I Have Learned to Define a Field as a Space between Mountains

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.

Summary

The chapter opens with the narrator questioning a memory of stroking hound’s-tongue and cracking its purple mouth—if it is not real, what defines the limits of the field? She recalls driving south toward Zion in a crowded truck with her mother, passing red wildflowers that someone calls “Indian paintbrush.” A photograph is taken under a giant flor de maga; her father fixes one petal behind her ear and speaks in Eyeri. The narrator describes herself as a “conjoined hibiscus-headed twin,” except she is local. She braids willow branches and swings across a canal, recalling Psalm 137 about exile by the rivers of Babylon. In any field, she feels she can be seen by someone despite being “blood-divided one hundred ways,” praying to the God called DO NOT BOARD THE SHIP, protected by many masters of the vine. As darkness falls, she searches behind cattails and scrambles through wood, feeling alone. The chapter ends with her childhood self flying a cheap kite that gets caught in pine sap; she returns home with pocketfuls.

Key Events

The narrator questions the reality of a memory involving hound’s-tongue.
A family drive south toward Zion in a crowded truck; red wildflowers are identified as Indian paintbrush.
A photograph under a flor de maga plant; the father speaks in Eyeri.
The narrator braids willow and swings across a canal, quoting Psalm 137.
She feels both divided and protected, seeking visibility in the field.
The field darkens as she searches for unseen presences.
A childhood kite gets stuck in pine sap; she returns home with pocketfuls.

Character Development

The narrator (Rio) questions memory, expresses a fragmented identity, and seeks connection to place and ancestry. Her use of Eyeri and biblical allusion shows the interplay of multiple cultural touchstones.
The mother appears as a driver, part of the family journey, though her role is peripheral.
The father is present in the photograph, speaking in Eyeri, linking the narrator to her ancestral language.
The unnamed “someone” who names the wildflower represents an external naming of the landscape, contrasting with the narrator’s uncertain memory.

Themes, Symbols, or Motifs

Field as a space between mountains: The title definition frames the field as a liminal, undefined place where memory and actuality blur.
Memory and doubt: The opening question—if the memory is not real, what bounds the field?—highlights the instability of recollection and identity.
Indigenous identity and diaspora: References to Eyeri, Psalm 137 (Babylonian exile), streets named after Ute tribes, and the God “DO NOT BOARD THE SHIP” all connect to forced migration, survival, and belonging.
Nature as witness: The field, wildflowers, willow, cattails, and pine sap are both physical elements and symbols of the narrator’s search for visibility and connection.
Photography and constructed identity: The photograph under flor de maga captures a posed identity, while the narrator questions the purpose of the image.

Why This Chapter Matters

This chapter deepens the book’s exploration of place, memory, and identity. By defining a field as a space between mountains, Cortez establishes a central metaphor for the liminal experience of diaspora—being between homelands, between languages, between remembered and actual landscapes. The speaker’s doubt about her own memories reflects the fragmentation of a displaced identity. The chapter integrates specific references to indigenous geography (Ute Country) and language (Eyeri), grounding the personal narrative in a larger history of colonization and survival. The final image of a child returning home with pocketfuls suggests quiet resilience. This chapter prepares the reader for subsequent examinations of home and belonging.

Study Questions

What does the narrator mean when she describes herself as “blood-divided one hundred ways”?
The phrase suggests that her identity is split across many lineages, cultures, or experiences, likely due to mixed heritage or displacement. It reflects the fragmentation she feels as she searches for visibility in the field.
How does the reference to Psalm 137 relate to the chapter’s setting?
Psalm 137 expresses the grief of exile and the difficulty of singing songs of home in a foreign land. In the chapter, the narrator is physically in Utah (Zion is a place name, but also a biblical metaphor for a lost homeland), and she grapples with her own sense of foreignness and memory. The willow branches she braids are the same trees on which the exiles hung their harps.
Why does the chapter end with the child walking home “with pocketfuls”?
The pocketfuls imply that despite the kite getting caught and the failure of play, she still gathers something—perhaps seeds, stones, or bits of the field. It suggests a quiet accumulation of experience, a taking of the landscape with her, even as she leaves the field.