To Annie Dillard, the north—specifically the empty, cold expanses in and around the arctic circle—represents the spiritual realm. It is important to note that her knowledge of the north and the Indigenous people who live there comes primarily from books written by White explorers and anthropologists. Readers should thus take her assertions about Indigenous cultures and traditions not as culturally accurate but as evocative of the ideas she already associates with the north as a site of revelation and exposure. With scant resources and ample dangers, living in the north requires grappling with the dangerous and dark side of life on a regular basis. For Dillard, it thus represents a choice to live not despite danger and darkness but in kinship with it. The emptiness of the landscape—both the endless vistas of unbroken snow and the enduring darkness of night during the long polar winter—suggest a soul stripped of all extraneous beliefs and attachments, a soul capable of remaining in the present moment in the way Dillard wishes to. She also associates the emptiness of the north with via negativa, or path of negation, a mystical approach to understanding the divine that operates by identifying not what God is, but what God is not.
North Quotes in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Chapter 3 Quotes
An Eskimo traveling alone in flat barrens will heap round stones to the height of a man, travel till he can no longer see the beacon, and build another. So I travel mute among these books, these eyeless men and women that people the empty plain. I wake up thinking: What am I reading? What will I read next? I’m terrified that I’ll run out […] In the meantime, I lose myself in a liturgy of names. The names of the men are Knud Rasmussen, Sir John Franklin, Peter Freuchen, Scott, Peary, and Byrd; Jedidiah Smith, Peter Skene Ogden, and Milton Sublette; or Daniel Boone singing on his blanket in the Green River Country. […] I like the clean urgency of these tales, the sense of being set out in a wilderness with a jackknife and a length of twine.
Chapter 14 Quotes
At the seashore you often see a shell, or fragment of a shell, that sharp sands and surf have thinned to a whisp. There is no way you can tell what kind of shell it had been, what creature it housed […] All you hold in your hand is a cool shred of shell, an inch long, pared so thin it passes a faint pink light, and almost as flexible as a straight razor. It is an essence, a smooth condensation of the air, a curve. I long for the North where unimpeded winds would hone me to such a pure slip of bone. But I’ll not go northing this year. I’ll stalk that floating pole and frigid air by waiting here. I wait on bridges; I wait, struck, on forest paths and meadow’s fringes, hilltops and banksides, day in and day out, and I receive a southing gift.



