I just finished reading “Patagonia in Four Seasons” in the Independent of Jan. 2-9, 2025, a remarkable first-hand report of a distant, little known land, other than the ubiquitous clothing manufacturer’s brand name.
However, the principal reason I am writing concerns the style of the article’s author, Mary Heebner. It is indeed rare to encounter such a wonder-full blend of imaginative, metaphor-laden, figurative prose mixed so seamlessly with realistically factual journalistic reporting, reporting often as stark as the Patagonian landscapes and of those hardy souls who inhabit them.
I feel compelled to extrapolate the following paragraph as an example of this mixture for those who may not have read the article:
“Ice is a filter — the thicker the ice, the bluer its color. As the incident light penetrates layers of ice, the rest of the spectral red and yellow hues fall away; only hues of blue and green make it through. Blue blossoms on water float by like ghosts in the night. Icebergs calve and strain with knuckle-cracking sounds, as if they were alive … when suddenly there is a crash and tearing rasp as a small knob of ice thunders into the sea. At sunset, a milky purple mist covers Cuernos del Paine, a fortress of rock that appears to covet light while cradling cold. Never have pastel shades of pink and blue appeared so foreboding.”
Another pithy observation of Ms. Heebner, speaking of the fishermen of Patagonia, stands out, interestingly reminiscent of the life and ultimate death of the great 19C English Romantic poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley:
“Romantics go off to sea, but only the realists return.”
Along with the subdued but sentient photography of UCSB alumnus Macduff Everton, this article offers a wellspring of inspiration for aficionados of great journalism and soulful photography. Unfortunately we live in a time when both seem in too short supply.