Letters from Our Readers

Geology Rocks

I enjoyed Kathryn Schulz's review of the geologist Marcia Bjornerud's autobiography, "Turning to Stone" (Books, September 2nd). As a retired geologist, I can personally attest to the value of thinking about deep time when assaulted by daily annoyances. It is perhaps inconsistent with this perspective that I take issue with a small detail in Schulz's otherwise lucid : in the penultimate paragraph, in reference to the human mind's ability to "represent scales of existence wildly different from its own," she lists, as an example, "the dark side of the moon." I understand the idiomatic appeal, but, in literal terms, the moon does not have a dark side. We only ever see one side of the moon—it is tidally locked to the Earth—but both sides receive roughly equal amounts of light. "Far side" would be more accurate.

Robert Baumgardner Austin, Texas

I congratulate Bjornerud for explaining geology in a way that lay readers can understand. In this regard, we geologists have been mostly remiss. We have spent much of our careers talking exclusively to one another, with the result, as Schulz writes, that the field is regarded as being "almost irrelevant."

The long time frame and slow pace of geological events might not seem all that relatable to most people. But there is a definite human scale. My neighbors in rural New England understand, in an abstract sense, that Africa and North America collided, metamorphosing the rocks and raising up the mountains, but what they are more immediately curious about is, What is that rock—the one that looks like the back of a whale—sticking up in my field? They understand that all of New England was once covered by massive glaciers, but a more pressing concern is, Why do I dig up sand in some places and clay in others—and is there a way to predict what I will find in the next hole? When profuse rain triggers a landslide in a nearby town and wipes out a property, people want to know if it could happen to their house, too. These geologic questions are interesting and, at times, vital to the daily lives of regular people. As geologists, we should all strive, whenever possible, to remain connected to the human world.

John S. Warren East Dummerston, Vt.

It was refreshing to read Schulz's piece, since we hear so little of geologists. But I was baffled by her description of geology as suffering from a reputation as "irredeemably stodgy." I took several geology courses in college, in the nineteen-seventies, and I had a geologist boyfriend. The geologists I knew had long hair and beards, took students on extended field trips throughout California, and smoked pot with us at the campfire. We were outdoors, hiking high in the rocks, touching science, and looking at stars all night. The geologists were smart, funny, interesting storytellers who drove beat-up Scouts and VW buses. Hardly stodgy.

Denise A. Hamilton Altadena, Calif.

Musical Note In her thoughtful profile of the songwriter, singer, and guitarist MJ Lenderman, Amanda Petrusich referred to the refrain from the song "Me and Bobby McGee": " 'Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,' as Janis Joplin famously sang" (Pop Music, September 9th). In doing so, she inadvertently neglected to credit another songwriter, singer, and guitarist, Kris Kristofferson, who penned the song. Tom Petty once said, of songwriting, "It's the only true magic I know. . . . It's your soul floating out to theirs." Janis Joplin added her soul to the song, but let us not forget the original magician.

Sherri Goodman Reveal St. Albans, W.Va.

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