The Edge of Maine
Washington, D.C: National Geographic Society, 2005
Wolff is a seasoned author of biographies, including a fascinating one of his con artist dad titled The Duke of Deception, and fiction. This travelogue comes in a series from the National Geographic Society, featuring some of the best contemporary writers including Francine Prose, Louise Erdrich, John Edgar Wideman, David Mamet and Jamaica Kincaid. Wolff snagged the Maine assignment by virtue of a long association and now owning a home in Bath, where he lives when not teaching in the graduate fiction program at University of California’s Irvine campus.
Wolff writes in “A Note to the Reader” that his title, The Edge of Maine, misrepresents the book. He has described only one edge, and only the part of most significance to him: the coast from Boothbay Harbor to Castine, including the Penobscot Bay islands of Criehaven, Matinicus, North Haven, Butter and Islesboro. He says he worries about “reviewers,” meaning anyone “Maine-experienced” who has “strong feelings about the words a visitor chooses to describe what he sees. And of what that visitor has seen, what does he choose to describe? What has he seen but failed to observe, or observed but failed to comprehend?”
Wolff speaks to having limitations. One, to this reader, is a gender bias. Wolff’s focus is on a male-dominated history, landscape and literature. Louise Dickinson Rich and Carolyn Chute are the exceptions. (What about Sarah Orne Jewett, for example?) The pantheon is predominantly male. I’m also personally sorry Vinalhaven got short shrift, referred to mostly as a view across the Thorofare from North Haven. Readers might experience their own disappointments, as Wolff indeed anticipated. Besides quibbling over coverage, there are no illustrations, no index. But all of this is to say that, in what it is, the book is outstandingly and lovingly written, and readers will enjoy the excursion.
The Edge of Maine is written anecdotally, with each chapter a stand-alone story. Wolff writes to convey facts and a flavor for the particular Maine he knows and loves. A map offers some orientation. The contents are neither too demanding nor “lite.” In detailing what has shaped the state, Wolff references historical sources and contemporary accounts. He includes early events and influences as well as some current issues impacting Maine’s environment and quality of life. Another thread is Wolff’s personal experiences here, from childhood visits to sailing with his wife and two sons. Wolff selects memorable places, people and situations to describe. My personal favorite was the description of sailing in dense fog. You may never think of it in quite the same way again after reading “Edging Up On It.” Lost in pea soup and then rescued by a Ragged Island lobsterman who towed them into harbor in Criehaven, the severe conditions were described with, “Even the birds be walkin’.” Wolff presents lore with appreciation; he clearly relishes and maybe sometimes, like any good storyteller and myth maker, embellishes the “real” Maine. His art and craft make this book both enjoyable and educational for readers, whatever their familiarity with what Wolff self-deprecatingly refers to as “My Dull Edge of Maine.” He seems to imply his writing may not do it justice. That begs dissent. His account is full of vigor, an apt tribute to a place full of vim.
Tina Cohen writes from Vinalhaven and Amherst, Massachusetts.