Even if you're from Seattle, you may not know the history of the Elwha River dams on the Olympic Peninsula west of here. The dams destroyed one of Washington's best salmon runs, even as they provided power for the city of Port Angeles. Almost 100 years later, the two dams are slated to be demolished in hopes of saving the salmon.
Jonathan Evison's "West of Here" is framed by this history, with an odd twist. He moves the construction of the first dam back 23 years, to a time when Port Angeles was a tiny village and displaced Klallam Indians still camped on the beach.
When asked why he made such a major change in the history of fictional Port Bonita, which otherwise closely resembles Port Angeles, Evison said that this is not so much a historical novel as a novel about history -- which I take to mean the ways that we use history to make sense of our lives.
"West of Here" is constructed on parallel narratives set in 1890 and 2006. Port Bonita in 1890 seems to consist mostly of a brothel, a utopian colony and a lot of big dreams. History, from the point of view of the white settlers, has yet to happen. Opening up the wilderness will be the ignition point of that history, sparked by the first white cross-Olympic expedition. And damming the Elwha River will be history's motor.
The Port Bonita of 2006 is a declining fishing and lumber town. Wilderness no longer offers an opportunity: At most it is a place for recreation, escape and sometimes mystery. The descendents of the pioneers are stuck in the town, bemused by its history, uncomfortable with the wilderness and preoccupied with making a living and getting laid. The descendents of the Klallams maintain a split between those who are reeling from the historical impact of American society and those who are trying to keep their tribal ties strong.
All of the characters -- whether original inhabitants, founders, descendents or those whose families came later -- have their issues. Ethan Thornburgh, the moving force behind building the dam, seems both opportunistic and foolish as he organizes the project, only to have it co-opted by Eastern money interests. He is described early on as having "a rather limp mustache and a watch-sized blister on the ball of his right foot." The difference between the past and present is that the founders, with "history" ahead of them, were sometimes inspired, often absurdly, to try things that their descendents would never think of. "Neither the dank light ... nor the squelchy ground ... could temper Ethan's optimism." Jared, Ethan's great-grandson and manager of the fish processing plant, seems adrift in comparison.
The Klallams are a constant presence in the pioneer town and major characters in the present-day narrative, victims of a history they never wanted a part of. Alcohol is a major problem in 1890, leading to a split between the traditional tribalists and a more temperance-oriented group. A teenaged descendent, Curtis, takes acid and forms a supernatural connection across time with his shaman ancestor, with disastrous results for both of them. This subplot adds a lot of dramatic tension, but doesn't quite fit with the rest of the story, except to the extent that it gets Curtis more in touch with his tribal roots and eventually helps him move on with his life.
The need to move on with life -- to let past history and patterns go and find your own future -- is an underlying theme. In 1890, the settlers are there for the sake of their vision of the future; in 2006, the characters' lives seem stuck and meaningless until they find some future to believe in. For Curtis, it's taking an internship with the tribe; for Jared it's finally getting his wife pregnant. The descendents of the pioneers, as well as the native Klallams, find their redemption by escaping the weight of their history; only the relative newcomers are able to make a future in the town without referencing the past. For all of them, an important step is breaking out of isolation and making a human connection.
Evison has a way with words, seguing
from the high-flown to the playful in a couple of sentences: "Standing on the narrow ridge with all that he owned strapped to his back, looking ... toward the humbling spectacle of Mount Olympus ... Timmon was conflicted about his destiny for the first time since he marched out of High Tide Seafood. For starters, he was out of Snickers Bars."
This playful sense of style makes "West of Here" a good read and possibly a good introduction to Port Angeles history (as long as the reader keeps in mind that some of the significant details have been changed). The important thing, Evison seems to suggest, is that history need not limit your possibilities; there is a future for you, whatever course you decide to take.