Ground truth : a geological survey of a life

In her new book “Ground Truth: A Geological Survey of a Life,” Ruby McConnell takes us back to a date seared in the memory of many Pacific Northwesterners - Sunday, May 18, 1980 - the day Mount St. Helens erupted. McConnell was only a toddler at the time in Seattle, but this cataclysmic event set her career path in science. From early interactions with schoolmates, McConnell understands that she views the natural world differently and that difference fuels her desire to share her vision. Ground Truth is an environmental science book wrapped up in a memoir. McConnell effortlessly shifts between a scientific explanation of data and theory and her personal story and development.

McConnell’s writing is clear, descriptive and lyrical. For those who have never visited the Pacific Northwest, maybe only have seen pictures, McConnell gives us the ground truth - “the process of going back and verifying observations and accounts made over distance and time in the field.” You feel the desolation of the strange landscape of Christmas Valley, Oregon, when she and her fellow graduate students attempt the difficult task of mapping its features. It is “an easy place to get lost, the vastness of absence reaches out in all directions, leaving few landmarks with which to orient oneself.” She shares the heartbreak and hopelessness she feels as she works with nervous homeowners whose oceanside property is being slowly eroded away or when she visits a research forest on a steep and craggy mountain engulfed in the roar of chainsaws and surrounded by clear cut acres. 

This is a fascinating read for those who wouldn’t pick up a “science” book; her personal stories bring a universal insight. And for those who turn away from memoir as being too “navel-gazing,” McConnell grounds her insights in the real understanding of the physical world. As McConnell gains the perspective of time not afforded to the young idealists, she comes to a hopeful understanding of her life, her work and the natural world we call home.

In Mconnell’s novel the Earth becomes a living breathing entity, as real as Mconnell is herself. The way she intertwines stories of childhood and heritage with geological history made me long for the familiar places she wrote about. I don’t usually enjoy scientific novels but something about this one felt different… It felt personal, raw and real. I think the memoir style makes the geological aspects much more approachable for the everyday reader. Even if you’re not from the PNW yourself, there is so much to enjoy about the nature of the West Coast. And if you’ve never visited, there’s absolutely no way you won’t want to after reading this novel. 

As a native Oregonian, I felt Mconnell’s novel peel back layers of my own childhood memories that I had long forgotten about. I loved reading about her heart wrenching experience with Council Crest. As I read, feelings of nostalgia washed over me as I remembered my own teenage experiences of sneaking into the park after dark. The park, as long as I can remember it, has always been full of interesting types of people; some families, some young teenagers and some, like Mconnel’s sister, drug addicts. Her memories of her sister as both a chef and an addict forced me to consider the dark parts of Portland intertwined with all the hipster coffee shops and craft breweries. As cliche as it sounds, it really makes you think. As I read through the novel I kept feeling sparks of joy and PNW pride thinking “Hey I’ve been there!”. The way she described our oceans and forests with such detail and love for the outdoors was absolutely perfect and I wouldn’t have described them any differently.

Ultimately, Mconnell’s novel is a call to action: we must save our planet before it’s too late because there is still time. Like Mt. St Helen’s recovery, Ecological recovery is possible too. She leaves the reader with a choice: the choice to do better and make smart decisions about the environment that surrounds us all.

Ground Truth by Ruby McConnell effortlessly weaves together science and literature. I am not usually a nonfiction reader, and I was pleasantly surprised at how accessible McConnell makes the geological side of the book. Not once did I feel lost by what she was describing just because I'm not a scientist. I can tell McConnell is an introspective and thoughtful person by the way she relates her own stories to the story of the land she has lived and worked on.

"The forces and situations that have shaped my life and those of everyone in the region are knitted to the land, to forces both in and out of our control." 

Having just moved to Portland this year, I found it interesting to learn the history of the place I'm now living in. I made many notes on places I want to visit in the Pacific Northwest because of McConnell's story. McConnell demonstrates how the connections between the land and the people have an impact on our lives, and the gratitude we should all have for the world's beauty, power, and mystery. But she also explains how we should respect this planet we live on and work toward preserving/preventing more damage. She also mentions at the beginning that we must remember that these are not our lands, as they were stolen from the Native American people that came before us—which is so important to remember. The book ends on a hopeful note, which I appreciate in the doom and gloom of the era we live in. Life perseveres, and there is always hope for the future.