the limits it imposes…”
The book explains the source of the name, “Sangre de Cristo,” the mountains that cover the north central part of the state into Colorado, and were known as the “Sierra Madre” mountains by the Spanish colonists. The name came from the passionately religious “Penitente Brotherhood” during the middle and late 1800s. This sect’s rites featured bloody self-torture and flagellation, and became famous for its yearly re-enactments of the original shedding of the Sangre de Cristo.
According to the author, the penitents were a response to the convergence of three kinds of severe social change on the Hispanic community:
• The ecclesiastic abandonment that deprived the villagers of tradition and ritual, as well as their main source of guidance and leadership.
• The stress of rapid geographic expansion as new communities formed almost overnight, while older communities suffered from the departure of pioneers and the breakup of families.
• The psychic burden of a perception of lost status and cultural inferiority, which the Hispanos acquired as a result of the Anglo conquest.
Although dominated by males, the Brotherhood included women as, “auxiliadores,” who helped with the preparation for wakes and religious ceremonies, but were never initiated as full-fledged members. Yet women probably practiced various physical penances including a wearing a “bracelet” of cactus under their clothing or growing over rough ground to the “Calvario,” or Calvary, where the Brothers enacted their ritual crucifixions.
Land tenure would play a crucial role in the cultural and economic development of north central New Mexico. No one had to tell the villagers that the grazing issues and the land grant issue were essentially the same thing. They knew that their ancestors had grazed their herds and flocks without restriction, and most of them believed that if they could get their land back from the Forest Service, their worst problems would be solved. These concerns would eventually lead to the “Alianza movement,” which generated a good deal of violence and commotion in the late 1960s.
Taking the land to establish a national park can create, or destroy, nearly everything that matters like jobs, roads, livestock, and even landscape. According to the author, “No other National Forests in the United States are plagued with as unhappy a historic legacy as those of northern New Mexico, and none exist in as complex a cultural environment. None can claim, as these can, that because of traditions that are centuries old, the cutting of firewood in piñon and juniper woodlands generates more public controversy than the management of commercial saw timber.
The many graphics throughout the book add to a better appreciation of the cultural diversity and pressures in the area, such as a painting by Ernest Blumenschien, one of the founders of the Taos art community in 1936, “Jury for Trial of a Sheepherder for Murder” suggested the uneasiness felt by many villagers in dealing with Anglo law and society.
The cultural diversity was further enhanced in the late 1960s, as Taos and the surrounding mountains were a “mecca of the countercultural world. Hippies from every corner of the country crowded to the Sangres seeking open space, and freedom from a society they considered corrupt and repressive. One result was that it brought Anglos permanently into the communities where none had lived before. “Today at least one or two Anglo families live in virtually every mountain village, and many often possess the same qualities of hardiness, self-reliance, and inventiveness that characterized the homesteaders of a hundred years ago.”
As of 2015, a revised and expanded edition was produced with a last chapter assessing the quality of the journey that New Mexican society has traveled in that time--and continues to travel. In the new final chapter, deBuys examines ongoing transformations in the mountains' natural systems--including, most notably, developments related to wildfires--with significant implications for both the land and the people who depend on it. As the climate absorbs the effects of an industrial society, deBuys argues, we can no longer expect the environmental future to be a reiteration of the environmental past.
The author is more than qualified to produce this fascinating history of north central New Mexico. He holds a Ph.D in American Studies from the University of Texas at Austin and has written a number of other books published by the University of New Mexico Press. He also knows the mountains and their residents “as intimately as he knows his primary and secondary sources.”
Towards the end of the road, we’d always stop by the magnificent church built in 1766 by pioneers in Trampas, and from there wind down the road and eventually reach El Rancho de Taos with its very special “Pueblo” where local Indian families still dwell.
I decided to learn more about the incredible natural and cultural diversity in the area where some beliefs and enclaves have lasted for centuries. Although much of the population in the area speak Spanish, their culture precedes much of the “Hispanic” community, reaching back to, and adhering to, beliefs from the Colonial period when the area was part of Mexico. The drama of the modern day diversity and the social stresses caused by economic development were well portrayed in John Nichols’ “Milagro Beanfield War,” in which he depicts “just another paranoid, money-grubbin’ boardwalk—a mountain Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Tahoe, in miniature.”
I was not disappointed by William deBuy’s Enchantment and Exploitation, first published in 1985 and since then has become a New Mexico classic. It offers a complete account of the relationship between society and environment in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of northern New Mexico, a region unique in its rich combination of ecological and cultural diversity.
The book is supplemented by over 65 photos and illustrations, eight maps and three tables. And at the end an extensive list of notes, a bibliography, and an index are available as back-up for those who want to dig deeper into the history of the region. One of the reasons the author wrote the book was to show that “centuries of human experience afford abundant examples of small miscalculations leading to large-scale misfortune”. One hundred years ago, for instance, a great many relatively small decisions made by stockmen to increase the size of their herds resulted in a debacle of overgrazing that seriously undermined the pastoral economy of the mountain villages. He goes on to say, “The trick of living in the mountains begins with understanding the power of the landscape and the limits it imposes…”
The book explains the source of the name, “Sangre de Cristo,” the mountains that cover the north central part of the state into Colorado, and were known as the “Sierra Madre” mountains by the Spanish colonists. The name came from the passionately religious “Penitente Brotherhood” during the middle and late 1800s. This sect’s rites featured bloody self-torture and flagellation, and became famous for its yearly re-enactments of the original shedding of the Sangre de Cristo.
According to the author, the penitents were a response to the convergence of three kinds of severe social change on the Hispanic community:
• The ecclesiastic abandonment that deprived the villagers of tradition and ritual, as well as their main source of guidance and leadership.
• The stress of rapid geographic expansion as new communities formed almost overnight, while older communities suffered from the departure of pioneers and the breakup of families.
• The psychic burden of a perception of lost status and cultural inferiority, which the Hispanos acquired as a result of the Anglo conquest.
Although dominated by males, the Brotherhood included women as, “auxiliadores,” who helped with the preparation for wakes and religious ceremonies, but were never initiated as full-fledged members. Yet women probably practiced various physical penances including a wearing a “bracelet” of cactus under their clothing or growing over rough ground to the “Calvario,” or Calvary, where the Brothers enacted their ritual crucifixions.
Land tenure would play a crucial role in the cultural and economic development of north central New Mexico. No one had to tell the villagers that the grazing issues and the land grant issue were essentially the same thing. They knew that their ancestors had grazed their herds and flocks without restriction, and most of them believed that if they could get their land back from the Forest Service, their worst problems would be solved. These concerns would eventually lead to the “Alianza movement,” which generated a good deal of violence and commotion in the late 1960s.
Taking the land to establish a national park can create, or destroy, nearly everything that matters like jobs, roads, livestock, and even landscape. According to the author, “No other National Forests in the United States are plagued with as unhappy a historic legacy as those of northern New Mexico, and none exist in as complex a cultural environment. None can claim, as these can, that because of traditions that are centuries old, the cutting of firewood in piñon and juniper woodlands generates more public controversy than the management of commercial saw timber.
The many graphics throughout the book add to a better appreciation of the cultural diversity and pressures in the area, such as a painting by Ernest Blumenschien, one of the founders of the Taos art community in 1936, “Jury for Trial of a Sheepherder for Murder” suggested the uneasiness felt by many villagers in dealing with Anglo law and society.
The cultural diversity was further enhanced in the late 1960s, as Taos and the surrounding mountains were a “mecca of the countercultural world. Hippies from every corner of the country crowded to the Sangres seeking open space, and freedom from a society they considered corrupt and repressive. One result was that it brought Anglos permanently into the communities where none had lived before. “Today at least one or two Anglo families live in virtually every mountain village, and many often possess the same qualities of hardiness, self-reliance, and inventiveness that characterized the homesteaders of a hundred years ago.”
As of 2015, a revised and expanded edition was produced with a last chapter assessing the quality of the journey that New Mexican society has traveled in that time--and continues to travel. In the new final chapter, deBuys examines ongoing transformations in the mountains' natural systems--including, most notably, developments related to wildfires--with significant implications for both the land and the people who depend on it. As the climate absorbs the effects of an industrial society, deBuys argues, we can no longer expect the environmental future to be a reiteration of the environmental past.
The author is more than qualified to produce this fascinating history of north central New Mexico. He holds a Ph.D in American Studies from the University of Texas at Austin and has written a number of other books published by the University of New Mexico Press. He also knows the mountains and their residents “as intimately as he knows his primary and secondary sources.”
December 14, 2024
Very very good. While the book is specific in its topic (Northern New Mexicos rich environmental and anthropological history) it reaches far in its broader claim for environmental ethic and the implications of our changing relationship with ourselves and the environment as a whole. Heavily recommend this book
November 19, 2024
Ecological, social, cultural, economic history told from the perspective mostly of the Sangre de cristo mountains in NM. One of the best history books I’ve ever read, definitely read this if you’re interested in New Mexico at all!
January 10, 2013
It was fascinating to follow DeBuys excellent retelling of the history of the Sangre de Cristos mountains of northern NM and its unique and complex geography. The descriptions of the abuse of the land by Hispanos and Anglos was shocking. The long road to try and redress the situation offers some hope but without the will and understanding of the people who live there, it will continue to be an uphill battle. Nature is extremely resilient, but the loss of topsoil due to too many grazing animals has transformed the landscape in stark and subtle ways. It is still an area of great beauty however; may the education and awareness this book provides lead to more responsible land stewardship not only in the Sangre de Cristos but in other areas of the public domain with a culture of exploitation.
June 25, 2023
Excellent insightful account of the historic times of New Mexico, despite the authors pervasive anti Anglo-American bias as evidenced when he states that "The influence of Anglo-American society has destroyed so much...."
The author states that the insurrectionists of the Taos Revolt of 1847 were "tried as murderers and traitors, not as Mexican patriots", ignoring the pledge of citizenship they took in order to avoid bloodshed when Gen. Stephen Watts Kearny raised the American flag in Santa Fe. He also fails to mention the agitator padre Jose Antonio Martinez, who spent most of his time preaching revolution instead of saving souls and was so disruptive the Church eventually removed him.
The erosion and ruin of the Puerco Valley was not necessary. The reason irrigation south of Cuba has been impossible since 1951 is that when the earthen dam broke the poverty of the locals made it impossible for them to repair said dam and the government refised to pony up to repair the dam thus allowing Nature to desolate the region.
Aside from the politics and bias, everything the author states comes close to the real issue but he fails to outright and state it: New Mexico, with one of the sparsest population densities in the US, is not the victim of exploitation, it is the victim of overpopulation. Two examples: the Carson National Forest can sustain firewood cutting of pinyon/juniper of up to 250 cords per year. The actual permits issued in one year were 1,700 while the real amount of wood harvested for firewood was well over that quantity due to cutting without permits. The Forest Service records show that for one year permits were issued for 21,600 cattle and 32,200 sheep grazing when the forest could only sustain 14,400 and 25,200.
The author states that the insurrectionists of the Taos Revolt of 1847 were "tried as murderers and traitors, not as Mexican patriots", ignoring the pledge of citizenship they took in order to avoid bloodshed when Gen. Stephen Watts Kearny raised the American flag in Santa Fe. He also fails to mention the agitator padre Jose Antonio Martinez, who spent most of his time preaching revolution instead of saving souls and was so disruptive the Church eventually removed him.
The erosion and ruin of the Puerco Valley was not necessary. The reason irrigation south of Cuba has been impossible since 1951 is that when the earthen dam broke the poverty of the locals made it impossible for them to repair said dam and the government refised to pony up to repair the dam thus allowing Nature to desolate the region.
Aside from the politics and bias, everything the author states comes close to the real issue but he fails to outright and state it: New Mexico, with one of the sparsest population densities in the US, is not the victim of exploitation, it is the victim of overpopulation. Two examples: the Carson National Forest can sustain firewood cutting of pinyon/juniper of up to 250 cords per year. The actual permits issued in one year were 1,700 while the real amount of wood harvested for firewood was well over that quantity due to cutting without permits. The Forest Service records show that for one year permits were issued for 21,600 cattle and 32,200 sheep grazing when the forest could only sustain 14,400 and 25,200.
April 25, 2020
This enjoyable volume offers a stream of insights into how northern New Mexico has become what it presently is, with an eye to highlight several key social, cultural, and ecological changes that have altered the region over the last three centuries. At heart in the story about the communities that have settled in this area is the centrality of the highlands that have supported their advent, sustenance, cultural development, and survival. Full of interesting stories, deBuys does well to explain how the treatment of mountain resources either gives the locals a promising presence for years ahead, or will inevitably rob them not only of their future, but also their rich cultural identities and histories.
October 10, 2024
Excellent ecological and historical writing. The first few chapters offer a brief but illuminating history of Northern New Mexico. Where it really shines is in telling the story of the ecological impact on the mountains by various groups of humans. He manages to blend intense and genuine sympathy for the economic and cultural struggles of the villagers while at the same time pointing out cold, hard ecological realities.
Everyone in book club read at least part of it and praised its easy readability. It reminded me of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring in its ease of reading and intense impact on the reader. Definitely a classic.
Everyone in book club read at least part of it and praised its easy readability. It reminded me of Rachel Carson's Silent Spring in its ease of reading and intense impact on the reader. Definitely a classic.
February 27, 2021
In the end, it became a bit of a slog, not because the writing was bad, but because it was so damn depressing. Very little enchantment, mostly exploitation. The land wrested from the indigenous peoples, the neglect and exploitation of the Spanish settlers, how they lost their land grants to speculators, the over grazing and clear cutting, and rounding it all off with the expected changes due to climate change.
December 29, 2022
4.5 A great cultural and ecological history of Northern NM, much stronger on the ecological side. Reading this (not just the second half of the book's ecological history, but the first half's cultural history) in light of this year's massive wildfires was hugely informative and sobering. The devastation of the fires and climate change are really put into perspective when you understand the multi layered history of human settlement and use of the mountains.
June 10, 2021
Part 1 was a nice, albeit cursory, history of the Sangres. Part 2 is where things get really good. deBuys does a wonderful job threading the needle between environmental history and determinism, political ecology and environmentalism. Always insightful and often enraging, I consider this a must read to understand the politics, people, and place of Northern New Mexico.
April 8, 2024
Even having lived in NM my whole life, much of this history was completely unknown to me. Incredible resource for learning about the complex factors that give NM its singularly unique cultural composition, and the peoples' relationship with various government agencies. A great read for any NM citizen, but should be required for students of forestry especially in my opinion.
April 5, 2022
Excellent bio regional history of northern New Mexico.
December 5, 2024
Interesting book that delved deeply into the people and place of the northern New Mexico mountains and towns, highlighting the abundant beauty of the place and the multiple layers of exploitation.
December 30, 2024
It's really good for a deep diver, but if you're getting started, I think deBuys "River of Traps" or Waters "To Possess the Land" will serve you better.
January 15, 2025
A really interesting and well written history of Northern New Mexico. I enjoyed how the author intertwined stories of individuals with the overall history of the area. This book was recommended to me by both a Hispanic New Mexican and an Anglo New Mexican, which I found suprising since these two groups generally have different perspectives of the history of the area, but the author really does seem to provide information from both perspectives.
June 19, 2009
Who knew that a survey of a state's history could be so compelling! Fascinating stuff, but then New Mexico is a very special place.
April 1, 2009
This is one of the best books on northern New Mexico!
November 11, 2010
This is an amazing book. If you want to know what is going on in New Mexico this is a great place to start. Also check out his book "The Walk".
January 10, 2018
I was looking for a good history of northern New Mexico. This was exactly that.
Displaying 1 - 20 of 20 reviews