Water as Remedy and Poison

The theme of poison in nineteenth century nature writing has come up in class discussion several times over the course of the semester, specifically with Rural Hours and Canadian Wild Flowers. A twist on the same theme can be found in The Land of Little Rain, but Austin writes about poisonous water instead of poisonous plants. Poisonous water first appears in the very beginning of “Water Trails of the Ceriso,” which is a section about the trails animals make in their endless pilgrimage to spots of drinkable water, the highest commodity in the desert:

There is little water in the Ceriso at the best of times, and that little brackish and smelling vilely, but by a lone juniper where the rim of the Ceriso breaks away to the lower country, there is a perpetual rill of fresh sweet drink in the midst of lush grass and watercress. (Austin 12)

Another example of poisonous water occurs in the passage we were asked to write about in “Other Water Borders,” which focuses on how water runoff from neighboring mountains affects both wild and cultivated plants in the desert:

In all the valleys and along the desert edges of the West are considerable areas of soil sickly with alkali-collecting pools, black and evil-smelling like old blood. Very little grows hereabouts but thick-leaved pickle weed. Curiously enough, in the stiff mud, along roadways where there is frequently a little leakage from canals, grows the only western representative of the true heliotropes…After so much schooling in the virtues of water-seeking plants, one is not surprised to learn that its mucilaginous sap has healing powers. (91-92)

These two depictions of nature and water are certainly far from romantic, but I find them extremely interesting because both examples conflate remedy (water) with poison. In the first selection, Austin emphasizes the fact that there is a limited supply of water in the Ceriso, but that the majority of the accessible water is undrinkable. However, one can find healthy water that will nourish the body if one only knows where to look by following the growth of grass and watercress. In the second selection, the poisonous water is characterized as stagnant water that collects minerals that makes the water not only unhealthy to consume, but absolutely fetid and repulsive. This implies a paradox—that which one searches to find also repels. Within the same paragraph, Austin turns from the poisonous water to the contrasting healing powers of the heliotropes that find adequate places to grow in such a hostile environment.

So, my question is: what do we make of this theme? What purpose does the notion of naturally occurring poisons (specifically poisons that harm the human body) hold in nature writing? This question immediately reminded me of the paradox in Plato’s work called “pharmakon,” which can be translated as “drug that is both remedy and poison.” I know that Plato discusses the concept of “pharmakon” in his “Phaedrus” and Derrida explores Plato’s treatment of the word in “Plato’s Pharmacy.” I see a similarity in the way in which Plato discusses “pharmakon” and the way in which Austin presents water in The Land of Little Rain. The desert is a paradoxical environment where things that are absolutely necessary for life, such as water, are not readily available to human consumption and where water is available, it can become poison to the human body.

I think in Austin’s case, the theme of poisonous water as both remedy and poison underscores the larger moral argument of the book—that nature is bigger than humankind. Austin appears to argue that nature is not made for the sole purpose of human consumption because there are many examples, such as the scarcity of drinkable water in the desert, where humans must adapt to their environment. In order for humans to live in nature they must live in a symbiotic relationship by taking the example of the desert plants and animals. Austin continually points out that strangers in the desert are not well suited for survival. For example, early on in the book she says, “man-height is the least fortunate of all heights from which to study trails” (10). The point is that Austin advocates a certain way of seeing—an animal or plant perspective—that enables humans to better discern remedy from poison.