“The West is one of the last places on Earth where thoughts around wilderness as inoculation against the darker forces of modernity are still in the ether, in the discourse, in people’s decisions to live off the grid, on the land, in the hoop. For the first time in my life, I was beginning to understand the West and its promise, real and imagined, of freedom, escape, transcendence, and its promise to turn us from predator to prey.”

I received a copy of Surrender through Netgalley and apparently missed in the description that the author is Canadian and has been residing in London for much of her adult life. It was clear to me in the first few chapters that this was probably not the book for me. I have always lived in rural areas, with the most populated place I’ve called home being my college town of maybe 55,000 people. I also found reading commentary on American landscapes and wild spaces and Western culture from someone who is not American and spent a meager two years living in a single American city to be a bit off putting (why not focus on the rural landscapes of and similarly problematic and violent colonization of Canada?). Much of my identity comes from the wide open spaces of the United States that you would be hard pressed to find elsewhere in the world. Am I being defensive? Yes. Is it justified? I feel as though it could be.

Most of the cultural experiences Pocock seeks out during her two years in Montana involve fringe groups. While these portraits were engaging, the majority of them don’t represent the culture generally found in the rural American West. I suppose maybe in that they speak to the nature of the isolated pockets of the West being refuges and safe havens for nonconformists and extremists. However, the bulk of the rural West is quiet people leading unpretentious lives in a way they hope will be fulfilling and will nurture their families. While Pocock is relatively upfront about choosing only to explore these radical lifestyles, I think it is irresponsible of her to use these as a foil for the majority of rural culture in the American West.

Additionally, her ignorance regarding the management of livestock and wildlife (a concept she refers to as “ridiculous”) is apparent, as she dismisses brucellosis as simply a vehicle that ranchers use to prevent further proliferation of wild buffalo, despite it being a highly infectious reproductive disease that can be transmitted to humans, and scoffs at the impact of wild animals on the land. She dismisses big game hunting as something hunters do exclusively for “fun” and so they can share photos of dead animals on the internet, ignorant to the fact that the majority of hunters feel a deep respect for and kinship to the animals that feed their families, a reverential experience of hunting that she reserves exclusively for Native American hunters. Pocock is someone who chooses not to eat meat and mentions being “disturbed” by dead animals, so I’m also not sure that her reflections on the sacredness of hunting should be the ones we’re turning to for wisdom on the matter anyway.

Despite numerous issues I perceived in regards to Pocock’s perspective and how she has chosen to represent what remains of the wild spaces of the West, her voice is rich and generous. I appreciated her discussions of an incremental approach to global change, the idea that not every conscious choice needs to be monumental, and her quiet observances of the magic language of wild and indigenous spaces upon which all outsiders have profited. I felt as though Surrender was gaining momentum, and then 2/3rds of the way through, Pocock attends an ecosex gathering where she goes on an emotional tangent about how conversations about consent ruin the spontaneity and adventure of sex, which for me was the straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say.

I think if you’re someone who has never lived in the rural American West, who is looking for an outsider’s cursory take on countercultures and radical groups found there, or who shares Pocock's penchant for a very particular brand of environmental philosophies, Surrender will read as fresh, candid, and revelatory. As someone who has spent years living, breathing, and experiencing the wild spaces and rural communities of the American West and who has rather strong feelings about consent, I felt that Surrender was not without sageness, but overall shallow and presumptuous. Pocock oscillates between wide-eyed, almost child-like awe at the counterculturists she has decided are wholesome, serene, and symbiotic beings and slack-jawed horror at the counterculturists she has deemed not worthy of the nuance she affords the others, pegging them as violent, one-dimensional, and embodying “What is wrong about the West”. Despite Pocock’s appealing writing style, her nuggets of wisdom and occasional astute observations were unfortunately not enough to redeem this one for me. ( )

It is said that as we approach our fifties that this can be one of the most stressful parts of our lives. Our bodies are changing, the pressures of looking after sick parents can take their toll and often the demands of children and teenagers can be too much. Joanna Pocock was in this position, menopause had begun and she had recently lost her parents and she needed something to take her away from the humdrum life in London.

She has a fascination with radical environmental movements and was seeking a reconnection to nature. An opportunity presented itself and with her husband and daughter, she left London and headed to the America West and the state of Montana. Whilst there she finds those that have taken a back seat from society and who are trying in their own way to reconnect with the natural world. She attends an Ecosex conference, meets Native Americans as they perfect the skills their ancestors once had, talks with hunters who care little about the landscapes they are walking through and listens to others who are seeking to rewild those same landscapes.

I have witnessed that western light gathers in intensity and sharpness as it crosses the landscape towards me. The vastness, the inscrutability of so much space performs an act of initiation. It does things to you that cannot be undone.

She approached these people and places with very much an open mind and is prepared to listen to all that she is told. Using this it means that she can form her own opinion of what is going on and more importantly to see if there is another way that she can interact with the world around her. I thought it was really nicely written, she is non-judgemental about all of the people that she comes across, open to different perspectives and most of all curious. Most of all this is about the way that she is testing things out to see where her place in the world will be for the future. ( )