What do you think?
Rate this book
A Private History of Awe
An original and searching memoir from "one of America's finest essayists" (Phillip Lopate)
When Scott Russell Sanders was four, his father held him in his arms during a thunderstorm, and he felt awe--"the tingle of a power that surges through bone and rain and everything." He says, "The search for communion with this power has run like a bright thread through all my days." A Private History of Awe is an account of this search, told as a series of awe-inspiring his early memory of watching a fire with his father; his attraction to the solemn cadences of the Bible despite his frustration with Sunday-school religion; his discovery of books and the body; his mounting opposition to the Vietnam War and all forms of violence; his decision to leave behind the university life of Oxford and Harvard and return to Indiana, where three generations of his family have put down roots. In many ways, this is the story of a generation's passage through the 1960s--from innocence to experience, from euphoria to disillusionment. But Sanders has found a language that captures the transcendence of ordinary lives while never reducing them to formula. In his hands, the pattern of American boyhood that was made classic by writers from Mark Twain to Tobias Wolff is given a powerful new charge.
When Scott Russell Sanders was four, his father held him in his arms during a thunderstorm, and he felt awe--"the tingle of a power that surges through bone and rain and everything." He says, "The search for communion with this power has run like a bright thread through all my days." A Private History of Awe is an account of this search, told as a series of awe-inspiring his early memory of watching a fire with his father; his attraction to the solemn cadences of the Bible despite his frustration with Sunday-school religion; his discovery of books and the body; his mounting opposition to the Vietnam War and all forms of violence; his decision to leave behind the university life of Oxford and Harvard and return to Indiana, where three generations of his family have put down roots. In many ways, this is the story of a generation's passage through the 1960s--from innocence to experience, from euphoria to disillusionment. But Sanders has found a language that captures the transcendence of ordinary lives while never reducing them to formula. In his hands, the pattern of American boyhood that was made classic by writers from Mark Twain to Tobias Wolff is given a powerful new charge.
322 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2006
About the author
Scott Russell Sanders
72 books118 followersScott Russell Sanders is the award-winning author of A Private History of Awe, Hunting for Hope, A Conservationist Manifesto, Dancing in Dreamtime, and two dozen other books of fiction, personal narrative, and essays. His father came from a family of cotton farmers in Mississippi, his mother from an immigrant doctor’s family in Chicago. He spent his early childhood in Tennessee and his school years in Ohio, Rhode Island, and Cambridge, England.
In his writing he is concerned with our place in nature, the practice of community, and the search for a spiritual path. He and his wife, Ruth, a biochemist, have reared two children in their hometown of Bloomington, in the hardwood hill country of southern Indiana. You can visit Scott at www.scottrussellsanders.com.
In August 2020, Counterpoint Press will publish his new collection of essays, The Way of Imagination, a reflection on healing and renewal in a time of climate disruption. He is currently at work on a collection of short stories inspired by photographs.
In his writing he is concerned with our place in nature, the practice of community, and the search for a spiritual path. He and his wife, Ruth, a biochemist, have reared two children in their hometown of Bloomington, in the hardwood hill country of southern Indiana. You can visit Scott at www.scottrussellsanders.com.
In August 2020, Counterpoint Press will publish his new collection of essays, The Way of Imagination, a reflection on healing and renewal in a time of climate disruption. He is currently at work on a collection of short stories inspired by photographs.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
April 28, 2013
A Private History of Awe by Scott Russell Sanders is a beautiful testament to the power and fragility of this thing we call life--and the language we use to describe it. In his memoir, this gentle man holds in balance the wonder of the beginnings of life and the terrible waning of life as it ends. And he uses this balance to frame the story of his search for communion with the source of power that runs through all living things, all of nature, all of the universe. He guides us through stories of his youth in Tennessee and Ohio, his years in college, and his courtship and early married life with his wife. These memories are shared in parallel with recent interactions with his new granddaughter and his aging mother.
It would be easy to read the book as a memoir of American boyhood and what it was like to grow up in the 1950s and 60s--and Sanders does give us that. We see him growing up on a farm in Tennessee and moving to a military installation in Ohio where his father worked on bombs. He faces the taunts of Yankee boys for the way he talks until he tames his Southern speech patterns and learns what death is when he helps his father with a staged deer shoot for visiting generals. He falls for his first girl and loses her when her military family moves again three weeks later. He becomes aware of the color barrier and watches as the country responds violently to matters of civil rights. He spends most of young life dreaming of being a physicist and building rockets for space travel until he becomes dismayed with the uses to which governments put scientific discoveries.
But throughout his life Sanders is searching for moments of insight--"openings" as the Quakers refer to them. Moments of awe-inspiring connection with the current of power that runs through all things. Increasingly uncomfortable with religion that claims to be connected with a loving God while tacitly approving the destruction of enemies and ignoring the needs of the youngest, weakest, and eldest of society, he wants a connection with something more, something better, something that will allow for the awe that he has experienced repeatedly in his life--in the power of the rainstorm, in the opening of new leaves in spring, and the new life of children. As he says, he "wanted a larger view of life, a view more tender, more curious, more open to awe. [He] longed for a religion grand enough to hold the universe revealed by science. [He] wanted a religion generous enough to embrace all the world's young, not merely the Christ child, not merely our own children, and not merely the offspring of our species, a religion that would keep a man from worshiping in the White House chapel and then going downstairs to order bombing raids on cities filled with strangers."
Sanders' memoir resonates especially with me when he writes of his mother and her steady loss of vitality and language. He compares her losses with his granddaughter's gains--her loss of verbal skills with Elizabeth's slow mastery; her unsteady baby steps with the baby's growing confidence in walking. My father is head-injured and as a result suffers from aphasia and some emotional distress. His accident was in 1999 and for a good ten years after his initial recovery he held his own. Not always able to come up with the exact words he wanted, especially if stressed or excited, it still wasn't obvious that there were verbal barriers that had to be crossed before speaking and he did well in small gatherings and when given time to think. But that's changed in the last few years--and I see Dad's decline foreshadowed in Sanders' descriptions of his mother. His memoir is a personal call to me to be open to the awe-inspiring moments of my life and the fleeting time I have to share them with my parents and loved ones.
This was first posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
It would be easy to read the book as a memoir of American boyhood and what it was like to grow up in the 1950s and 60s--and Sanders does give us that. We see him growing up on a farm in Tennessee and moving to a military installation in Ohio where his father worked on bombs. He faces the taunts of Yankee boys for the way he talks until he tames his Southern speech patterns and learns what death is when he helps his father with a staged deer shoot for visiting generals. He falls for his first girl and loses her when her military family moves again three weeks later. He becomes aware of the color barrier and watches as the country responds violently to matters of civil rights. He spends most of young life dreaming of being a physicist and building rockets for space travel until he becomes dismayed with the uses to which governments put scientific discoveries.
But throughout his life Sanders is searching for moments of insight--"openings" as the Quakers refer to them. Moments of awe-inspiring connection with the current of power that runs through all things. Increasingly uncomfortable with religion that claims to be connected with a loving God while tacitly approving the destruction of enemies and ignoring the needs of the youngest, weakest, and eldest of society, he wants a connection with something more, something better, something that will allow for the awe that he has experienced repeatedly in his life--in the power of the rainstorm, in the opening of new leaves in spring, and the new life of children. As he says, he "wanted a larger view of life, a view more tender, more curious, more open to awe. [He] longed for a religion grand enough to hold the universe revealed by science. [He] wanted a religion generous enough to embrace all the world's young, not merely the Christ child, not merely our own children, and not merely the offspring of our species, a religion that would keep a man from worshiping in the White House chapel and then going downstairs to order bombing raids on cities filled with strangers."
Sanders' memoir resonates especially with me when he writes of his mother and her steady loss of vitality and language. He compares her losses with his granddaughter's gains--her loss of verbal skills with Elizabeth's slow mastery; her unsteady baby steps with the baby's growing confidence in walking. My father is head-injured and as a result suffers from aphasia and some emotional distress. His accident was in 1999 and for a good ten years after his initial recovery he held his own. Not always able to come up with the exact words he wanted, especially if stressed or excited, it still wasn't obvious that there were verbal barriers that had to be crossed before speaking and he did well in small gatherings and when given time to think. But that's changed in the last few years--and I see Dad's decline foreshadowed in Sanders' descriptions of his mother. His memoir is a personal call to me to be open to the awe-inspiring moments of my life and the fleeting time I have to share them with my parents and loved ones.
This was first posted on my blog My Reader's Block. Please request permission before reposting. Thanks.
September 1, 2012
A good read. I've always appreciated Sanders. My favorite quote was this: "I sometimes wonder if all other animals, all plants, maybe even stars and rivers and rocks, dwell in steady awareness of God, while humans alone, afflicted with self-consciousness, imagine ourselves apart." p. 166
I really resonate with this. As long as I can remember, I have asked this question about animals: “What do they KNOW?”
What I’ve come to believe (but cannot prove) is that animals inherently know “I AM” in a way humans somehow do not (or have forgotten). That is to say, animals know God _is_. By their very nature, I think, they live in an awareness of God’s presence.
In contrast, we humans find we must "practice" the presence of God. Somehow in our fallen-yet-redeemed state, the natural awareness of God’s presence has left us, and now we must practice to live in it.
I really resonate with this. As long as I can remember, I have asked this question about animals: “What do they KNOW?”
What I’ve come to believe (but cannot prove) is that animals inherently know “I AM” in a way humans somehow do not (or have forgotten). That is to say, animals know God _is_. By their very nature, I think, they live in an awareness of God’s presence.
In contrast, we humans find we must "practice" the presence of God. Somehow in our fallen-yet-redeemed state, the natural awareness of God’s presence has left us, and now we must practice to live in it.
October 20, 2018
Masterpiece.
November 13, 2022
When I told a former English professor I wanted to read essays, she lent me this book. I adore this author's story telling.
December 28, 2018
An awesome memoir
One of the best memoirs I read this year: inspirational, insightful, and filled with simple yet profound truths about nature, our country and Christianity. Sanders does not shy away from ugliness either. I've rarely agreed more with a writer about everything. Read it and contemplate .
One of the best memoirs I read this year: inspirational, insightful, and filled with simple yet profound truths about nature, our country and Christianity. Sanders does not shy away from ugliness either. I've rarely agreed more with a writer about everything. Read it and contemplate .
November 15, 2018
A lovely book--in which Sanders allows his readers a look at his earnest, youthful self and combines familial love and conflict, culture/politics, and his reverence for the world (nature, environment, humans, animals, etc) into a defining and personal sense of awe.
January 9, 2021
The author weaves scenes from his present with his past to show us how he has experienced awe in his life, as well as discovering himself and his values. It continually allowed me to evaluate my life in the context of awe. I didn't want this book to end!
October 12, 2020
Some parts dragged. Nothing awesome for me...forced my way through it; Im not sure why?
February 23, 2016
This is a beautiful book. Sander’s writing is graceful and eloquent, even though I did not always find myself in agreement with his theology. It is evident that Sanders has left his childhood faith behind. Yet, and it may seem strange for me to suggest this from a man who questions the deity of Christ, his writings appear to me to be incarnational. Sanders experiences the Creator’s hand throughout the world and especially in other people. In this memoir, Sanders weaves together the story of his first twenty-five years (up to the birth of his daughter) with the present (experiencing the world through his granddaughter and the decline of his own mother).
Although born in the rural South, Sanders’ family moved north when he was just a boy. His father took a position at the Arsenal, a huge military compound in Ohio where they build bombs for the Korean and Vietnam Wars. Later, the family moved outside the Arsenal, to a home with land along a creek (that would later be dammed for reservoir, requiring the family to move again). Here, Sanders began to love nature. Sanders’ father often drank and could be abusive, especially to his mother. As a young boy, Sanders hated his father for how he treated his mother, but in later years he seems to have made some peace and realized there were good characteristics to his father. For one, his father challenged racial assumptions that were common in America during the 1950s and early 60s. The contractor he worked for also saw this and when Sanders was older, they sent his father to Louisiana to help foster peace between African-American and white workers. Sanders himself grew up admiring Martin Luther King, and he relates much of what was happening in his life to national and international events including the Civil Rights movement, the Cold War and Vietnam.
As a high school student, Sanders attended a camp for students who showed promise within the sciences where he met a girl named Ruth, from Indiana. The two of them struck up a close friendship that lasted through their senior year in high school and through their college years. (Ruth stayed back in Indiana for school while Sanders headed to Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island). While in college, Brown changed majors, leaving science behind for English. After college, Sanders had a scholarship to study in Great Britain while Ruth had a scholarship for graduate study at Harvard, but they ended up marrying and both going to Britain where Sanders earned a PhD, focusing his dissertation on the writings of D. H. Lawrence. Coming back to America, the couple decided to settle in Indiana, with Sanders teaching at the University. This decision went against the suggestions of many of their friends who questioned such wisdom of attempting to become an established author in the Midwest. However, the decision reflected the role of place and the importance of family in the Sanders’ lives.
This book contains many wonderful stories. We learn about how Sanders first encountered and later dealt with racial issues, with the Vietnam War and the possibility of being drafted, with the two-sides of his father, with his place in the created world and awe for nature and a desire to do no harm. Grace is seen throughout these pages. Sanders may have moved away from the childhood faith of his parents, but he retains the awe and is disturbed that awe is often missing from churches today.
There were two places where Sanders got me questioning his understanding of nature or remembrance of an event. Both are minor mistakes, but I will note them. He speaks of the seed heads of poisonous sumac turning brilliantly red in the fall (92), but that plant doesn’t have a seed head and its berries don’t turn red don’t turn red but a grayish white. I think he is referring to staghorn sumac. On another occasion, he tells about going to a room at the university (in Great Britain) to watch the first man on the moon. As they walked to the building, the clouds parted long enough for him to see the waxing crescent of the moon… Early that next morning, as he’s walking back from having spent most of the night watching the moon footage, he also sees the crescent moon setting. If it was truly a crescent (new moon), it would have long set when he headed home. As a said, both of these are minor and really don’t distract from the power of Sander’s prose.
Although born in the rural South, Sanders’ family moved north when he was just a boy. His father took a position at the Arsenal, a huge military compound in Ohio where they build bombs for the Korean and Vietnam Wars. Later, the family moved outside the Arsenal, to a home with land along a creek (that would later be dammed for reservoir, requiring the family to move again). Here, Sanders began to love nature. Sanders’ father often drank and could be abusive, especially to his mother. As a young boy, Sanders hated his father for how he treated his mother, but in later years he seems to have made some peace and realized there were good characteristics to his father. For one, his father challenged racial assumptions that were common in America during the 1950s and early 60s. The contractor he worked for also saw this and when Sanders was older, they sent his father to Louisiana to help foster peace between African-American and white workers. Sanders himself grew up admiring Martin Luther King, and he relates much of what was happening in his life to national and international events including the Civil Rights movement, the Cold War and Vietnam.
As a high school student, Sanders attended a camp for students who showed promise within the sciences where he met a girl named Ruth, from Indiana. The two of them struck up a close friendship that lasted through their senior year in high school and through their college years. (Ruth stayed back in Indiana for school while Sanders headed to Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island). While in college, Brown changed majors, leaving science behind for English. After college, Sanders had a scholarship to study in Great Britain while Ruth had a scholarship for graduate study at Harvard, but they ended up marrying and both going to Britain where Sanders earned a PhD, focusing his dissertation on the writings of D. H. Lawrence. Coming back to America, the couple decided to settle in Indiana, with Sanders teaching at the University. This decision went against the suggestions of many of their friends who questioned such wisdom of attempting to become an established author in the Midwest. However, the decision reflected the role of place and the importance of family in the Sanders’ lives.
This book contains many wonderful stories. We learn about how Sanders first encountered and later dealt with racial issues, with the Vietnam War and the possibility of being drafted, with the two-sides of his father, with his place in the created world and awe for nature and a desire to do no harm. Grace is seen throughout these pages. Sanders may have moved away from the childhood faith of his parents, but he retains the awe and is disturbed that awe is often missing from churches today.
There were two places where Sanders got me questioning his understanding of nature or remembrance of an event. Both are minor mistakes, but I will note them. He speaks of the seed heads of poisonous sumac turning brilliantly red in the fall (92), but that plant doesn’t have a seed head and its berries don’t turn red don’t turn red but a grayish white. I think he is referring to staghorn sumac. On another occasion, he tells about going to a room at the university (in Great Britain) to watch the first man on the moon. As they walked to the building, the clouds parted long enough for him to see the waxing crescent of the moon… Early that next morning, as he’s walking back from having spent most of the night watching the moon footage, he also sees the crescent moon setting. If it was truly a crescent (new moon), it would have long set when he headed home. As a said, both of these are minor and really don’t distract from the power of Sander’s prose.
March 8, 2012
In A Private History of Awe, Scott Russell Sanders writes about his life and various stages of coming of age. The book begins with one of his earliest memories, when his father held him on the porch of their house while a storm rolled it. It was, as Sanders describes, his first experience with awe, his first engagement with the forces of life in the universe.
Sanders states that his aim is to detail those experiences where he encounters awe, but the memoir is more than that. He details those moments--especially early lessons learned from nature--but he also chronicles his life growing up: his early childhood in Tennesee, a traumatic move to Ohio, his father's battle with alcohol, his mother's whirlwind energy, and falling in love. Many chapters include glimpses of Sanders' contemporary life, as he joys in the care of a new granddaughter and struggles through care for his mother, who grows increasingly frail through the course of the book.
A Private History of Awe is also part social history as Sanders writes about his experiences--in particular--with racism and the Vietnam War. Sanders writes of these subjects as you would expect a young adult of the 1960s to do--with passion, idealism, and sometimes bitterness. Occasionally, the memoir lapses into a genre I call "Baby Boomer whining;" in this case Sanders diverges into mini-rants about the government and losses of innocence for which, as a non-Boomer, I have a fairly low tolerance. But these are the shade to the moments of light. Sanders writes, "This seemed to be the way of life, blessings coming to us against a background of sorrow," and I recognize that although I found such passages tiresome, the book would be incomplete without them.
I have had this book on my to-read list for about 4 years, and I finally read it now because Sanders happens to be the keynote speaker at a conference I will attend at the end of March 2012. After reading A Private History of Awe, I am looking forward to hearing him.
Sanders states that his aim is to detail those experiences where he encounters awe, but the memoir is more than that. He details those moments--especially early lessons learned from nature--but he also chronicles his life growing up: his early childhood in Tennesee, a traumatic move to Ohio, his father's battle with alcohol, his mother's whirlwind energy, and falling in love. Many chapters include glimpses of Sanders' contemporary life, as he joys in the care of a new granddaughter and struggles through care for his mother, who grows increasingly frail through the course of the book.
A Private History of Awe is also part social history as Sanders writes about his experiences--in particular--with racism and the Vietnam War. Sanders writes of these subjects as you would expect a young adult of the 1960s to do--with passion, idealism, and sometimes bitterness. Occasionally, the memoir lapses into a genre I call "Baby Boomer whining;" in this case Sanders diverges into mini-rants about the government and losses of innocence for which, as a non-Boomer, I have a fairly low tolerance. But these are the shade to the moments of light. Sanders writes, "This seemed to be the way of life, blessings coming to us against a background of sorrow," and I recognize that although I found such passages tiresome, the book would be incomplete without them.
I have had this book on my to-read list for about 4 years, and I finally read it now because Sanders happens to be the keynote speaker at a conference I will attend at the end of March 2012. After reading A Private History of Awe, I am looking forward to hearing him.
October 21, 2015
In A Private History of Awe, Scott Russell Sanders takes a thunderstorm and illustrates how it can dance across three generations. Sanders not only spotlights the beauty and spectacle a thunderstorm can create, but also its rude and wild fury.
This is one man’s deeply personal path of awe, a memoir of sorts, but mostly the story of how one soul can become so beautifully entangled in both life and death. Throughout the story of Sanders’ life are these spectacular vignettes of his newborn grandchild as she embarks on her new path and his mother, who is at the end of hers, creating a richly dimensional portrayal of the blurred edges of life and death.
I was overwhelmed with Sanders’ spiritual landscape, how he was initially overcome by the poetry of the bible, but became disillusioned with its deliverance. At certain moments in the book the reader is swept up in the beauty of the church, of Quaker ideals and the music of psalms, only to be suddenly caught in the muck of Sanders’ disgust and confusion concerning the violence and hypocrisy in the bible. Sanders’ brazen vulnerability commands a response. Whether you tuck his words away, or openly wear them for others to see, they’ll grow inside of you, perhaps a little like the mustard seed that clanks around in all of us. It is very likely that awe and faith share a little camaraderie.
I will leave you with my favorite quote:
"I would have been happy to save my soul – assuming it was salvageable – but I couldn’t accept that we were born into this world merely to angle for a favorable deal in the next one. Surely there was work we should be doing right here, right now, in this amazing flesh and brimming instant. Surely there must be some purpose in life larger than one’s own private salvation. Surely the fate of one’s soul is bound up with the fate of one’s neighbors and neighborhood."
This is one man’s deeply personal path of awe, a memoir of sorts, but mostly the story of how one soul can become so beautifully entangled in both life and death. Throughout the story of Sanders’ life are these spectacular vignettes of his newborn grandchild as she embarks on her new path and his mother, who is at the end of hers, creating a richly dimensional portrayal of the blurred edges of life and death.
I was overwhelmed with Sanders’ spiritual landscape, how he was initially overcome by the poetry of the bible, but became disillusioned with its deliverance. At certain moments in the book the reader is swept up in the beauty of the church, of Quaker ideals and the music of psalms, only to be suddenly caught in the muck of Sanders’ disgust and confusion concerning the violence and hypocrisy in the bible. Sanders’ brazen vulnerability commands a response. Whether you tuck his words away, or openly wear them for others to see, they’ll grow inside of you, perhaps a little like the mustard seed that clanks around in all of us. It is very likely that awe and faith share a little camaraderie.
I will leave you with my favorite quote:
"I would have been happy to save my soul – assuming it was salvageable – but I couldn’t accept that we were born into this world merely to angle for a favorable deal in the next one. Surely there was work we should be doing right here, right now, in this amazing flesh and brimming instant. Surely there must be some purpose in life larger than one’s own private salvation. Surely the fate of one’s soul is bound up with the fate of one’s neighbors and neighborhood."
March 9, 2010
This is a very interesting book. A religious book from a non-religious man. Sanders "awe" serves as a stand in for life force, energy, 7th chackra, god and all the other descriptions of spiritual oneness throughout worldwide cultures. What he describes as the god-like moments all of us at one time or another feel, he explains as being one with the natural forces around us. He recalls seeing thunder and lightning while being held in his fathers arms at a very young age, one most of us would have a very difficult time remembering, as his first awe inspiring moment. He seems to have almost magical poweres of recollection as he details his life and the many times in it when he felt and processed awe. His family history is anything but a bowl of cherries yet he is still able to make the reader feel that he has missed out on the little and some very big things in life that can inspire such feelings. If only we would open our eyes to them and not be blinded by the hurt and fears that make there way into every persons life. He juxtaposes much of his stories of magical moments with stories of his mothers degenerating senility and fathers alcoholism. As if to prove that for every yin there is a yang and not to make the tale too sappy and treacly. There are as many heartbreaking moments in the book as there are triumphs. Just like life.
May 25, 2015
I had some reservations at first when I came upon several religious references, until the author equally (albeit briefly) discussed the connections between the diverse faiths. In addition to he post-war America setting, there was an insightful pondering on the position of the writer's country and its nuances in terms of their decisions, particularly on the Vietnam War. An effective way of taking a definite stance on a sensitive subject is to look at it from both sides before making a statement and the book has done that beautifully. What's even more engaging is the delicate language, as if the author is writing his memoir as letters to a loved one. And I guess, in my case, the phase of this writer as a graduate student majoring in Literature, from Anthropology and his wife, Biology resonated to me even more.
Although the domestic setting somehow reinforces the general belief that there is no such thing as an ideal family, and that anyone could have written this story, the truth is, there are some who cannot express it as eloquently as Sanders did. The primordial elements--fire, air, earth, and water-- stand effectively as connecting threads comes naturally in the narrative, reminding us that we are one with this world, that our 'sense of place' need to be heightened.
Although the domestic setting somehow reinforces the general belief that there is no such thing as an ideal family, and that anyone could have written this story, the truth is, there are some who cannot express it as eloquently as Sanders did. The primordial elements--fire, air, earth, and water-- stand effectively as connecting threads comes naturally in the narrative, reminding us that we are one with this world, that our 'sense of place' need to be heightened.
April 25, 2009
One of the better memoirs I've read. He takes a relatively normal growing up and young adulthood and suffuses it with an extraordinary longing, a smartness, and empathy for his fellow living creatures. You get the sense the writer's a very kind man, with a big heart and also a pretty big sense of guilt, too. The back-and-forth between his growing up and the present-day birth of his granddaughter and demise of his mother worked pretty well to give the book a double narrative drive. A searching, searching kind of memoir. I liked it.
August 14, 2010
I met Scott Sanders in Concord, Massachusetts, in 2007, at the Annual Gathering of the Thoreau Society. We had a very cordial conversation and learned things from each other. Then I read his book. It's not just about his life; it's about his life as a constant journey of discovery and ecstasy, things he learned and insights along the way. I was very impressed at the affective nature of the book. It turns out that we grew up about 50 miles from each other in Ohio, and there were parallels in our lives. It was a treat to know him better through his book.
March 12, 2008
Well, I dunno . . .
I heard Scott RS talk last year and liked him, could even say he inspired me. So I bought this book . . .
It's reasonably interesting as a memoir of a life that's not especially remarkable. He places his life story in the context of being awe-struck by the miracle of existence, and frankly it starts to wear after awhile . . . the homiletic tone. A secular preacher . . . self-justifying.
Yes, he's a good man, and he damn sure wants us to know it.
-- Michael
I heard Scott RS talk last year and liked him, could even say he inspired me. So I bought this book . . .
It's reasonably interesting as a memoir of a life that's not especially remarkable. He places his life story in the context of being awe-struck by the miracle of existence, and frankly it starts to wear after awhile . . . the homiletic tone. A secular preacher . . . self-justifying.
Yes, he's a good man, and he damn sure wants us to know it.
-- Michael
October 11, 2010
I had a little trouble getting into this book. It's very good but in the first few pages it's so soft and gentle, I was thinking it was going to be like The Country of the Pointed Firs. (Which I loved but nothing happens) I'm glad I persisted, it's much, much more and very compelling and interesting. The author is coming to my hometown of Bradford, PA to our University and I'm looking forward to meeting him.
October 27, 2010
I read this book the day before the author spoke at our local university. This is the best memoir I have ever read. He was born in the deep south and came of age in the midwest...where he eventually settled and claimed as his place. He advocates for the simple life and caring for our planet, one communty at a time.
January 9, 2011
One of the heroes of CNF recounts awe-inspiring moments through his life. Organizing themes include elements (Fire, Air, Water, Earth) and hid dying mother and baby granddaughter (Eva and Elizabeth). Beautiful writing with seamless organization and transitions. Ruminative and narrative. Got a bit philosophical but still A+
May 28, 2012
Scott Russell Sanders is a true wordsmith. As a writer, anytime I begin to undertake serious revbision of my work, I revisit this memoir, for its wordcraft and beautifully crafted sentences always influence my own work.
But Sanders also tells a story that makes you feel as if you are sitting on the porch swing on the outskirts of Memphis, soaking up his tales as you become a part of his world.
But Sanders also tells a story that makes you feel as if you are sitting on the porch swing on the outskirts of Memphis, soaking up his tales as you become a part of his world.
June 7, 2010
A memoir of the writer's childhood, his marriage to his high school sweethear, and his pursuit of Phd. at Cambridge. He parallels the age changing events of the 1960's with his own coming of age. I finished the book, but didn't much care for it.
September 13, 2010
I loved all of his descriptions and obeservations, and how well-crafted his memories are, but I should read his essays- I'm guessing I would prefer them. He had a few moments bordering self-righteousness that tasted a little sour to me. But that's just the vibe I got.
December 24, 2014
Although some of the prose was moving and picturesque, I couldn't help but feel as though I could've told this story myself - there wasn't anything in it that inspired me, or seemed to me to be unique.
April 15, 2007
Written by a former professor. A little dry at times, but a moving read.
Want to read
February 11, 2008Beautiful title by an author I respect. Gotta read it.
June 6, 2008
You'll really want to snuggle up and read this one. It's the book you keep on your night stand. My favorite phrase-Who ever you are, be srue it is you. Read what he has to write about rain.Lovely.
October 6, 2008
Read this book!
May 27, 2009
Sanders wrestles with the conflict between religion and science and does a nice job explaining it, at least what it means to him.
September 7, 2015
It took me quite awhile to get involved, although the author is a good story teller. I'm feeling highly ambivalent about this one and am really looking forward to our discussion.
June 28, 2011
This was a very good memoir, almost not like a typical 'this problem and that issue' memoir. Very well-written and deeply thought out. Page 250 was my favorite page.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews