Library Journal
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McPhee is the most celebrated contemporary writer on North American geology, and Annals is his magnum opus, combining edited and revised sections from previous works with two new essays. (LJ 5/1/98) (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Book list
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McPhee began studying the geology of the U.S. 20 years ago, cruising Interstate 80 in the company of geologists and listening intently to their decodings of the rock strata visible in road cuts. What look merely like colorful outcroppings to the uninitiated are actually records of deep time and the stupendous heavings, splittings, and crushings of the earth's crust. A strictly literary guy, McPhee was first drawn to geology by the poetics of its nomenclature and his love of land, but he found himself captivated as well by the personalities of the scientists he befriended and soon realized that what he had conceived of as a good idea for a single piece of writing was in fact the subject of a lifetime. He filled four books with accounts of his geological journeys across North America, books now legendary for rendering a technical discipline alluring enough for even the most science-phobic of readers and for elevating creative nonfiction to the level of art: Basin and Range (1981), In Suspect Terrain (1983), Rising from the Plains (1986), and Assembling California (1993). Here he brings those four books, revised and updated, together with one more, previously unpublished geological work, Crossing the Craton, a study of the low-profile country of the heartland. The five volumes together form a portrait of the continent--a magnificent narrative that not only tracks the drama of North American geological history but also chronicles the rapid evolution of the theories and practice of geology itself and tells the intriguing stories of people for whom love of rocks has meant love of life. (Reviewed April 1, 1998)0374105200Donna Seaman

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

McPhee (Irons in the Fire, 1997, etc.) winds up his artful geohistory of the US by going deep into the heartland--Kansas, Nebraska--in pursuit of deep time: the Precambrian. Included in this collection are his four previous forays into geology--Basin and Range (1981, which, to encapsulate, delineated plate tectonics), In Suspect Terrain (1983, Appalachian geohistory and some broadsides at plate tectonic theory), Rising from the Plains (1986, Wyoming curiosities and environmental conundrums), and Assembling California (1993, a showcase for active tectonics). Here he adds ``Crossing the Craton''--craton being the rock basement of the continent--delving into the realms of ``isotopic and chemical signatures, cosmological data, and conjecture,'' in the company of geochronologist Randy Van Schmus. McPhee has a way of making deep structures seem freestanding, right there to ogle: ``the walls of the rift are three thousand feet sheer,'' they?re also 600 feet below the surface. Dexterous as ever, McPhee takes on the creation--early island arcs and vulcanism and microcontinents--and tells it with all the power and simplicity a genesis story deserves. (25 maps)

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Alaska: the last frontier, a land of insulated stalwarts, climatic exigencies, and nineteen streams named Salmon. McPhee came into the country as a capital dilemma was being resolved--the search for a site apart from staid, remote Juneau and sleazy, neon Anchorage--a few years after the Native Claims Settlement Act had enriched the Indian population, indirectly enabling Alyeska to cable home. His deftly stratified report, written with a strong sense of place, includes a river trip with assorted ""ecomorphs,"" short flights with the factious capital search committee, and a nonpareil section on town folk and people of the bush. Townspeople come from Pennsylvania or Texas or South Dakota, repudiating less worthy lifestyles. In some ways small-town life resembles suburban styles in the Lower Forty-eight: although produce suffers from jet lag and peanut butter jars often contain gold dust, a local storekeeper is nicknamed Taiwan (because of his merchandise), neighbors squabble incessantly, alcoholism and unemployment are chronic. Those in the bush are a prickly, competitive lot, intent on a life ""beyond community""; many live out childhood dreams of self-reliance; a few admit to serial frictions in pre-Alaska days. They grow or catch most of their food, make their own clothes, and tacitly vie for Most Independent. Anchorage is indistinguishable from Albuquerque (""You can smell the greed in the air""); Sierra Club types are less popular than grizzlies; and lately a synonym for native is stockholder. More significant than the petty rivalries and personal histories are resident conflicts over rights--development, conservation, individual enterprise--which are reminiscent of the rancher/farmer tensions of pioneer days and will ultimately determine the future of the landscape. As in his other books, McPhee's seemingly effortless work is a polished composition which replaces stereotypes with cross-hatched figures and allows the odd detail, the offhand remark to enlarge the scene (systematically probed in Lost Frontier, p. 1023). Flecked with irony, written with rhythm and style--and more than the sum of its parts. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Publishers Weekly
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A feast for all John McPhee fans, this major book incorporates some of the author's best work on geology into a comprehensive tour de force. Those familiar with McPhee's writing on the subject of geology will know that his narrative includes not only scientific theory but also portraitures of his geologic guides. While the majority of this material has appeared in the New Yorker and in books such as Basin and Range, In Suspect Terrain and Rising from the Plains, the collection, which includes 20,000 new words, is much more than a recycling of past writing. As McPhee says, "The text has been meshed, melded, revised, in some places cut, and everywhere studied for repetition." McPhee's many fans won't be disappointed with the high-quality descriptive portraits of geologists, their work and theories. Since the writing follows McPhee's previous works and not any set geography or geologic logic, the author has provided what he calls a "Narrative Table of Contents," which not only describes each section in turn but the theories discussed in it. In this near flawless compilation of ambitious and expansive scope, McPhee's personalized style remains consistent and triumphant: "Ebbets Field, where they buried the old Brooklyn Dodgers, was also on the terminal moraine. When a long-ball hitter hit a long ball, it would land on Bedford Avenue and bounce down the morainal front to roll toward Coney Island on the outwash plain. No one in Los Angeles would ever hit a homer like that." 25 maps, not seen by PW. (June) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved