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willowsfair's review against another edition
4.0
I found this book difficult to read, and at times wanted to shake the author. She seems sometimes wantonly clueless, and her attempts to cover it up with unusual turns of phrase leave me staring at those poetic words wondering what in the world they're doing in this book. She probably writes beautiful poetry. Still, now that I've finished the book I am glad I read it. Her journey across the realm of self takes her into places we all eventually must go, and it is helpful to have her insight in preparation for our own travels. Even if we can not agree with all of her opinions, it is easy to respect them.
vspinazola's review against another edition
5.0
Not to start this review like a hipster recipe blog, but I came across this used copy in an overstuffed bookstore in the Smoky Mountains this summer. I'm not sure why it called to me but I found it incredibly meaningful, as O'Reilly grew up Irish Catholic and spends a lot of time exploring how that framework has influenced her relationships.
The end of the book moves through her navigating the loss of her mother, including dealing with the managed/facility healthcare system. She also does volunteer wilderness vet work and shares the stories of all the animals she works with and on. I just found it to be a lovely book that you can digest a few chapters at a time, but has a lot to say.
The end of the book moves through her navigating the loss of her mother, including dealing with the managed/facility healthcare system. She also does volunteer wilderness vet work and shares the stories of all the animals she works with and on. I just found it to be a lovely book that you can digest a few chapters at a time, but has a lot to say.
tangleroot_eli's review against another edition
3.0
I wanted to love this book, as I loved [b:The Barn at the End of the World|106757|The Barn at the End of the World The Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd|Mary Rose O'Reilley|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1171567502s/106757.jpg|827541], but I just couldn't connect to it, though O'Reilley's detailed and unflinching writing style is as beautiful as ever. Whereas Barn takes unfamiliar experiences as makes them universally accessible (even to those of us who'd be hard-pressed to tell sheep from goat or Plum Village from plum pudding), Impermanent Things takes almost universal experiences (dealing with aging parents, spending time in Nature, having pets) and makes them inaccessible. Only when O'Reilley writes of her residency at Sitka do I feel really invited into the story; the rest of the time, she seems to intentionally hold readers at arm's length: "This is my life. My pain. My quest. You can't share it." While I applaud and encourage the quest for self that grounds this narrative, I'm not sure I needed to read 300 pages of a story into which the author did not invite me.
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