One can argue about myths and stories, but it hard to disagree that our society is shrinking from one that encompasses land and people, a sense of place and of community, to one that concerns only ourselves, frightened because we long to control and dominate, but find it increasingly impossible in a world that refuses to obey linear, rational thought.

It would be unfair to describe the various narratives — it would rob the reader of the joy of discovery, of watching the tapestry woven into a complete whole, but there is one element of Spivey's quest that needs to be related. There is a refreshingly selfish quality to his tale, and it's worth quoting at length if for no other reason than to reveal a master writer at work:

If you have not made it through the demon night and faced the darkest of things, then as you walk down the street and notice some disheveled haunted person at the margin of life, stop and bow silently in their direction. In your mind ask for forgiveness. The darkness that you have ignored, your fear compounded with all other fear, echoes and vibrates through them. They suffer in part for you, for your unresolved sins.

I cannot be fully enlightened till everyone is. We share a common mind. As free as I might be from my own fear, I am still privy to your fear, to everyone's fear. I work to keep my mind clear. It is far easier if we did it together.

At the heart of The Great Western Divide is a simple message of self-discovery, but Spivey understands too well that finding oneself in the modern world is a complex, painful, time-consuming task. If one is receptive, the first reading will begin to create life change, and it will become a book that one will return to again and again for guidance.