Properties of Thirst
Published: October 13, 2022
Thirst embeds itself – in the body, in the landscape, in consciousness – with a slow creep. There’s the recognition of it taking hold, the yearning for refreshment, the relief when drenching rains arrive.
These “properties of thirst” come vividly alive in Marianne Wiggins’ expansive, thoroughly engaging new novel of the same name. A story of family, responsibility, and the tug of heritage, it applauds decency and determination while weighing the roles of individuals in collective wrongs.
A finalist for both a Pulitzer Prize and a National Book Award, Wiggins has earned accolades ranging from the Whiting Writers’ Award to an NEA grant. She’s been described as writing with “a bold intelligence and an ear for hidden comedy,” praise that certainly applies to “Properties of Thirst.”
In the French language, one has thirst, like a shadow or an ache. In the parched Owens Valley of 1940s California where much of the story takes place, the land chafes and buckles beneath this burden of thirst. The water – never plentiful, but historically sufficient – has been redirected south to slake the swell of Los Angeles. All but one ranching family is gone.
And what a family it is: strong-willed, capable, striving and stubborn – and yes, thirsting: for solace, for answers, for its role in the community. At its head looms Rocky, a scion of East Coast wealth who opts to carve a new life out West from the wind-swept soil abutting the Eastern Sierra. His twin sister, Cas – unfussy, steady, “six-three in her stockings” – serves as de facto parent to Rocky’s children, Sunny and Stryker, who are also twins. Since his wife’s death, Rocky fills his days wandering the foothills with his dogs and building a legal case against the Los Angeles water thieves.