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
Beautiful in a sparse way, writing about her own father in such a detached way it was like a craftsman inspecting a fine bit of wooden furniture, seeiBeautiful in a sparse way, writing about her own father in such a detached way it was like a craftsman inspecting a fine bit of wooden furniture, seeing the intricacy and completeness of it in a way that maybe wouldn't be possible if clouded by emotion. A magical thing to be able to read, a portrait of a man by someone who knows him so well, his backstory, his life, the things that made him who he is, yet portrayed in this plain and objective manner that lets you see him as honestly as if he were before your very eyes, but with his whole life right there visible in front of you as well....more
A well-written and fascinating look at what we can achieve with our bodies (namely in endurance sports) and how big a part the brain has to play when A well-written and fascinating look at what we can achieve with our bodies (namely in endurance sports) and how big a part the brain has to play when it comes to doing that. It’s a testament to the wonder of the brain and body that there’s all this research into understanding how they work, and yet the findings so often reveal how it is a fabulous and inscrutable thing that demands marvelling rather than offering much in the way of concrete understanding.
I love running for it’s part to play in that. We can understand the biomechanics, oxygen uptake in our blood, running economy, glycogen storage, yet there’s always some mysterious magic in it to sweep us away....more
Three taut books that each pierce the author's mind and expose how an event has shaped her life. An abortion, a lifelong (for one of them) friendship,Three taut books that each pierce the author's mind and expose how an event has shaped her life. An abortion, a lifelong (for one of them) friendship, and a relationship. Each written about with such clarity, an honesty that almost shocks you, but leaves you grateful for being allowed a look in to the life of another.
The third, 'Swimming', I especially enjoyed, the way it weaved a physical and philosophical understanding of the act of swimming into the course of this short-lived relationship, to feel like she was left with something after the relationship had gone from her life. And we were left with something too, this book. Something she touches on as well, adding to the impression she gives by writing these auto-biographical stories in such a 'novel-ly' way, blurring the line between life and story....more
I never would have guessed a novel about running could be this good, in fact I only started reading it becasue I thought it was a biography, then founI never would have guessed a novel about running could be this good, in fact I only started reading it becasue I thought it was a biography, then found out it was fiction when I went to look up who one of the runners was.
The way he writes about the appeal of being out there on the trails, chasing something that only exists when you're out there chasing it. Some strange mix of chasing happiness, or satisfaction, and running away from whatever demons are lurking in the corners of your being, and how when you're running it somehow lines up and suspends you between the two.
How he captures an experience that 99.999% will never be able to, that of being an olympic level runner, yet he captures it vividly enough that you feel like you do understand the experience. I mean, reading the climactic race, I could actually feel my heart rate rising towards a running level.
He beautifully describes the bittersweet beauty of chasing your peak physical ability, and how tied into the pursuit of that is that one day you'll inevitably lose it. How you can be not even sure why you're doing this relentless, difficult thing, other than the feeling of it is utterly irresistable and tied into your very being....more
Like climbing into someone's own heart and watching a relationship play out from within there.Like climbing into someone's own heart and watching a relationship play out from within there....more
A book by someone so clearly in love with trees, with all their forms, in love with the effect they have on him, willing to explore the way they’ve scA book by someone so clearly in love with trees, with all their forms, in love with the effect they have on him, willing to explore the way they’ve sculpted his life. Willing to look at them deeply and at length, to give them the time to tell their secrets.
Especially so the cycle about Buile Suibhne, that, to me, seemed to be about the solace you can find in trees, how madness and sadness lose their sharp definiteness in such company.
So often they seem to hover and settle on the cusp of love and loss, between understanding and total wonderment, knowing that is where life exists too. Life speaks to itself in a language we don’t understand.
He turns the woods into a mystical talisman of life itself, speaking to itself in a language we can’t understand. So rich with things we cannot know...more
When I first read Sharon Olds, I was scared away by the horror of the subjects she conjured up so clearly with her vivid poetic voice. But like life iWhen I first read Sharon Olds, I was scared away by the horror of the subjects she conjured up so clearly with her vivid poetic voice. But like life itself, she is capable of both such horror and such beauty, and thankfully this collection is on the kinder side.
They are poems that seem so big and so little at the same time. They swell, vast, with the scope of all the things that take her attention, and yet they are little things that could pass in insignificance if her eye weren’t so magical.
Big things like chasmic life events become small, and small things, minor details in the story become massive, big enough to live on the horizon, like someone’s frown become a rainbow. They swell to giant totems of the moment they are a part of, representing them in a way more profound than the thing itself.
And the poems that close out the book, the ‘elegy� poems, they feel like elegies for life and love itself, all wrapped up in the last heart of a human being. Those final heartbeats like last words that celebrate the whole life it lived, before being lowered down silent, a red box into the earth’s chest....more
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