The word mercury conjures many images--the messenger god, the planet that rules over communication, the liquid metal that defies attempts to be held--images that form the backbone of Walking to Mercury, a story chronicling the early life of Maya Greenwood. Readers familiar with Starhawk's fiction may remember Maya as the 21st-century rebel leader who was introduced in The Fifth Sacred Thing . In Walking to Mercury, a younger Maya treks through Nepal carrying the ashes of her mother on her back as she searches for a reunion with her sister. Along the way, she finds messages (through the pages of her best friend Johanna's diary, in letters from her former lover Rio, and in notes from her elusive sister) that raise spiritual mountains rivaling the peaks of the Himalayas. She struggles with her past and hopes to find out why the power that once pounded through her like a drumbeat has fallen silent. However, like the metal mercury, the answer to her troubles continually slips through her fingers. While eco-feminism plays a supporting role, the star of Walking to Mercury is everything that Starhawk has to tell us about being human. As Maya discovers, no matter how independent one is, one's life is inextricably entangled with the lives of others--parents, siblings, friends, lovers, and even strangers who nudge us in one direction or another (sometimes imperceptibly) despite our best attempts at isolation. Starhawk permeates every step of Maya's journey with emotion, and pulls no punches, hitting us with everything from grief to ecstasy. There is no padding to separate us from the story, but Walking to Mercury is no stark, utilitarian piece of minimalist fiction. This is life, with all its bitterness and all its magic. --Brian Patterson