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robertgrahamwsu's review against another edition
4.0
Great memoir of a self taught naturalist. Books from this era where many people regardless of their career were dedicated outdoorsman.
cdcsmith's review against another edition
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
4.0
It's hard for me to separate my feelings for places from things written about places at times. This may be one of those. Outer Most House being another one. They were both written long enough ago that much has changed... But a lot of it hasn't changed. My family has camped in the area and when we are there, we hike. We hike in some of the same places that are written about. It took me a while to read this in part because I kept stopping to pull trail maps out to match what he was writing about with places I was pretty sure I'd walked too. After I finished the book (about 30 minutes ago), I looked up the house. I know the house. I've walked past it more times than I can count. This book is a little like visiting again. This area of the world is where my heart feels it belongs. I don't know that it would have much meaning for someone who didn't love the place as much as I do.
emscji's review
4.0
7/7/2013: This is a quiet, gentle, and joyful set of musings on life in and around the Farm House, as Richardson calls it, in the 1930s and 40s. An amateur naturalist (in real life he was a Boston doctor), fisherman and hunter, he ponders in a playful and humble way such questions as how animals find their way home, how many ways birds have of talking, and how to explain tides. And he describes his and his family's activities--bass fishing, crabbing, and duck hunting--and my favorite: "Do-Nothing Day". (What in the Anderson family is called The 8 Day!)
Many times as I was reading this little volume I felt almost embarrassed--why am I reading this?! Objectively, the essays are boring and old-fashioned--the literary equivalent of sitting and listening to an older uncle natter on, reminiscing about things you have no knowledge of or interest in. (Your mind wanders to what is for dinner, or whether you need to buy new running shoes, or at worst how to get out of your conversation.) I had a hard time explaining to myself and others why I persisted--except that I was reading it for a book club, so I felt that I should finish it.
But then I started to feel the slow magic of Richardson's happiness. He so clearly loves this home and his place in it, and his enthusiastic, gentle manner worked on me, reminding me to Be Here Now (as we are told so often and I have a hard time remembering). A sort of Zen calm arrived with each new essay, as he exhorted me to come visit him at The Farm House, explaining which month is best for each activity, exclaiming about weather and warm fires and good food and summer evenings on the porch, watching the sunset….well, you get the idea. He writes as if there is nothing more important than enjoying nature and family and the good things life offers if one is paying attention. Not sanctimonious or pompous or self-conscious. It turns out, then, that old-fashioned earnest delight is refreshing, and comforting, and charming, and I'm a big fan. I wish he were still there, waiting for me to visit…I'd be on his doorstep tomorrow!
Many times as I was reading this little volume I felt almost embarrassed--why am I reading this?! Objectively, the essays are boring and old-fashioned--the literary equivalent of sitting and listening to an older uncle natter on, reminiscing about things you have no knowledge of or interest in. (Your mind wanders to what is for dinner, or whether you need to buy new running shoes, or at worst how to get out of your conversation.) I had a hard time explaining to myself and others why I persisted--except that I was reading it for a book club, so I felt that I should finish it.
But then I started to feel the slow magic of Richardson's happiness. He so clearly loves this home and his place in it, and his enthusiastic, gentle manner worked on me, reminding me to Be Here Now (as we are told so often and I have a hard time remembering). A sort of Zen calm arrived with each new essay, as he exhorted me to come visit him at The Farm House, explaining which month is best for each activity, exclaiming about weather and warm fires and good food and summer evenings on the porch, watching the sunset….well, you get the idea. He writes as if there is nothing more important than enjoying nature and family and the good things life offers if one is paying attention. Not sanctimonious or pompous or self-conscious. It turns out, then, that old-fashioned earnest delight is refreshing, and comforting, and charming, and I'm a big fan. I wish he were still there, waiting for me to visit…I'd be on his doorstep tomorrow!
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