There can’t be many books from the point of view of a river, and even less really good ones. So big in scope, it magically blends the river with the pThere can’t be many books from the point of view of a river, and even less really good ones. So big in scope, it magically blends the river with the people who’ve lived and died on it, creating a grand, swirling tapestry of torrents and stillness that encompasses all from the tiny intentions of birth to the majestic swells of the ancient open sea that swamp into everywhere, and all that lies in between....more
These poems are addictive, so delicious on the tongue I just can’t help but read another one. And another one. I love the way they the taste of the woThese poems are addictive, so delicious on the tongue I just can’t help but read another one. And another one. I love the way they the taste of the world, the vividness with which they come to life. And those particular tastes they bring forth� images, impressions, collected through a mind that collects them like a hungry magpie, filling out it’s nest on the page for your brain to rest in....more
I loved this beautiful book. It was like reading a book I'd been long waiting for, but didn't know I had been. A sprawling, growing book about a sprawI loved this beautiful book. It was like reading a book I'd been long waiting for, but didn't know I had been. A sprawling, growing book about a sprawling, growing house and those who live in it. Their stories, miniatures of a whole, wound together, all enthralled in some way by the magic of the woods and the world around it, timeless, yet slowly being lost as time moves onwards. Capturing the not-quite-sureness of whether there is some kind of magic and ghosts at work behind the wonder of what we're presented with....more
I don't really know what to make of this book. I liked bits of it, and it was enough to keep me going, but it wasn't the sumptuous feast it wanted to I don't really know what to make of this book. I liked bits of it, and it was enough to keep me going, but it wasn't the sumptuous feast it wanted to be. To be true, it felt more like Margarine than Butter....more
A true genius, without doubt. A genius of compassion. How someone can be so dedicated to enabling spiritual, emotional, personal growth in other peoplA true genius, without doubt. A genius of compassion. How someone can be so dedicated to enabling spiritual, emotional, personal growth in other people, and to be so good at it, it leaves me in awe. Whether it’s through some innate or ability, or his whittling his own self towards it over a lifetime of hard work, to the point where the two become indistinguishable, it makes me realise that it is worth having heroes. A hero of self-acceptance....more
A beautiful little punch of a book. It sings a transformative kindness. The kind that can change the world, and isn't disrupted by it's own first failA beautiful little punch of a book. It sings a transformative kindness. The kind that can change the world, and isn't disrupted by it's own first failed attempts....more
There were some congealing moments of the english pastoral beauty I was looking for, but mostly I feel he was too caught up in dismantling and lookingThere were some congealing moments of the english pastoral beauty I was looking for, but mostly I feel he was too caught up in dismantling and looking at the words and lost sight of what was being built with them.
Though I did love the foray into how the immigrant experience meets the traditions of an english summer....more
This is a good book, no doubt, but after all I'd heard about it, I expected... more. It felt like nature writing, with tinges of mysticality poking thThis is a good book, no doubt, but after all I'd heard about it, I expected... more. It felt like nature writing, with tinges of mysticality poking through. Heavy on the observations and not on the personal. I wanted to know more about the woman who sleeps out on the open mountain, not so much about the eagles she sees and clumps of heather she walks barefoot across.
It felt like going on a guided tour and being more bewitched by the guide than what she's guiding you to, and yet she insists on talking about the mountain than about her wild self....more
From the master of mythologising the peculiarities of his own existence. Making his own here and now seem eternal. Everything i hoped for: Metaphors lFrom the master of mythologising the peculiarities of his own existence. Making his own here and now seem eternal. Everything i hoped for: Metaphors like a sweet juice extracted from life and it’s citizens. Characters that dreamily sit above the people that inspired them, like their own daydreams of who they are in the world. A vivid tapestry of how he’s sees the world and the things it contains. A kaleidoscope of living trinkets that populate an inner world preserved, interacting forever within it, a town of invented curiosities that sadly outlives the man who invented them....more
I didn't realise this was a memoir, so reading it I was thinking "wow, what an incredibly rich and detailed character she's brought to life, and what I didn't realise this was a memoir, so reading it I was thinking "wow, what an incredibly rich and detailed character she's brought to life, and what a devastating sadness to have him die and leave the narrator's life", and then to find out he was a real man, and her actual husband... well, it shows how she was so intimately able to portray him!
A sad and beautiful book, that feels like a catharsis, making a sculpture of him out of words, for one last vivid memory. It shows how much a person can live on through their memories in another. The pain of that, but also the beauty. The gift of being alive on earth in the intimate company of others. To share your years with them.
And too, for her to share with us a glimpse in to the life processes of man who sounded so full of personality and so dedicated to finding joy and beauty in life, in portraying that through his art, sharing it in that art, and in daily life as he lived it. So well encapsulated in one of his favourite lines:
"O Beauty, you are the light of the world!"...more
A big swirling dream of a book. An autobiography of a nation and a person. To come across the author forming their ideas for the book, talking about tA big swirling dream of a book. An autobiography of a nation and a person. To come across the author forming their ideas for the book, talking about their intention with the book, and over the past however many pages you realise how well they achieved what they set out to do: “To save something from the time where we will never be again.�.
To capture 60 years of a nation’s collective experience though the memory of one person living it. A self, transcended, a population distilled, and us getting to witness where they meet. History only exists where there are people together to experience it. A person’s history is what it is through living in that country at that time. A time in a country made up of millions of these people....more
What a strange and sad, yet intensely beautiful book. It offers glimpses into the life of a family over the span of 50 years, and seems both so concerWhat a strange and sad, yet intensely beautiful book. It offers glimpses into the life of a family over the span of 50 years, and seems both so concerned with what has been lost to time and the beauty that pokes through in these moments.
Nature sits quietly, humming and swirling in the background between scenes, between conversations, before making some heart-rending flourish when there’s a break in the action. Time too, is a character all of it’s own, silently going about it’s business, changing all that exists. The human characters in the book are so aware of what they’ve lost to time, yet they only seize upon what they yearn for� that connection and meaning� when it’s already started slipping out their hands. But when they’re in these moments, their hearts and minds seem to wander, seeking something else.
I too, would drift off in the sections of speech, but be utterly enamoured by the descriptive passages between. Fleeting moments where the beauty of life crystallises and you cherish the harmony between the experience and the appreciation of it.
Blake turned himself into the Ancient Bard he envisioned himself as, mythologising himself as this prophet of the two sides of humanity he saw. So lovBlake turned himself into the Ancient Bard he envisioned himself as, mythologising himself as this prophet of the two sides of humanity he saw. So lovingly describing the innocence and sweet natural state of humans that is inevitably corrupted by their experience on Earth with other people. He sings visions that come from somewhere beyond himself, and the way he communicates them, preserved in this edition on florid etching plates, is something special and unique that lifts the verses above the simplicity with which I might otherwise see rhymes so old....more
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