The Literature of Cold Weather

by

Kat Warren

Seasons are perceived to be universally immutable but they’re not. North Americans experience four seasons but tropical Central and South America deliver only two—rainy (April through November) and dry (December through March). In Panama, where I was born and raised, the school break encompassed half of December plus January and February then half of March so kids could roam freely during the best weather. It is almost rainless during this period so humidity is low and there are soft dry-season breezes that whisper of heaven.    

Meanwhile, the U.S. schools in the Canal Zone lacked such civility. There we trudged to school during the best weather and enjoyed our traditional American summer during the steaming worst nature had to offer. Kids, though, are tough critters and most of us found ways to ameliorate the horrid weather either by lolling in the ocean at gorgeous beaches or by playing in the rain forest where temperatures were moderated by the dense shade. One such jungle was across the street from my house, which had been built early in 1910 and was a very ramshackle abode. Our garden was regularly overrun by coatimundi, slow-moving three-toed sloths, various snakes including vipers (ugh), and even an occasional visit from a tapir, an ungulate of particularly fine taste, according to natives.

Until age 11, I’d never experienced winter or snow. But in 1962 Dad packed us up to spend January and February in his home stomping grounds near the ranch on which he was born and raised in the Okanogan Highlands. We flew from Panama to Los Angeles and then on to Seattle where Dad rented a car (with snow chains!) and we struck out east over the Cascades to northeastern Washington State until we reached the Highlands. Our destination was the Nealey Ranch about six miles south of the Canadian border. Roy Nealey was Dad’s best friend. The Warrens lost their ranch in the aftermath of the Depression but the Nealeys hung on and were able to keep their ranch a going concern, even to this present day. 

Anyway, there we were, my brother David, and I, deposited on a ranch in the depths of winter not to mention the depths of snow. At first I was excited by the cold and the snowflakes and even the mounds of snow. I begged to be allowed out to play. Mother bundled me up in unfamiliar clothes including warm hat and mittens. Too bad no one restrained the ranch dog that followed me with glee and humped one or the other of my legs as I struggled through the snow drifts. Between that damn dog and the knee-deep snow it wasn’t long before I’d had more than enough. I like dogs. But not that one. Have you any idea how embarrassing it is to be an 11-year-old girl pursued by an entirely too friendly dog intent on humping your leg? Ghastly. To this day that remains my fundamental impression of snow and winter: freezing my tochus off as a randy dog made love to my leg.

Next day, the men adjourned to a nearby field to do some shooting. I’m not easy to discourage (nor do I learn easily) so I made a pest of myself until I was allowed to join them. I was all fluffed up at the idea of being with the guys who were going shooting. Dad Nealey had a big old rifle, something called a .300 Savage. This was given to me, and I was told to hold the stock snuggly against my shoulder, then take aim, which I did. Then I was to pull the trigger which I did, whereupon I was knocked back four feet, landing flat on my ass in the snow with a numb shoulder that later swelled up, hosting colors of black and blue. And, well, you know, that was funny—for the guys.

I learned three things from that trip: 1) don’t be in such a hurry to hang out with the guys; 2) never let them see you cry; and 3) winter sucks.

Meanwhile, here’s a list of books set in cold locales. They all deliver fine reading, and are much more entertaining than my first winter.

Fiction
Winter Range by Claire Davis
A small town in Montana is caught between the effects of the economy and the weather when a failing ranch puts starving cattle and horses smack in the faces of the citizens. An excellent novel made remarkable by the role of the weather, which becomes a telling character in the story. It’s also one of those rare novels that portrays a good marriage in all its complex, contradictory richness.

River Thieves by Michael Crummey
The great Canadian outback in the early 1800s is the setting for this not-for-wimps novel; strong stuff beautifully rendered.

Girls by Frederick Busch  
Another novel in which winter becomes a character acting on and acted upon. Ostensibly a murder mystery (and a good one), this novel explores a marriage on ice, the organic tension between town and gown, and features one mighty fine dog.

The Voyage of the Narwhal by Andrea Barrett
An unusual novel, gruesome in many ways, but compelling reading. Amateur adventurers sail to the arctic to learn the fate of a long-vanished expedition. They were supposed to be back home in Philadelphia before winter closed in but—guess what. The barbarous conditions on the ice-trapped ship parallel similar barbarian conventions in civilized Philadelphia.

White Fang & Call of the Wild by Jack London
Just read these marvelously rendered adventure stories full of heart, soul and admirable decency.

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin  
Possibly the best book ever on sex and gender, set on a frozen, wintry planet.  Superb.

The People’s Act of Love by James Meek
Set within the chaos of the consolidation of the Russian Revolution when the Bolsheviks have power but only just. It’s winter in Siberia in 1919 and anything can and does happen. A marvelously rich novel that holds readers captive until the final page.

The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
A savvy girl in heroine training, soul buddies, gypsies, a mysteriously stern uncle, a sophisticated vamp and, best of all, a degenerate polar bear redeemed—all engaged in a freezing journey to the arctic.


Non Fiction
Winterdance: The Fine Madness of Running the Iditarod by Gary Paulsen
The adventures of an amateur, self-taught dog-sled aficionado and his noble and humbling Iditarod run. Chock full of sly and blatant humor, many laughs and assorted insights and observations all worthy. Damn fine book.

The Cruelest Miles: The Heroic Story of Dogs and Men in a Race Against an Epidemic by Gay Salisbury and Laney Salisbury
Do we really need another book about the great dog-sled rescue team racing the serum to Nome to save the town from a diphtheria epidemic? Why, yes, actually, we do indeed. This thrilling book recounts not only the canine and human heroes of the rescue team but tells us about the heroes in Nome, e.g., the doctor who had to play god and how he did it. Also, the Balto myth is debunked.

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer
I have zip interest in mountain climbing and on those rare occasions when I have thought about it at all I’m generally tsk-tsking the insane foolhardiness of the effort. I never intended to read this tome but happened to rifle through it at a bookstore since, after all, that’s what one does. Rifling from back to front, when I reached page one, I looked at the first sentence, then the second and I was hooked. I bought the book and skedaddled for home where I slurped it down in a single wrenching evening. Do read this.  


Kat Warren is a corporate librarian in Northern California who lives with a fuchsia hybridist, their two elderly cats and too many books to count. Her preferred exercise workout is turning the pages of a good tome whilst guzzling champagne. She loves Bach (particularly the unaccompanied cello suites), beaches, books and a good bacchanal now and again. Kat can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it