Wild Book Review

May 14, 2013December 22, 2014 / Lisa / 2 Comments

I live near a portion of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), which runs from the border with Mexico to the border with Canada. One of my sisters wants me to hike it with her. I admit it’s tempting. But I’d have to spend too much money in gear. And find a pack big enough for my bed.

One thing that whetted my fascination with the trail was reading Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, which is about his trek along the Appalachian Trail. While he can be a bit hard on the forest service, the book made me laugh.

So when my sister gave me Cheryl Strayed’s new book, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, I was excited to read it. Unfortunately the excitement didn’t carry through many pages.

The author hiked the trail to deal with a life that spiraled out of control after the death of her mother. The book took loss, and put it in a unique setting. The writing is polished, the pace moves right along, and the people she meets on the trail are interesting. And in one case scary.

What seemed to be missing, for me, was balance. Meaning by about two-thirds through, I decided I’d had enough navel gazing (and I have to admit, what felt like whining) and not enough of the trail. When the author finally had her breakthrough in dealing with her mother I felt relieved, as if I could now get on with the business of hiking. Unfortunately the book remained on the same path. I wanted more details than just how heavy the pack was or how many toenails remained at the end of the day.

There are a lot of uncomfortable passages and one scene with a horse that is terrible. None made me think or question or grow. They just made me squirm. And I think the analogy Strayed tried to draw with the memory of the horse didn’t work.

In the places where the author did talk about the trail, she did okay with descriptions. I could see the views and feel the weather. But it felt like a tiny snippet of trail, which then segued into a large hunk of grieving. The problem for me, then, was a lack of balance between outer and inner worlds. Plus the fact that, to be honest, the inner world got a bit tiresome.

If you want a book on moving forward after loss, on a life that was self-destructing and slowly pieced back together, then this might be worth reading, though I found it more self-centered than similar memoirs. If you want a book on hiking in the wilderness, read the Barefoot Sister’s books, or Bryson’s. His may not be about the PCT but when he realizes his friend just chucked all the toilet paper over the cliff because it was too heavy, you’ll find yourself standing right next to him.

In Wild, I never found myself on the trail.

Present Tense aka Book Review

January 27, 2013December 22, 2014 / Lisa / 4 Comments

Have you ever come across one of those books you can’t escape? I did with The Crossing Places by Elly Griffiths. The first time I saw it was at a thrift store. The title caught my eye, the cover of a stormy gray beach did, too. It looked like a book I’d really like. Until I picked it up and glanced inside. It was written in present tense. You know…’I sit down’ instead of ‘I sat down’.

I don’t like present tense as it seems to keep me from immersing myself in the story.

Some time later I saw the book at the library. I thought ‘great title’, picked it up, and then thought, ‘oh, it’s this one again’. That happened several times. Finally I got the message that maybe I should give it a try. Within the first three pages I read this:

‘The wind is whispering through the reeds, and here and there they see glimpses of still, sullen water reflecting the grey sky. At the edge of the marshland Ruth stops, looking for the first sunken post, the twisting shingle path that leads through the treacherous water and out to the mudflats.

At the henge circle, the tide is out and the sand glitters in the early morning light. Ruth kneels on the ground as she saw Erik doing all those years ago. Gently she stirs the quivering mud with her trowel.

Suddenly everything is quiet; even the seabirds stop their mad skirling and calling up above. Or maybe they are still there and she just doesn’t hear them. In the background she can hear Nelson breathing hard but Ruth herself feels strangely calm. Even when she sees it, the tiny arm still wearing the christening bracelet, even then she feels nothing.

She had known what she was going to find.’

I read the book, and the next one, and the one after that. It took only a few pages for me to no longer notice the tense it was written in. There are a few reasons for this.

One, the author does an excellent job of making the setting a character in the book. The crossing place is that area between sea and land, and in Griffith’s hands the area becomes as vital to the story as the people. I felt the haunting magic and the ancient mysteries and loved how the story was strong because of where it took place.

Two, the characters were so real. With their flaws and humor and fears and loves. I wanted to spend time with them, which is why I bought the sequel. I cared about what happened to them all, even the ones I didn’t like.

Three, Griffiths wrote present tense in such a subtle way that I quit thinking about it. As I read I no longer felt it cumbersome and quit looking for mistakes. Present tense is very difficult to write because it’s not the way we speak and I don’t think it comes naturally to a writer. It would be interesting to ask Griffiths why she chose to write that way. Whatever the reason, she handles it with a deft, gentle pen so it is no longer a tool or affectation, but simply how that story had to be told.

Don’t get me wrong; I still don’t like present tense and would never consider writing that way. But Elly Griffiths has figured out how to make it work and I hope she keeps it up.

I also wish I’d bought the book in the thrift store when I first saw it. If I’d listened to my instincts I would have saved some money…

An Occasional Story of Snow

January 22, 2013December 22, 2014 / Lisa / 6 Comments

A friend was recently talking to me about taking their child sledding and it brought back a memory I want to share.

We have the coolest sledding spot around. We drag sleds partway up a gated logging road, to a place where it’s steep enough for speed, has some corners, and shallow ditches for crashing into brush. There’s no traffic and few people because most don’t want to go to the effort of hauling everything way up there.

But the trade-off is a spot in winter woods where you can shout and slush through snow and fly fast under the trees.

One winter my friend and I were up there with a bunch of kids. Her husband waited at the bottom of the road. He had a fire going, with hot dogs and snacks. When it started getting dark and all the hot chocolate was gone, most of the kids quit sledding and headed down to the fire.

My friend and I weren’t ready to go yet, and neither were her daughter and my son. We put the two on our sleds and hauled them up the logging road, hiking into the winter twilight. It was that deep quiet that falls under trees in snow. Just the sounds of the sleds, our breathing (some huffing and puffing as the road gets steep), cracking of branches off in the woods, and the sounds of sluggish cold water in the stream.

We hiked high in the woods until it was dark and then my friend and I sat on the sleds with the two kids, and sledded our way back out to the fire and laughter, taking our time. We wanted to prolong the magic of the winter forest as long as possible.

Those moments when we were pulling the kids behind us were beautiful. The still woods, the sense of life hibernating, the deepness of winter, and that shadowy light under the trees when it’s near dark, all made me feel as if I’d stepped into sanctuary.

I treasure that memory.

I tried to post a video of sledding in that area, but couldn’t get it to work. Instead I’ll just pop in a photo.

For a good winter book, try The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey.