There's a new novel coming out at the end of October called Daughters of Fire by Tom Peek. It's a story that includes romance, intrigue, murder and Hawaiian cultural values that remind us of the sacredness of the 'aina (land). As someone who grew up on the Big Island of Hawai'i, I appreciated that the book honored the island and its local people. It was hard to put down.
Tom Peek is a Midwesterner who spent his early years on the Upper Mississippi on a backwater island of Minnesota filled with river folk, beavers, and ancient burial mounds. After hitchhiking by boat through the South Seas, he settled on the island of Hawai'i where he's lived for two decades. There, he has been a mountain and astronomy guide on Mauna Kea and an eruption ranger, firefighter, and exhibit writer on Kilauea. He has worked closely with Hawaiian elders and cultural practitioners on both volcanoes.
In addition to his adventures and novel writing, Tom has written newspaper stories and commentaries, magazine articles, public policy studies, and award-winning video productions. Since 1991 hundreds of islanders have attended his popular Empowered by the Pen workshops, inspired in part by the work of Natalie Goldberg. His writing classes have been sponsored by the University of Hawai'i at Hilo, Volcano Art Center, and other venues on the Big Island, Maui and Lana'i. He lives with his wife, artist Catherine Robbins, in a rainforest cottage a few miles below Kilauea's erupting summit. I called him recently to talk about his new book.
June Tanoue: Why did you write this book?
Tom Peek: Initially for myself, to better understand the experiences I was having in Hawai'i. I had also sailed through the South Pacific. Being a writer and wanting to move away from nonfiction, I started the novel to process these experiences.
The Mississippi, where I lived until I was 33, also had a profound influence on my life. Like the volcano, that mighty river can be both a creative and destructive force. In Hawai'i I found that the connection to nature I had felt on the river was even more so here - with less intrusion by the built environment. I met cultural practitioners on both volcanoes, and as a Mississippi "river rat", I felt an immediate kinship with them. They felt the same way about their island as I had felt on the river, and they had wisdom born of their connection to nature. The longer I was here, the more I wanted to express how I felt about Hawai'i and the power of nature.
Hawaiians hold a sacred view of nature and are wiser than most Westerners when it comes to our proper relationship with it. At the University of Minnesota I had worked for one of the first people to testify before Congress against global warming, so I understood the importance of these concepts. There is as much in the book about American culture as Hawaiian culture. I thought maybe I could write something of what I'd learned here and express that back to the western culture that is encroaching. So I wrote the novel in a way that would be accessible to people beyond the islands. Hawai'i and Hawaiian people are endangered and I wanted to express that. What I felt on Kilauea and Mauna Kea, and the sense of urgency, is relayed in the story.
JT: I loved your epilogue - and putting forth a positive vision of the future.
TP: I'm glad it felt possible. What I've learned in Hawai'i is that many of the problems we attribute to human nature are, in fact, western cultural problems. We can learn from Polynesians, seafarers who lived for 5,000 years in canoes and on small islands. They learned how to get along with others. When you look at the concepts of aloha, malama aina, lokahi, these are powerful. We can embrace that wisdom and that can help well beyond Hawai'i's shores.
The eruption in the story serves as a call to "wake up". When people wake up - have full discernment - they will do good things. I think the image of the future at the end of the book is possible - but we have to look honestly at the cultural roots of our problems to get there, to understand how different people walk different realities.
I really feel, with Joseph Campbell, that mythic narratives-whether ancient or contemporary-are powerful stories. It's important to communicate what our teachers and the land has taught us. We are better off to deify nature than to reduce it to mere "natural resources" that we use up. This is critical to the whole planet right now, and to the survival of traditional cultures that still identify with nature. Hawaiians have told me that the lessons of the land come up through our feet. That means we must stay grounded to gain that wisdom.
We are not destined to have a ruined world. We can learn from the people who still cherish beauty and who have a sense of universal love in their hearts. If we don't displace those cultures, that wisdom can spread. The great cataclysm at the end of the novel creates the possibility of a new mythic story - and not just about preserving Hawai'i - a new narrative that will make people think, and become wise.
When I talk with Hawaiian practitioners about na'au, their description is similar to what Buddhists like Christmas Humphreys call "intuition". I can hear my na'au but obeying it is not always easy.
My kupuna taught me that "you cannot see the light without the dark," that both are part of nature. This is similar to what I'd read in Buddhist texts. Very different from the Judeo-Christian culture I grew up in, that seeks perfection.
Another thing you learn in Hawai'i is the power of multiculturalism. Americans could learn that island lesson too. It's something I hope comes through in the novel.
