Author: Deanne Burch

Publisher: Authority Publishing

ISBN: 978-1-949642-59-9

I really don’t care how wild an imagination any particular fiction author may claim to have. What he or she writes will never equal in emotion and consequence what many nonfiction authors can deliver to the printed page. 

Deanne Burch’s Journey Through Fire and Ice is the true story of several traumatic, excruciating, and spellbinding months she spent living in Alaskan Inuit villages with her husband, the historical ethnographer Ernest “Tiger” Burch in the mid-1960s. At times throughout the narrative, Tiger seemed far more interested in his anthropological research than in the safety and happiness of his wife. Therein lies just some of the emotion, which is far more authentic and therefore more riveting than any similar fictional account.

Deanne’s husband embodied a tenacious confidence and unyielding seriousness of purpose to his work that, despite whatever personal flaws he may have had, comes off as truly remarkable. At the same time, his wife Deanne, who was only 23 years old at the time and an unlikely candidate for living on the edge, hung on, powered through, and put all her trust in hope, devotion, and love. Therein lies some of the consequence, which is far more genuine than anything that can be made up. After all, since it really happened, many readers will be able to draw inspiration from Deanne’s life in a way that would be lacking had it been based on make-believe people doing made-up things. 

No, I really don’t care if a fiction author tries to one-up Ms. Burch. What I do care about is the value of writing as a profession and, in turn, the sanctity of book publishing. As anyone who has followed my reviews is aware, I’ve been known to criticize self-publishing and vanity presses only because too many lesser efforts make it harder for serious writers who 1) have not had a break, 2) who don’t have the money often needed to self-publish, and 3) who just can’t stand it when self-published authors pompously refer to themselves as published authors. 

(By ‘lesser efforts’ I mean books not especially well planned, well written, professionally edited, or convincingly presented. Don’t get me started; it’s a soapbox issue for me, and once I start, I might never shut up.) 

But the more time that passes, the happier I am to come across more self-publishing, vanity, or hybrid houses that appear to treat writing and book production with true earnestness and professionalism. (In other words, they’re not in it just to make a buck.) It’s also exciting to come across new authors who deserve to be published in any way possible simply because they have a story that absolutely needs to be told, regardless of how that is accomplished. 

Authority Publishing seems to be such a house, and Deanne Burch is definitely such an author. 

Although I doubt I’ll ever give myself over to a wholesale unconditional acceptance of vanity and hybrid houses, I must admit that this effort is among the best I’ve seen. From what Burch wrote, to the way it is presented, it is a highly satisfactory piece of work

Does it read flawlessly? Not entirely (although it does appear to have had qualified editing). There are a handful of sentences here and there that could have been smoothed out for better flow and re-envisioned for more literary impact. Is it a completely sustaining chronicle? Not really. It could have benefited greatly from maps, larger photos (and a few more of them), and some historical background of the indigenous people among whom Mr. and Mrs. Burch lived. 

But in the end, there is so much emotion and consequence between the covers that it’s fairly easy to willingly overlook what’s not there. 

It would serve no purpose at all for potential readers if I were to give away any of the details of Tiger and Deanne’s odyssey up north. Suffice it to say that within the diary-like narrative is plenty of hardship, surprises, misery, wonderment, hope, fear, tragedy, friendships, agony, relief, and much, much more.

The tale covers two general themes. The first is what the Burches had to do to survive. (As just one tiny nugget, Deanne found some of her food prep chores to be repellent and almost unbearable.) The second is how Deanne struggled with her own mixed sentiments of accepting the arduous roles of Tiger’s wife, confidante, research assistant, travel companion, caregiver, and often-silenced voice of reason.     

Deanne later became a professional photographer and is now a widow who writes short stories, many of them for children. This memoir is her first adult book. Before his death, Tiger had published several anthropological studies. Journey Through Fire and Ice is meaningful throughout, though it isn’t until page 245 that its true purpose, perhaps subliminally, is reinforced. “Time and time again, the natives have asked why we don’t have any kids,” Deanne writes in Chapter 38, sharing how her new Inuit friends and neighbors said that if she didn’t have a child, she’d be lost. Nobody would remember her, they insisted. 

Well, the Burches did eventually have children (all the more remarkable since Tiger suffered an almost insurmountable injury while in Alaska). But that’s not why those neighborly comments may hit home for many readers, nor is it the reason the couple will indeed be remembered. The Burches and their journey above the Arctic Circle—which not everyone, by the way, would have survived, emotionally, physically, or otherwise—will forever be remembered for another reason: Tiger and Deanne and their remarkable story have been committed forever to the pages of a book, for anyone to read, above or below the Arctic Circle. I don’t really care how the book came to be. I’m just glad it did.