“The thing that makes literature from the Ohio River Valley distinct from Midwestern literature – and indeed makes it geographically distinct from the Midwest – our telos is the ebb and tide of commerce and things that move. That the river is always in flux is what gives the Ohio River Valley it’s unique and complex history, culture, and art. At it’s core, there’s a stubbornness, a caution when it comes to change; but there’s also an inherent ability to embrace what the river brings. It’s as natural as the ebb and flow of the river. The South, the Midwest, and even Appalachia — culturally, they are built on a resistance to change, that can border on a dangerous nostalgia. The Ohio River Valley, with our deep-rooted tradition kept in the stories like those of Mike Fink and the Gator Horse Keel Boat Captains, takes whatever comes, keeps what is useful, and lets the river carry the rest away.” – from Part 2

It’s taken me a while to suss this out. The idea’s been rolling around in my head for a few years now; it would crop up from time to time, annoy me with my inability to find the proper words. It’s been the catfish that wouldn’t be caught; it climbs up out of the mud, nibbles on my line, then disappears into the channel.

Where I’ve been stuck is in this concept of telos (from the Greek: goal or purpose), which Meghan O’Gieblyn uses in her book Interior States: Essays (2018) to build a definition of Midwestern culture. For O’Gieblyn, the Midwest is defined by the LOSS of telos, which I interpret as a loss of status dating back to Carl Van Doren’s “The Revolt from the Village” published in The Nation in 1921. This loss, which lends to the Midwest being thought of as “pass through” or “fly over” states, makes sense to me as a defining characteristic — for the Midwest. But the Ohio River Valley, which connects parts of five states, which has been both the main artery of commerce and the mythic wild west long before Billy the Kid and the western cowboys, doesn’t fit into the paradigm. Yes, we’ve experienced economic devastations, battles, sickness. Losses of core industries, especially inland ship building dating back to WWII, shifts in shipping building and a general divesting in the river fronts by communities that owe their very existence to the river have all contributed to a what could be described as a loss of purpose or status.

The difference is, though, that while no one was looking, life on the river carried on. Tugs still push barges up and down the river; better environmental laws and communities beginning to take a renewed interest in their river fronts as areas of economic development have led to a resurgence of life. Rivers ebb and rivers flow and so does life along them. Literature from the Ohio River Valley does not linger in the past, but it does connect to it, like tributaries to the main artery. We know where we’ve come from but we know we we’re heading somewhere else. It’s a literature of permanent transition. From the trappers, traders, and slavers, to the mythic keelboat captains like Mike Fink, Gator Horse writers are tied together not by genre, or even a common approach to language. But like the people who passed through on the Ohio River on keelboats, on expeditions, and (in some places) on foot they are tied together by the river itself. The river has defined the life along its natural boundaries and later, its artificially created boundaries, for as long as there have been people and the river. Like any avenue of mass immigration and commerce, people bring their own relationships with language and forge their own relationship with the geography.

Part 4: Laying out the Cartography

When I first started this project, I thought I could just focus on literature; but I’m not one who thinks one should separate the art from the time it was created. So instead I’m going to try and tie a lot of threads together into what I hope will be a much stronger line, connecting writing, music, and painting to the cultural, historical, socioeconomic, and anthropological aspects of the Ohio River Valley. And because I want to start with literature, I’m going to hold off and that and begin with what will end up being an extremely brief version of the river’s socioeconomic story. From there, I’ll be sharing stories from the region’s historical and cultural heritage, including some not-very-pleasant facts that continue to haunt us; and then I’ll end with art, music, and literature, without which we would have no understanding of the Ohio River Valley at all.