Trinity University Press

Nature isn't only in a park or wilderness. It’s right outside our door Sometimes it’s on the door or comes inside to find us. Nature is the jumping spider on the screen, the assassin bug in the shower, and the cluster of ladybugs at the lamp. It is the moss on brick where gutters spill, a sycamore sprout in the storm drain, and the trash can lid turned into a bird bath.

Joanna Brichetto is a neurodiverse, late-blooming naturalist with a sharp eye. Despite having chronic illnesses, she spends much of her time exploring nature and has an infectious, almost zealous love for the flora and fauna near and in her Nashville home. In This Is How a Robin Drinks, Brichetto weaves observation, reflection, and commentary with unsentimental wit and an earthy humor into an urban almanac of fifty-two short lyrical essays.

Each piece offers a sketch of everyday wonders in everyday habitat loss. Nature is the dead sparrow in the pickup line at the elementary school, a full moon over the electric substation, and the cicada chorus that doesn’t make a days-long migraine any better (but doesn’t make it any worse either). Nature is under our feet, over our heads, and beside us—the very places we need to know first. Arranged by season, the pieces in this collection celebrate nature—just as it is—on the sidewalk and in the backyard, the park, and the parking lot.

How do we find a way to exist equitably in the world without exhausting our natural and cultural resources? Exploring how to create belonging, among both human and nonhuman animals, is our essential work. Parents have the added responsibility of conveying this charge to their children in a way that centers hope and empowerment over guilt and fear.

In Satellite, Simmons Buntin delves into the idea of belonging—in place, time, family, and community—in sixteen essays written over nearly two decades. The pieces range throughout the desert Southwest, on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico border, and as far afield as Mount Saint Helens, eastern Montana, northern Vermont, Sweden, and even the moon (if a telescope atop Kitt Peak counts). Buntin examines the beauty and challenges of raising a family and creating more sustainable communities in the Sonoran Desert—and, more broadly, in any of America’s diverse cultural and ecological landscapes. How should community be defined? How do we protect heritage in an age of globalization? How do we find renewal following personal and place-based trauma? What forms may grace take, and how can parents pass that dignity on to their children?

Fortunately, it is a responsibility both shared and rewarding, funny and phenomenal, for at every turn there is a new discovery, a new insight, a new integration between ourselves and the world that culminates, when we succeed, in a vibrant sense of place. Buntin searches for a balance between the built and natural environments and the beings that inhabit them in a way that enables us not only to survive but to thrive together.

When Jennifer Case became pregnant unexpectedly with her second child, she was overwhelmed at the prospect of caring for another child in a society with high expectations and low support for mothers. She sought to reclaim control over, if not her changing body, then at least her rapidly declining mental health. Immersing herself in research, Case learned that the United States has one of the highest maternal death rates among developed countries. One in every five women develops a mental health issue as a result of pregnancy. It became clear to her that in order to address the sexism and isolation mothers face—including the racism that further marginalizes women of color—we must recognize these as social problems that affect us all

We Are Animals draws attention to these issues by examining key moments in Case’s life where her experience as both a woman in twenty-first-century America and a child-bearing mammal, and the conflicts between these two identities, were brought into sharp relief. From the surprising salve of parasocial interactions on baby forums to the not so surprisingly intertwined history of industrial dairy farming and wearable breast pumps, Case explores an array of realities that give historical and cultural context to the experience of motherhood.

The essays collected here offer a balm for women who have struggled in silence over childbirth trauma, conflicted responses to motherhood, or a deeply felt intuition that what their bodies needed as mothers did not match what society provided. They also offer a much needed, nuanced perspective for policymakers, activists, and medical professionals who continue to shape women’s experience of motherhood.

"This soulful collection is perfect for fans of The Moth or Humans of New York." — Publishers Weekly

People in San Antonio love to tell stories. Worth Repeating: San Antonio Stories is a collection of forty true tales, epic adventures, and intimate revelations from the heart of one of America’s fastest growing and most culturally diverse cities.

There is the hilarious chronicle of being crowned Turkey Queen of Cuero, as well as stories of finding one’s place as an immigrant or refugee, the heartbreak of being on the AIDS epidemic’s front lines, and the redemption in writing My Little Pony fan fiction. From the birth of a Freedom Rider to the origins of a literary legend, from the search for a murdered mother’s memories to passing our abilities and disabilities along to our children, the pieces here are as varied and nuanced as the city its authors have called home at one time or another.

They might not all take place in Texas, but every story has roots in its streets, suburbs, and history. Whether it’s an account of being stranded in Uganda, growing up in a Mexican border barrio, catching swine flu in Thailand, being among Harvard University’s first Black architecture students, growing up in Iran, or leaving India for a new life in Texas, each story has a soul that is puro San Antonio. From last chances to first tries, all of these personal narratives were originally performed in front of an audience at Worth Repeating, Texas Public Radio’s live storytelling series.

Writers include Heather Armstrong, Tanveer Arora, Jennie Badger, Kiran Kaur Bains, Marion Barth, Sheila Black, Barbara Bowie, Norma Elia Cantú, Kelly Grey Carlisle, Cary Clack, Jess Elizarraras, Georgia Erck, Tiffany Farias-Sokoloski, Elizabeth Fauerso, Everett L. Fly, Larry Garza, Lorenzo Gomez III, Mike Knoop, David W. Lesch, Rey Lopez, Vanessa Martinez, Collin McGrath, Joaquin Muerte, Sanford Nowlin, Tori Pool, Wendy Rigby, Alex Rubio, Jonathan Ryan, Yara Samman, John Phillip Santos, Burgin Streetman, Whitley Strieber, Barbara S. Taylor, Michael Taylor, Kirsten Thompson, Clay Utley, Cristina Van Dusen, Eddie Vega, Ayon Wen-Waldron, and Bria Woods.

Observed in Mexico and parts of the United States, El Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is a celebratory holiday. Los Muertos is the first anthology of fiction relating to or inspired by this bicultural tradition. Each of the two dozen Mexican and Mexican American writers featured here has a unique affinity for the myriad ideas connected closely to the El Día de Muertos—some in less obvious ways. The stories connect to the metaphors and connotations related to memorializing the dead, some reflecting on the ritualized and religious aspects of what has become a commercialized holiday and others reacting to such cultural appropriations.

In spring 2014 Peggy Kokernot Kaplan, a former Trinity University athlete and cofounder of the women’s track team, emailed her alma mater’s athletic department asking the school to post statistics from the team’s 1975 season. It’s no surprise that they couldn’t fulfill her request, for Trinity had sparse records from the 1970s—not just for track and field but for most performances by female athletes before 1991, when the school joined a NCAA Division III conference.

What started as a humble email request nearly a decade ago has culminated in From the Sidelines to the Headlines: The Legacy of Women's Sports at Trinity University, an expansive book aimed at filling in the gaps in coverage of half a century of women’s intercollegiate sports. Former Trinity athlete Betsy Gerhardt Pasley and historian Doug Brackenridge, along with other members of the Trinity community, have collected hundreds of long-forgotten documents and conducted dozens of interviews with former students, coaches, and administrators to tell the fascinating, multifaceted story of women’s sports at this liberal arts school in San Antonio, Texas.

While the book focuses primarily on the post–Title IX years between 1972 and 1999, its scope extends to Trinity’s founding in 1869, illuminating the century-long evolution of women in competitive sports, at Trinity and elsewhere, before Title IX. The story, told alongside the cultural shifts that formed the social and athletic context for female athletes of the day, also documents the decision Trinity and other institutions of higher learning faced after Title IX: Should they adhere to a commercial model, in which a focus on athletics often overshadowed academics, or strive for a more balanced student-athlete, nonscholarship model? Trinity chose the latter and has decades of national championships and academic accolades to show for it.

After quitting her job with an awkward text to her boss, Lucie Frost planned to live out her early retirement fantasy. Except she was lost, an empty nester with no job, no structure, no identity, and no clear purpose. Everything changed after she binge-watched the television program 90 Day Fiancé one day, which led to a stream of answers to her question about midlife stagnation: What do we do with our lives when our jobs or children are no longer making those decisions for us?

Her trivia-filled memoir, How the Hell Did I Not Know That, follows the first year of Frost’s postretirement era, a year when curiosity pulled her off the couch and into a world where she discovered how to build a fulfilling life from the smallest of wonders—things like how to unboil an egg with urine (but why, oh why?), where the vice president of the United States lives (something we should know?), and why the sky is blue (wait, didn’t we learn that in third grade?).

How the Hell Did I Not Know That is a witty and honest companion, a girlfriend, if you will, for women in midlife who are struggling to find their place in the world, who are concerned about misogyny, climate change, and the industrial prison complex, just not while watching the latest episode of The Bachelor. Frost shows us that women “of a certain age” need to take themselves seriously while remembering to laugh at inappropriate things and that they can find meaning in life by relying on the power of curiosity.

When you stray from a trail and strike out into the woods, you are bushwhacking. The term implies a physical thrashing about—pushing past branches, slicing through thickets, leaping across downed trees—but it also implies a certain fortitude and resilience to seek places unknown. In Bushwhacking, Jennifer McGaha borrows the term, likening it to what writers do when faced with the equally daunting blank page. Exploring the wilderness of your inner life means leaving a relatively comfortable place and going where no path exists. Writers face similar, unknown obstacles when forging a route to a final draft.

Part writing memoir, part nature memoir, and part meditation on a life well lived, Bushwhacking draws on McGaha’s experiences running, hiking, biking, paddling, and getting lost across the Appalachian Mountains of western North Carolina to offer readers encouragement and practical suggestions to accompany them on their writing and life journeys. Each essay links one of McGaha’s forays into the wilderness to an insight about the creative process. An almost-failed attempt at zip lining becomes a lesson on getting out of one’s comfort zone. The thrum of a hummingbird’s wings, an autumn sunset, and a hound dog’s bay at a bear on the path are impromptu master classes in finding inspiration in the small, the ordinary, and the unexpected.

With humility, humor, and hard-won wisdom, Bushwhacking honors writing craft traditions and offers fresh insights into how close communion with nature can transform your writing and your life.

Stern meditates on the Lamb in Christianity and Judaism. He explores the mysterious life of the dragonfly in all its permutations and examines the comedy of the Marx Brothers and the idea of adultery in Noel Coward’s film Brief Encounter. Interwoven with his formidable recollections (Stern, it would seem, forgets nothing) are the author’s passionate discussions of his lifelong obsessions: issues of justice; his identity as a secular Jew who has strong objections to Israel’s political positions; and the idea of neighbors in various forms—from the women of Gee’s Bend who together make astonishing quilts to the Polish inhabitants of the small town of Jedwabne, who on a single day in 1941 slaughtered 1,600 Jews. Revealing a poet engaged with imagination, memory, and witness, and written in Stern’s signature, associative style, Stealing History is a significant literary achievement by one of our most celebrated poets.