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4.18 AVERAGE
4.18 AVERAGE
reading williams is an experience like nothing else and i will continue to chase
3.5 stars
I loved the beginning of the book. The authors mother leaves her journals to her daughter but they are all blank. A lot of lovely chapters about birds, her lovely childhood about her grandmother’s impact on her life, her parents etc. However after that the book got a bit confusing and didn’t have focus; random thoughts floating around. Maybe that was intent of the book but I lost interest
When women were birds, we knew otherwise. We knew our greatest freedom was in taking flight at night, when we could steal the heavenly darkness for ourselves, navigating through the intelligence of stars and the constellations of our own making in the delight and terror of our uncertainty
Mother had one quilt square made by a friend of hers framed, and hung it in her bathroom, where she saw it first thing in the morning. When I asked her why this mattered, she said, “It represents how women piece together their lives from the scraps left over for them.”
The Roman goddess of silence, Angerona, held her finger to her lips as she stood in the posture of both pain and peace. My mother knew herself, and she kept her silence as a possession
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”
Lodgepole pinecones may remain unopened for years and burst open only during a forest fire,”
There are two important days in a woman’s life: the day she is born and the day she finds out why
I loved the beginning of the book. The authors mother leaves her journals to her daughter but they are all blank. A lot of lovely chapters about birds, her lovely childhood about her grandmother’s impact on her life, her parents etc. However after that the book got a bit confusing and didn’t have focus; random thoughts floating around. Maybe that was intent of the book but I lost interest
When women were birds, we knew otherwise. We knew our greatest freedom was in taking flight at night, when we could steal the heavenly darkness for ourselves, navigating through the intelligence of stars and the constellations of our own making in the delight and terror of our uncertainty
Mother had one quilt square made by a friend of hers framed, and hung it in her bathroom, where she saw it first thing in the morning. When I asked her why this mattered, she said, “It represents how women piece together their lives from the scraps left over for them.”
The Roman goddess of silence, Angerona, held her finger to her lips as she stood in the posture of both pain and peace. My mother knew herself, and she kept her silence as a possession
We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.”
Lodgepole pinecones may remain unopened for years and burst open only during a forest fire,”
There are two important days in a woman’s life: the day she is born and the day she finds out why
I have never been inclined to reread a book. TTW’s one liners that last through out the realms of the chapters take on an eerie cyclical feeling like we’ve been here before and explored the concepts almost fully but not — and that’s why they are reappearing now before you, as if by chance. The title is both a hook and a declarative statement that all women, all readers of this book know to be true. I feel both insane trying to press this book upon my friends when asked to explain it but also hopeful for them to unlock its magic all on their own. I’d give this book a 10 if I could.
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
I was expecting to absolutely love this book and, well, just didn't. I have a feeling that it's something I'll revisit, though.
I feel like I personally know Terry Tempest Williams every time I read one of her works. Her narrative resonates even if the circumstance isn’t familiar.
adventurous
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
sad
medium-paced
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
Although I have enjoyed Williams' nature writing this felt too precious for me, too self-aware. A friend of mine calls it, 'mouth feel'. She's a fine writer, but this was not, for me, her best.