by Kathleen Dean Moore ‧ RELEASE DATE: Sept. 26, 1995
Splendid short riverside rustications in a first collection from Moore (Philosophy/ Oregon State Univ.). These are ``river essays because I began to write each one alongside a stream or floating down a river, and so they may still carry the smell of willows and rainbow trout,'' explains Moore. Indeed they do, all 20 of these little river songs (the author might call them essays, but that's too dry a word). For each of the waterways she visits, Moore provides a bite of history (both geologic and social) and an appreciation of its creatures and its flowerage; she discloses just why she and her family happened to be on the water and what they did there. Each river gives her pause for reflection, conjures something from her imagination, an idea that she then turns and fashions in an admirably fresh, agile way. While noodling about on the banks of the Little Stoney River, she has her eye out for ticks, but her mind is busy trying to unravel the knotty notion of time: ``Einstein was right: time can't be a constant. Its speed depends on where you are and the people you are with.'' Or while heading to the John Day River, enjoying the colorfully striped volcanic landscape and musing on the sorry fate of the river's pioneer namesake, she can't help but ponder the natural equilibrium of joy and pain: ``Maybe our joy is the cosmic complement of a doomed rhinoceros stampeding away from a suffocating sea-blue cloud of ash.'' A visit to the Smohalla River occasions a thought or two on housekeeping in the wild: ``Domesticity is the central pleasure of the wilderness experience,'' and she goes on to explain nimbly and whimsically exactly why such is the case. Moore's collection sparkles as much as one of her sun-dappled streams.
Pub Date: Sept. 26, 1995
ISBN: 1-55821-408-9
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Lyons Press
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 1995
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by Lulu Miller illustrated by Kate Samworth ‧ RELEASE DATE: April 14, 2020
A quirky wonder of a book.
A Peabody Award–winning NPR science reporter chronicles the life of a turn-of-the-century scientist and how her quest led to significant revelations about the meaning of order, chaos, and her own existence.
Miller began doing research on David Starr Jordan (1851-1931) to understand how he had managed to carry on after the 1906 San Francisco earthquake destroyed his work. A taxonomist who is credited with discovering “a full fifth of fish known to man in his day,” Jordan had amassed an unparalleled collection of ichthyological specimens. Gathering up all the fish he could save, Jordan sewed the nameplates that had been on the destroyed jars directly onto the fish. His perseverance intrigued the author, who also discusses the struggles she underwent after her affair with a woman ended a heterosexual relationship. Born into an upstate New York farm family, Jordan attended Cornell and then became an itinerant scholar and field researcher until he landed at Indiana University, where his first ichthyological collection was destroyed by lightning. In between this catastrophe and others involving family members’ deaths, he reconstructed his collection. Later, he was appointed as the founding president of Stanford, where he evolved into a Machiavellian figure who trampled on colleagues and sang the praises of eugenics. Miller concludes that Jordan displayed the characteristics of someone who relied on “positive illusions” to rebound from disaster and that his stand on eugenics came from a belief in “a divine hierarchy from bacteria to humans that point[ed]…toward better.” Considering recent research that negates biological hierarchies, the author then suggests that Jordan’s beloved taxonomic category—fish—does not exist. Part biography, part science report, and part meditation on how the chaos that caused Miller’s existential misery could also bring self-acceptance and a loving wife, this unique book is an ingenious celebration of diversity and the mysterious order that underlies all existence.
A quirky wonder of a book.Pub Date: April 14, 2020
ISBN: 978-1-5011-6027-1
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Review Posted Online: Jan. 1, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2020
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by Lulu Miller ; illustrated by Hui Skipp
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by Annie Dillard ‧ RELEASE DATE: March 13, 1974
This is our life, these are our lighted seasons, and then we die. . . . In the meantime, in between time, we can see. . . we can work at making sense of (what) we see. . . to discover where we so incontrovertibly are. It's common sense; when you-move in, you try to learn the neighborhood." Dillard's "neighborhood" is hilly Virginia country where she lived alone, but essentially it is all those "shreds of creation" with which every human is surrounded, which she is trying to learn, to know — from finite variations to infinite possibilities of being and meaning. A tall order and Dillard doesn't quite fill it. She is too impatient to get about the soul's adventures to stay long with an egg-laying grasshopper, or other bits of flora and fauna, and her snatches from physics and biological/metaphysical studies are this side of frivolous. However, Ms. Dillard has a great deal going for her — in spite of some repetition of words and concepts, her prose is bright, fresh and occasionally emulates (not imitates) the Walden Master in a contemporary context: "Trees. . . extend impressively in both directions, . . . shearing rock and fanning air, doing their real business just out of reach." She has set herself no less a task than understanding emotionally, spiritually and intellectually the force of the creative extravagance of the universe in all its beauty and horhor ("There is a terrible innocence in the benumbed world of the lower animals, reducing life to a universal chomp.") Experience can be focused, and awareness sharpened, by a kind of meditative high. Thus this becomes somewhat exhausting reading, if taken in toto, but even if Dillard's reach exceeds her grasp, her sights are leagues higher than that of Anne Morrow Lindbergh's Gift from the Sea, regretfully (re her sex), the inevitable comparison.
Pub Date: March 13, 1974
ISBN: 0061233323
Page Count: -
Publisher: Harper's Magazine Press
Review Posted Online: Nov. 2, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 1974
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