Book Review: Thin Places by Jordan Kisner (2020)
A heady, enchanting, inspiring, and unhurried read whose pages fly
When we lose our faith, what gods and mythologies do we discover? How do we make meaning of life outside the structure of organized religion? Touching on Christianity, culture, art, politics, sexuality, race, nature, and philosophy, Kisner leaves no stone unturned in her imaginative, insightful collection of essays, whose topics range from debutante dresses to a theoretically immortal forest to the politics of dead bodies. As its title suggests, the collection explores “thin” areas, literal and metaphoric places that fall in the in-between. While the range of focus is broad, the insight is razor sharp. But Kisner’s edge isn’t snarky; it’s buffered by a sense of humor and an imperceptible, patient curiosity. The pages fly while time slows down.
Thin Places has its finger on the pulse of American identity, delving into our collective longing for meaning and happiness. Kisner shows us how easy it is to be misguided. “So American, this show,” she says of Say Yes to the Dress; “you just go to the store and choose yourself off a rack at your preferred price point.” Consumer culture offers only emptiness, by this estimation. But in other contexts, emptiness can inspire, as in the installation artwork of Ann Hamilton profiled in the essay The Big Empty. There’s potential for change in empty space. Potential for inventing our own mythologies, our own sense of identity.
There’s nothing more American than the pursuit of happiness—an expectation that comes with high stakes, and can ironically breed disquiet and insecurity.
As such, a current of anxiety courses beneath the surface of Kisner’s essays. What happens to us after we die? How do we maintain a sense of self when our brains betray us? How do we save ourselves from ruin and destruction? With the worry comes a thin layer of consolation: nature predates and supersedes our human concerns; dilapidated buildings can become places of wonder and play; pageantry can foster a sense of belonging. Kisner leads us to reflect without dashing our sense of hope.
This inquisitive, but gentle approach to the subject matter is necessary, because people are predisposed to fear thin places. “If we are permeable the risks are infinite, and it’s comforting to imagine firm borders guarding our soft places.” Kisner reminds us that the mind’s boundaries are literally imagined. Black and white thinking soothes us but keeps us “radically impoverished.” We need more awareness of the in-between. Not only to ignite a sense of wonder, but to remember that the world isn’t made up of binary truths.
Like the installation art Kisner loves, this collection feels like a space unto itself, one that inspires a feeling of“the largeness of the space and the story in your mind, and the smallness of your body and your story in the world—and that you are alive and space is alive and the two of you, you and the space, are doing this thing together.” Reading Kisner’s work feels like a thing done with her, whether her writing takes you to a toxic lake or a midnight rave. This read will teach you something new and challenge you to see the familiar differently.