Heartwood by Amity Gaige

Summary

Your Next Listen: Heartwood by Amity Gaige
Episode Release Date: April 21, 2025
Produced by Lemonada Media and Simon & Schuster Audio

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Introduction to Heartwood

In this episode of Your Next Listen, host Jackie Danziger introduces "Heartwood", a gripping novel by Amity Gaige. The story delves into the mysterious disappearance of Valerie Gillis, a seasoned hiker known by her trail name, Sparrow, along the Appalachian Trail. Set against the backdrop of Maine's unforgiving wilderness, Heartwood intertwines multiple perspectives to unravel the complexities of survival, personal demons, and the unyielding human spirit.

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Main Characters

• Valerie Gillis (Sparrow): A 42-year-old experienced hiker whose disappearance sparks a frantic search operation.
• Lieutenant Bev: A dedicated state game warden leading the search for Valerie, grappling with her own past and motivations.
• Lena: A 76-year-old bird watcher and retired scientist who becomes an unlikely armchair detective, providing unexpected support.
• Santo: Valerie’s trail brother, offering a poignant insight into her struggles and resilience.
• Reuben: A fellow hiker whose recounting adds depth to the narrative of those traversing the trail.

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Plot Highlights

Valerie's Journey and Disappearance Valerie Gillis embarks on a three-month hike along the Appalachian Trail, facing the physical and psychological challenges of the rugged terrain. Her disappearance near Spalding Mountain shelter triggers a complex search effort led by Lieutenant Bev. As the search unfolds, the narrative shifts between Bev’s relentless investigation, Lena’s analytical support, Santo’s heartfelt recounting, and Valerie’s introspective letters, painting a multifaceted picture of her ordeal.

Search Efforts and Challenges Lieutenant Bev navigates the dense Maine wilderness, contending with limited resources and escalating difficulties as the trail’s northern section proves exceptionally treacherous. The introduction of the Hundred Mile Wilderness, a particularly perilous segment with strict entry requirements, heightens the stakes. Bev’s reflections highlight the perilous nature of modern hiking and the psychological toll on both those lost and the rescuers.

Personal Struggles and Resilience Through Valerie’s letters, listeners gain intimate access to her emotional landscape—her battles with anxiety, the weight of expectations, and moments of profound clarity amidst despair. Santo’s interviews reveal the deep bonds formed on the trail and the silent support systems that sustain hikers through their darkest hours.

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Notable Quotes and Excerpts

1. Jackie Danziger on Cultural Fascination:

   • "Between cult TV hit Yellowjackets and the recent New York Times bestseller the God of the Woods, it seems we as a culture have a fascination with the terrifying prospect of finding yourself far from civilization."
     [00:43]

2. Louise Glück on Hope and Resilience:

   • "A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind. It has left in its wake a strange lucidity. How privileged you are to still be passionately clinging to what you love."
     [02:23]

3. Valerie’s Letter to Her Mother:

   • "Dear Mother, you used to call me Sparrow. Why sparrow? Well, because the woods are full of sparrows and you loved everything outdoors."
     [02:48]

4. Lieutenant Bev on the Perils of Being Lost:

   • "The loss of mental control is more dangerous than the lack of food or water. Panic crowds out common sense."
     [05:52]

5. Valerie on the Transformation Through the Trail:

   • "The trail transformed me. And I can't say even now that I regret it after all that I've undergone, all that has been done to me."
     [17:44]

6. Reuben’s Reflection on Hiker Diversity:

   • "These skinny people, I call them gazelles... But you know, a lot of those people are down bad on the inside."
     [21:38]

7. Valerie’s Final Letter:

   • "Dear mom, in this small tent in these huge woods. It's you, I imagine, on the other end of this letter."
     [23:55]

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Themes and Insights

Survival and Nature’s Indifference:
Heartwood poignantly explores the thin line between survival and surrender in the face of nature’s relentless challenges. Valerie’s journey symbolizes the internal and external battles hikers face, emphasizing that the greatest threats often lie within.

Mental Health and Personal Trauma:
The narrative delves deep into the characters' psychological states, particularly Valerie’s struggles with anxiety and her quest for meaning. Lieutenant Bev’s own background adds layers to the story, showcasing how personal histories shape responses to crisis.

Community and Isolation:
The search for Valerie highlights the strength and fragility of community bonds. Lena’s unexpected involvement underscores how disparate lives can converge in moments of shared purpose, while the isolation of the wilderness mirrors Valerie’s internal solitude.

Resilience and Transformation:
Valerie’s letters reveal a transformation wrought by hardship, portraying the trail not just as a physical journey but a profound personal metamorphosis. Her resilience serves as a testament to the human spirit’s capacity to endure and evolve.

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Conclusion

Heartwood by Amity Gaige offers a compelling exploration of human endurance against the backdrop of nature’s vast and unforgiving wilderness. Through its richly developed characters and intertwining narratives, the audiobook excerpt presented in this episode provides listeners with an immersive experience into Valerie Gillis’s harrowing journey. The blend of heartfelt letters, intense search efforts, and personal reflections invites listeners to ponder the intricate dance between survival, mental fortitude, and the transformative power of the great outdoors.

For those intrigued by tales of suspense, personal struggle, and the relentless pursuit of understanding, Heartwood is poised to be a captivating addition to your audiobook collection.

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Discover more about "Heartwood" and other featured titles at YourNextListen.com. Happy listening!

Transcript

[Dylan Mulvaney]

Hi, is this an okay time? It's your girl, Dylan Mulvaney and I am inviting you to my weekly cocktail party and my brand new podcast, the Dylan Hour, brought to you by Lemonada Media. Life is stressful and there is so much darkness in the world. I think we could all use a little bit of trans joy. So join me every week as I interview some of my favorite A list, celebrity friends and gurus, and of course the dolls. While we sip and split, spill the scalding hot tea. So put your worries aside and join me at the Dylan Hour. You can listen on Apple, YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. Love ya.

[Lieutenant Bev]

Lemonade.

[Jackie Danziger]

Being Lost in the Wilderness so hot right now. Between cult TV hit Yellowjackets and the recent New York Times bestseller the God of the woods by Liz Moore, it seems we as a culture have a fascination at the moment with the terrifying prospect of finding yourself far from civilization, unsure of where to go next, and possibly with something nefarious going on in the creepy dark forest. Rather than a teenage girl lost in the woods, this book sets out to locate 42 year old Valerie Gillis, also known by the trail name Sparrow, an experienced Appalachian Trail hiker who has vanished within 200 miles of her final destination. Lt. Bev, a state game warden in Maine, is leading the search for Valerie and receiving unexpected support From Lena, a 76 year old bird watcher who becomes an armchair detective following the search. As the search progresses, we learn more about each of these women. Beverly spent her life constantly seeking approval from her mother, who considered her career unfeminine. Despite Bev's obvious passion for the woods and her work, Lena, a retired scientist with a penchant for chatting on Reddit, is both the most funny and most touching character in the book. By turns. Valerie herself remains a mystery in many ways, along with what has become of her, but we do get intriguing glimpses into her marriage, her relationship with her own mother, and the relationship she built with several fellow hikers along the trail. The audiobook is narrated by several performers switching back and forth as the book shifts perspective between Lt. Bev Lena and the letters and diary entries from Valerie. We're excited to share a preview of this book with you today, but fair warning, it is going to be hard to stop without knowing what happens next.

[Louise Glück]

A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind. It has left in its wake a strange lucidity. How privileged you are to still be passionately clinging to what you love. The forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. Louise Glick October.

[Valerie Gillis]

Dear Mother, you used to call me Sparrow. Why sparrow? Well, because the woods are full of sparrows and you loved everything outdoors. Songbirds, wildflowers, wind. You could read the weather like a poem. But why did I remind you of a sparrow and not another songbird? I never thought to ask. With their white cheeks and dingy underparts, plain brown sparrows are everywhere. They beg at outdoor tables and hop under city benches. They nest in chimneys and rafters and even tailpipes. Sparrows are not much to look at, but they're smart, canny, tiny, feathered battle axes. Sparrows are survivors. I like to think that's what you meant. Back then. I followed you as if you were a fixed star. Fumbling against your leg, mouthing a bit of your skirt. I kept you close. Better to go wherever you went. I'd straggle after you, to the garden and right back inside. Up the stairs and back down. Sometimes in your lap, I would press my hand against your chest so that I could feel the center of you. Your heart would, your innermost substance, like the core of a tree that keeps it standing. When I couldn't see you, I listened for you. Your puttering was the music of my life. An equivocal sigh, the crack of a knuckle, a stifled shit, an avalanche of baking sheets. When I grew taller, I stood beside you in the kitchen, the apron strings tied three times around my middle. You were magical. You had machines for every task. A tool that peeled apples, an apparatus for scraping the fragrant part of the lemon peel, but not the bitter pith. A wand of turned wood used for withdrawing honey from a jar. I was four or five when I began to sense the truth of my position, which was that we couldn't go on like this forever. That, in fact, we were never meant to. I'd have to leave our country of two. I couldn't bear this news. I didn't want to grow up. Naturally, I had no choice. I grew up anyway. Kindergarten, grade school, high school. I survived the ordeal. I liked the hustle of adult life. In fact, the changing faces, the possibilities, the open road, and even the solitude spitting in the eye of my numerous anxieties. I became a nurse. Eventually I understood that motherhood, as the child imagines it, is unperformable. No woman is a star. No woman is a God or a tree or a magician. But for a while, in your arms, the universe was the right size, and I knew where I was.

[Lieutenant Bev]

Lieutenant Bev. Any woodsman who says he's never been lost in the woods is a Liar. It's inevitable. Up here in the north woods, everybody goes woods queer now and again. That's because we spend so much time outdoors, ice fishing, hunting. Kids grow up following their parents into the backcountry where they learn the basics of outdoor survival. How to build a camp, how to dead reckon by the sun. Up here, we tend to think of being lost as something you can be good at. I've been in the business of finding lost people in the woods for 30 years. I know how hard it is to keep a clear head when lost. The disorientation can be shattering. A lost person is like the believer who is told there is no God. After that, everything seems like a lie. But loss of mental control is more dangerous than the lack of food or water. Panic crowds out common sense. It makes the lost person crave a quick, easy solution. Imagine you're her Valerie Gillis. You have been hiking for a long time. Three months. You're no young lass, though. You're tougher than you thought you were. Like a lot of people, you'd always wanted to hike the legendary Appalachian Trail. Since taking the plunge, you have hiked through mud, water, pain and heat. Maine is even harder than you heard it would be. One difference is the density of the woods. Walls of vegetation hem you in on both sides. In the past, when the trail got hilly and punishing, you stared at your boots, willing yourself forward one step at a time. But now you raise your head. You pause. Somehow, for some reason, you step off the path. Maybe you've seen something, a rare bird or flower. Or maybe you just need to pee and want some privacy. Hikers are supposed to chug 200 paces away from the trail before they urinate. And you're a polite person. Or you're spooked by a sound in the woods, voices approaching. You step off the path and fight your way through the head high saplings and sticky bushes. You look up at the sky, which is barely visible through the dense, netted canopy. Time passes. Rested, relieved, you look for the path. 10 steps, 20. Nothing. But the path was right there. You don't backtrack. Lost people seldom do. Rather, you push on farther because you are dead certain this is the direction you came from. Every direction you turn, the view is identical. A claustrophobic wall of foliage and shrubbery. You wade forward into the mass of vegetation. You begin to run. Branches beat your head. Buckthorn snares your feet. Brambles tear your skin. You're desperate to get a view, to reorient, to understand. We frequently find lost people looking very beat up. They've been lanced by thorns and snags. Their clothes are filthy and ripped or even torn off from falling down or crawling or stepping into dangers they would have otherwise seen. That's what the terror of being lost makes people do. By the time they get up here. Northbound Appalachian Trail hikers have trod 1900 miles. The class of hikers that starts as a mob down in Georgia really thins out by the end of the season. The beleaguered few who make it up here are an ugly bunch. They are very close to their goal, but it seems to me there's something about the proximity to the finish that makes them lose focus. They tend to wander off, to break down, physically or mentally. That I understand. Dreams burn a wildfire in a body. It's worth it. But there's no coda this year seems worse than normal. The AT was officially closed for through hiking for the first time in history when the pandemic hit in 2020. I question the readiness of some of the folks out here this season. You can't get lost on the at, they all say. But here at the Maine Warden Service, we get several dozen calls for lost thru hikers every season. Maine is the worst place on the AT to get lost. It's a whole new kind of hiking, more remote than anything that's come before. Not much farther north than where Valerie Gillis was last seen lies the Hundred Mile Wilderness. At the trailhead looms a sign that reads verbatim, do not attempt this section unless you have a minimum of 10 days supplies and are fully equipped. This is the longest wilderness section of the entire at, and its difficulty should not be underestimated. Seems appropriate that the architects of the Appalachian Trail put the northern terminus on the other side of these woods. As the hikers say, no main, no gain to search is to guess if the location of the lost person is known. That's rescue, not a search. A lost person's search begins with a couple of knowns and a whole busload of conjecture. If that sounds hard, it is. I always bear in mind that a century ago, the work I do was conducted with no gps, no CB radio, no sidearm, just a couple of guys in beaver skins tramping through the snow. Here's what we know. On the morning of Monday, July 25, Valerie Gillis awoke early at Poplar Ridge shelter, said goodbye to two female southbound hikers with whom she'd bonded the night before, and continued her journey north. She had a cell phone and appropriate gear and supplies, and was in a fine mood. There's no cell service on that stretch of trail, but her husband was set to pick her up for resupply at a trailhead the following day. She was almost done with the northern portion of her hike. She smiled for a snapshot just as she turned to leave. Then she vanished. The husband waited a day to report Valerie lost. It was common for Valerie to be waylaid at a meetup, so he didn't panic on Tuesday. He panicked on Wednesday. That evening we send a crew of wardens out to the shelters on foot in the hope that we run into Valerie ourselves. As often happens on a hasty search, overdue hikers are frequently found trailside, dehydrated or with a broken ankle. We come up empty. All we get on Wednesday is a lead from a teenaged hiker who runs into a warden in a parking lot 30 miles to the north. He says he saw a middle aged woman sitting on a rock, looking played out near Spalding Mountain shelter the day before. Lacking anything stronger, I designate this as our point last scene we find the two southbound women who saw her leave Poplar Ridge shelter. As they are provisioning in town. They give us the photo. Perfect. When I get home, I settle at my kitchen table under a cone of light to study my maps of the search area. Only 8 miles stretch between Poplar Ridge shelter and the next shelter, North Spalding Mountain, but because there is no point of exit between the two shelters, the search area broadens to thousands of acres of conifers, fallen trees, rocks, streams and hobble bush. Numerous unnamed ridges rise and fall like waves with a short fetch. There are no settlements to speak of in any direction for many miles. It's long past midnight by the time I put away my area maps. I spread my old Appalachian Trail map on the table. The trail is named for the mountains that span the entire eastern coast of this country, north of the Gulf Coastal Plain all the way to Canada. And through this range wends one long, continuous foot worn path. Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine. The trail does not follow the low ground of valleys, nor does it circumvent obstacles. Instead, it goes tramping over countless summits, straight across streams. It marches into towns and occasionally humps down highways. The trail moves like a story. Sometimes it makes sense and sometimes it doesn't. The trail wanders like a vagabond here it veers toward the impractical there, toward opportunity. How much thought must have been put into its root and how much agreement Southerners and northerners. Clearing a 14 state corridor to make way for a humble footpath, I stare at the map for a long, long time. Valerie's whereabouts are somewhere right in front of me. As soon as I hear the first bird song, I pack a bag and get in my truck.

[Megan]

Hi, I'm Megan and I've got a new podcast I think you're going to love. It's called Confessions of a Female Founder, a show where I chat with female entrepreneurs and friends about the sleepless nights, the lessons learned, and the laser focus that got them to where they are today. And through it all, I'm building a business of my own and getting all sorts of practical advice along the way that I'm so excited to share with you. Confessions of a Female Founder is out now. Listen wherever you get your podcast.

[Louise Glück]

Search for Valerie Gillis Thursday, July 28, 2020 Two main game wardens are seeking information concerning missing 42 year old at hiker Valerie Gillis who uses the trail name Sparrow from the hikers using the following trail strider, another Lisa, Leviticus, Blister and Santo. Warden investigators would like to speak with the hikers listed above to determine Valerie's point. Last seen on the Appalachian Trail. Warden investigators are seeking to verify if anyone stayed at the Spaulding Mountain Shelter with Valerie on the night of Monday, July 25th or Tuesday, July 26th, or if any southbound hikers can ID Valerie from this photo. Valerie Gillis started her at Flip flop hike on April 21st in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. If any hikers not listed here have information about her current whereabouts, contact the tip line at 1-800-595-8872. The Warden Service also wants to inform bear baiters in the search area to be on the lookout for Ms. Gillis.

[Valerie Gillis]

Dear mom, the first thing I should say is that you were right. You didn't want me to hike the Appalachian Trail. Mothers have a sixth sense. Their love is a cult. You argued that I'd be miserable. Only 1/4 of Appalachian Trail through hikers achieved their goal. What if I made it nearly to the end? You said presciently, and something unexpected happened, like a turned ankle or a bad case of giardia and I had to quit anyway. Thousands of people section hike the trail, completing a couple hundred miles every summer. Why not me? Why not? Because hiking the Appalachian Trail isn't a reasonable thing to do. Anyone who wants to walk 2,000 miles in a row does it because they find beauty in the unreasonable. All that misery. That's the point. The high probability of failure. That's motivation. You had a bad feeling, you said. And you were right. You were right as usual. People have romantic notions about hiking the Appalachian Trail. I had romantic notions about hiking the Appalachian Trail. The truth is the journey involves a lot of moisture, always being wet, mostly in the form of sweat, damp, rank T shirts, but also rain. In June, it rained on us for seven days straight. Rain for a day or two is no problem. Almost a novelty. But rain for seven days. Strange rashes grow in the armpits and the buttocks. The feet become pruned and cadaver, like in boots. Nothing dries. You are trapped in crowded shelters with other wet and miserable beings. Another form of moisture is tears. Sometimes out on the trail, I'd get so frustrated and tired I'd just sit down and cry. My heels were cracked, my knees throbbed, especially on the downhills. Who was I kidding? Those were 42 year old knees. They weren't supposed to be flexed for seven or eight hours straight. All while carrying a heavy load. Since I'm small, my packs looked unusually large and burdensome. People laughed at it even after I pulled everything non essential out. Goodbye paperback and personal locator beacon. Goodbye compass. My trail brother, Santo, was used to my cathartic crying jags. He'd just settle down and have a snack or look around. After I wound down, he'd come and offer me his hand and pull me back up, as huge as I am small. Come on girl, he'd say. I'd say, I'm trying. Do or do not, he'd say in his best Yoda voice, there is no try. But every time I was on the verge of quitting, every time I made peace with the decision to quit, to say goodbye to my tramily and wish them well and walk away and find some feather bed and be done with it. I'd reach the next shelter just as the woods were growing rosy with dusk. And somebody on the same journey would be building a campfire, the evening air full of fireflies and cricket song. And I would realize once again that the act of walking while carrying the weight of my pack had wrung all the sadness out of me. The sadness for myself and for the world. And in that moment I was totally without stress, confusion or agitation. And that I was perfectly, blamelessly whole. The trail transformed me. And I can't say even now that I regret it after all that I've undergone, all that has been done to me.

[Lieutenant Bev]

Santo Live interview Bronx, NY 730 22. Recorded by Warden Cody Willette.

[Reuben]

The first time I went hiking. I didn't even know what to bring. I knew I needed something to drink. I brought a liter of Sprite. As soon as I started walking uphill, I thought I was gonna die. I was swearing at myself, you fat piece of shit. But you know, I'd driven all the way to the trailhead almost an hour out of the city. Plus the cost of gas. I said to myself, just make it to that spot ahead, Reuben. That tree. And I made it to that spot okay. Now make it up to that spot, that rock. That's how I got uphill. Fast forward to me deciding to hike the at Me got a used tent, check used hiking poles, camp stove, sleeping mat. But it turns out there's no hiking clothes for someone of my size. I bought two pairs of big and tall golf shorts. People wonder why I hike in golf shorts and polo shirts. This is my pop's polo shirt. Dry fit is for real. They do not make hiking shorts for fat people. They're like, can we all agree we do not want to see fat people in shorts? I see fat girls on the trail sometimes. I am like, sister, fat girl, hello, I see you. We share a wink. It's okay with me if you use the word fat. These skinny people, I call them gazelles. The gazelles just scamper up the mountainsides and disappear over the next horizon. But you know, a lot of those people are down bad on the inside. They bagged the Appalachian Trail, they bagged the Pacific Crest Trail. They can't stop because there are so many mountains to crush. I feel bad for them. You get my 260 pound ass to a campsite, I'mma sit down. Sparrow was the same. Just walking, tramping, watching some birds, thinking about life, waiting to hear a good story. She is what my moms, who is a dreamer herself, would call a poet's soul. Wherever Sparrow was, that's where she was. You know what I mean? Sorry, Sorry. Give me a minute. What the fuck happened to her? Somebody hurt her.

[Valerie Gillis]

Dear mom, in this small tent in these huge woods. It's you, I imagine, on the other end of this letter. I write to pass time. I write to keep my sanity. No, I write because it's all I have. A notebook, two pens. No more food. If things don't work out in my favor, at least I will leave a record. I'm writing love letters. I guess this one is for you.

[Jackie Danziger]

Ready to hear the rest of the story? Visit YourNextListen.com Copyright 2025 by Amity Gage Audio excerpt courtesy of Simon and Schuster Audio. From the audiobook Heartwood, a novel by Amity Gage, read by Justine Loop, Alma Cuervo, Rebecca Lohman, Ali Andre Ali, Carrie Height, and Helen Lazer. Published by Simon and Schuster Audio, a division of Simon and Schuster, Inc. Used with permission from from Simon and Schuster, Inc. Your next listen is a production of Lemonada Media and Simon and Schuster Audio. I'm your host Jackie Danziger. I produce a series with Lizzie Breyer Bowman. Isara Acevez is our associate producer. Bobby Woody is our audio engineer. Music by APM Executive producers are Jessica Cordova Kramer and Stephanie Whittles Wax. Production support from Lara Blackman, Tom Spain, Sarah Lieberman and Lauren Pierce. Help others find our show by leaving us a rating and writing a review. Thanks for listening. See you next time.

[Megan]

Hi, I'm Megan and I've got a new podcast I think you're going to love. It's called Confessions of a Female Founder, a show where I chat with female entrepreneurs and friends about the sleepless nights, the lessons learned, and the laser focus that got them to where they are today. And through it all, I'm building a business of my own and getting all sorts of practical advice along the way that I'm so excited to share with you. Confessions of a Female Founder is out now. Hear new episodes each week ad free on Amazon Music. You can also ask Alexa Alexa, play Confessions of a Female Founder with Megan on Amazon Music and she will.

[Lieutenant Bev]

Does.

[Liz Craft]

Your office have an evil donut bringer? Do you have a personal canary in a coal mine? Are you guilty of over apologizing? I'm Liz Craft. And I'm Sarah Fain. We're television writers and showrunners and the hosts of Happier in Hollywood, a podcast where we share all the juicy details of our career in television and offer tips and strategies that will help you and us have an even more successful, satisfying and fun career. Whether you're in Hollywood, Dollywood, or somewhere in between. Check out Happier in Hollywood every Thursday from Lemonada Media.