About book Teaching A Stone To Talk: Expeditions And Encounters (1988)
from AN EXPEDITION TO THE POLE:God does not demand that we give up our personal dignity, that we throw in our lot with random people, that we lose ourselves and turn from all that is not him. God needs nothing, asks nothing, and demands nothing, like the stars. It is a life with God which demands these things.Experiences has taught the race that if knowledge of God is the end, then these habits of life are not the means but the condition in which the means operates. You do not have to do these things; not at all. God does not, I regret to report, give a hoot. You do not have to do these things--unless you want to know God. They work on you, not on him.You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it. (31)The eighteenth-century Hasidic Jews had more sense, and more belief. One Hasidic slaughterer, whose work required invoking the Lord, bade a tearful farewell to his wife and children every morning before he set out for the slaughterhouse. He felt, every morning, that he would never see any of them again. For every day, as he himself stood with his knife in his hand, the words of his prayer carried him into danger. After he called on God, God might notice and destroy him before he had time to utter the rest, "Have mercy."Another Hasid, a rabbi, refused to promise a friend to visit him the next day: "How can you ask me to make such a promsie? This evenign I must pray and recite 'Hear, O Israel.' When I say these words, my soul goes out to the utmost rim of life. . . . Perhaps I shall not die this time either, but how can I now promise to do something at a time after the prayer?" (41)from TOTAL ECLIPSE:The mind--the culture--has two little tools, grammar and lexicon: a decorated sand bucket and a matching shovel. With these we bluster about the continents and do all the world's work. With these we try to save our very lives. (99)from LIFE ON THE ROCKS: THE GALAPAGOSSo the rocks shape life, and then life shapes life, and the rocks are moving. The completed picture needs one more element: life shapes the rocks. (129)
The book is uneven. More often than not, I don’t know what is being said or why. Words and sentences are presented with little or no meaning. Stories jump around and I miss their line. And yet, there’s always enough to keep me going. When Dillard encountered a weasel unexpectedly, she writes that “our eyes locked, and someone threw away the key.” It’s “face was fierce, small and pointed as a lizard’s; he would have made a good arrowhead,” she observes. Reflecting on its life, she says that “The weasel lives in necessity and we live in choice, hating necessity and dying at the last ignobly in its talons.” In another story, at a church where there was the custom of saying “peace be with you” to those nearby in the pew, the proper response was the same, “peace be with you.” Sitting next to two “teen-aged lugs,” Dillard said, “peace be with you,” and one of the lugs replied, “Yeah.” On a hilltop near Yakima, Washington, Dillard spots Crab Nebula, and comments that “It expands at the rate of seventy million miles a day. It is interesting to look through binoculars at something expanding seventy million miles a day. It does not budge.” Or, Dillard taps into a nice image of mystery. Walking by a field, she remarked to her friend that “’There are angels in those fields.’ Angels!...I have rarely been so surprised at something I’ve said. Angels! What are angels? I had never thought of angels, in any way at all.” Thinking about it a bit, she writes, “My impression now of those fields is of thousands of spirits – spirits trapped, perhaps, by my refusal to call them more fully, or by the paralysis of my own spirit at that time – thousands of spirits, angels in fact, almost discernible to the eye, and whirling. If pressed I would say they were three or four feet from the ground.” That’s enough for most people to keep their distance. Dillard senses and shows what most of us do not see. And that’s a good thing.
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Each time I tried to read this book I would notice my boyfriend laughing, what I didn't notice was that I would sit down heavily and sigh as though someone was making me do knuckle push-ups. I was loaned this book by a wealthy, bored woman that I work for and thought it would be polite of me to read the book that means so much to her. Today I decided I'm done fighting. I'm tired of hearing about "god" and self-righteous observations of nature and man conquering it. I found this book pompous, boring, and excruciating to try to read.
—Lisa
Never thought I'd give an Annie Dillard less than 5 (or 6 or 7) stars, but this one didn't speak to me quite as much as Pilgrim at Tinker Creek or Holy the Firm or even The Maytrees. Perhaps it's because I'm still in my twenties and see the world from an awestruck perspective (a la Pilgrim) while Dillard has moved on to contemplating her own mortality and the swift passage of time. She also seems out of her element writing about her time in the Amazon and the Galapagos Islands. She just writes better about home, I think. There are exceptions--her essays on spiritual experiences and reconciling God and evolution are breathtaking.If you haven't read any of her books, I don't recommend starting with this one. Do yourself a favor and get blown away by Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.
—Nate
Every time I read Annie Dillard I become more responsible. In general. Her words are purposeful, she addresses sorrow, beauty and terror with nouns and adjectives that, if you aren't careful, look like every other noun and adjective you have ever read. But this isn't so. There is not a wasted syllable. Read about the Deer at Provenance, a story about a young fawn tied to a tree, resigning to the despair of its own death, and the people that circle around, quietly, and watch. And then read how she balances words like 'slender' with 'violence'. Ah! And then Expedition to the Pole! Never has absurdity and wisdom come together so well in American essay than here. The images and thoughts on church, human folly, polar bears and the unknown spin like a fever dream and burn like postmodern prophecy. Woo!
—Shannonpresler
