Habitat for Calamity: The Heart is a Lonely Punter

Where the Crawdads Sing needs no introduction.  Everyone has been talking about this debut novel by enigmatic naturalist Delia Owens; even the cover proclaims it to be "the worldwide sensation."  So why, then, did I resist reading it, relenting only when my mother leant me her copy?  I'd see it in Target on my lunch break, sometimes even going so far as to turn it over, reading and rereading the back cover.  The reader in me didn't want to miss out, but the cynic in me dismissed it as a cross between Dateline and Swamp People.

So, when I opened it last week, my expectations were low.  But as soon as I met Kya Clark, the chip on my shoulder evaporated.  After years of abuse at the hands of Kya's father, Kya's mother leaves their North Carolina swamp shack and never comes back.  Unable to bear Pa's drunken violence, Kya's four brothers and sisters escape one by one, leaving her alone with Pa at the age of six.  But even Pa is away more often than not, leaving Kya to fend for herself.  Which, it turns out, she's astonishingly good at.  By watching the gulls, she learns to dig for mussels, then boats to the gas station to sell them so she can buy grits.  She has one pair of overalls and no shoes, but when she steps on an old nail, tetanus eludes her.  She avoids school until she's seven, when the authorities force her to go.  On her first day, she sits in the cafeteria with her chicken pot pie, the most delicious and nourishing food she's ever eaten.  By anyone's standards, she should finally feel safe.  But the other kids are unbearably cruel, laughing at her because she can't spell "dog" and calling her "Marsh Girl."  So she stuffs the food into her milk carton and returns to the only sanctuary she's ever known, the birds and the trees and the water.  The truant officer hunts her for weeks, but she always outsmarts him.  She never sets foot in school again.  Now, I grew up with two doting parents and am about as outdoorsy as an armchair.  Kya and I should have nothing in common.  Yet when I read this, I felt a near visceral pull, everything in me humming, I get it.  Because I too was a loner who didn't fit in and would've preferred home to school.

Kya's pa finally leaves when she's ten.  As the years pass, Kya becomes more entrenched in the marsh, collecting seashells and other specimens and cataloging each with an exquisite painting.  Jumpin', the Black owner of the gas station, and his wife Mabel give her clothes and food when they can.  When Kya's fourteen, a local boy teaches her how to read, and her capacity for creativity grows.  But for the most part, she remains on her own with nature.  Stirring and strange, Kya's is a story of the world's natural wonders -- but of its horrors, too. 

If you've read it or seen the movie, then you know that there's a murder.  And that, despite her extreme isolation, Kya becomes involved with two men.  The way Owens weaves these with Kya's kinship with nature took my breath away.  

And . . . that's where I'll stop.  So that if you want to read Where the Crawdads Sing, then you can be breathless too.