I loved that house. My grandfather died when I was young, and my grandmother moved to town a few years before my return. She graciously agreed to let me live in the farmhouse rent free during my "sabbatical" as I pretentiously called it. There was no air-conditioning, which was absolutely miserable, but I was too stubborn and proud to get a window unit. Did Thoreau have window unit at Walden Pond, damnit!? Sure he lived in the upper, northeast instead of the sweltering armpit that is the Ohio River Valley, but still. While it made the home uninhabitable during the day, the evenings were magical. As the sun set, I'd open all the windows to cool the house and go on the screened-in back porch to read, while the crickets and the frogs did their best to keep me awake. I have come to the age now where I can see how short a time we have to be here. And when I think about it, it can seem strange beyond telling that this particular bunch of us should be here on this little patch of ground in this little patch of time, and I can think of other times and places I might have lived, other kinds of man I might have been. But there is something else. There are moments when the heart is generous, and then it knows that for better or worse our lives are woven together here, with one another and with the place and all the living things.
Sitting on that back, porch I'd read his books and listen to music well into the night, worrying, as many teenagers do, about what I would do and who I would become. I'd like to say I've completely outgrown the immature, selfish thinking of my youth, but I'd be lying if I said I did. However, twenty-some-odd years later, like Jayber, I have now gotten to the age where I know for better or worse my life is woven together here with these people in this place. I hope our little store makes it for the better, and that it might be a place where a new generation can find the timeless words of Wendell Berry for themselves. The way we are, we are members of each other. All of us. Everything. The difference ain't in who is a member and who is not, but in who knows it and who don't."
General / Literary Fiction: 5/10
Si-Fi / Fantasy: 2/5
Poetry & Plays: 2/3
Religion & Philosophy: 2/3
Arts, Culture, and Sports: _/3
Michael Pollan is one of my favorite public intellectual writers. His writing deals less with telling you answers to problems and instead takes you with him on a path of discovery. Pollan makes difficult theories and concepts very accessible, and I have really enjoyed his last two works exploring the mind and self. His latest book, A World Appears reads like a sequel or a continuation of the themes developed in his previous book, How To Change Your Mind (here is his interview with Klein for that book). Both are fascinating.
The Hustler
The Color of Money
The Man who Fell to Earth
The Queen's Gambit
General / Literary Fiction: 5/10
Si-Fi / Fantasy: 1/5
Poetry & Plays: 1/3
Religion & Philosophy: 1/3
Arts, Culture, and Sports: _/3
General / Literary Fiction: 3/10
Si-Fi / Fantasy: _/5 Kentucky: 2/5
Poetry & Plays: 1/3
Religion & Philosophy: 1/3
Arts, Culture, and Sports: _/3 |