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kellyroberson's review against another edition
4.0
More meandering than Making Toast, almost poetry. The last 25 pages tho … oof.
patlo's review against another edition
3.0
A lovely idea, but it just didn't captivate me as I hoped it would. I had hoped to give it to a friend who is grieving but has difficulty processing those emotions. This book isn't it.
The book is distant, disengaged, partly on purpose, partly by personality.
It did propel me to read [b:Tinkers|4957350|Tinkers|Paul Harding|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255979744s/4957350.jpg|5023150] and pull out [b:On Celtic Tides: One Man's Journey Around Ireland by Sea Kayak|554188|On Celtic Tides One Man's Journey Around Ireland by Sea Kayak|Chris Duff|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1311983386s/554188.jpg|541415] for another re-read, but I don't think I'll need to revisit this one. It was by no means a poor book; it just didn't catch my attention as I'd hoped that it would.
The book is distant, disengaged, partly on purpose, partly by personality.
It did propel me to read [b:Tinkers|4957350|Tinkers|Paul Harding|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255979744s/4957350.jpg|5023150] and pull out [b:On Celtic Tides: One Man's Journey Around Ireland by Sea Kayak|554188|On Celtic Tides One Man's Journey Around Ireland by Sea Kayak|Chris Duff|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1311983386s/554188.jpg|541415] for another re-read, but I don't think I'll need to revisit this one. It was by no means a poor book; it just didn't catch my attention as I'd hoped that it would.
lisagray68's review against another edition
4.0
I didn't realize this was the same author as "Making Toast", which I really liked. It's not much different than that one. Reflections on grief -- and Roger Rosenblatt is a great writer. I'd read Making Toast, though, if you want to read one.
middle_name_joy's review against another edition
2.0
Towards the middle of Kayak Morning by Roger Rosenblatt, the author admitted that “[t]here isn’t a hell of a lot to do these days but go kayaking and project.” And project—about kayaking and other random things—he does. Unlike the predecessor to this slim memoir, [b:Making Toast|6597008|Making Toast|Roger Rosenblatt|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1246914374s/6597008.jpg|6790780], which I criticized for lacking philosophy, Morning is in the clouds and content to stay there.
In a stream of conscious rambling, Rosenblatt references the kayak and the creek ad nauseum, literature (can’t go into Nature without making mention of Emerson), and his own experiences as a journalist, name-dropping included, to work through the grief of his adult daughter’s passing. If Making Toast was a family drama, Kayak Morning is a one-man show, a very depressed man.
The prose was often random and disconnected, featuring foreign (to my eye and ear) terms that distracted me from the point. You could tell a lot more polish and literary research went into this memoir, rather than the bulk of the narrative coming from his own experience. The brightest spots were when Rosenblatt reverted to the family snippets. And while the inference of all his life-and-death posturing was the enduring resonance of love, even when it takes the form of grief, it was a dense journey to get there.
I don’t fault him his grief or anger or confusion. For true writers, writing is the way they make sense of the world and the events that take place in it. I just wonder if this wouldn’t have been better left on the hard drive until he could analyze it--and himself--clearly.
In a stream of conscious rambling, Rosenblatt references the kayak and the creek ad nauseum, literature (can’t go into Nature without making mention of Emerson), and his own experiences as a journalist, name-dropping included, to work through the grief of his adult daughter’s passing. If Making Toast was a family drama, Kayak Morning is a one-man show, a very depressed man.
The prose was often random and disconnected, featuring foreign (to my eye and ear) terms that distracted me from the point. You could tell a lot more polish and literary research went into this memoir, rather than the bulk of the narrative coming from his own experience. The brightest spots were when Rosenblatt reverted to the family snippets. And while the inference of all his life-and-death posturing was the enduring resonance of love, even when it takes the form of grief, it was a dense journey to get there.
I don’t fault him his grief or anger or confusion. For true writers, writing is the way they make sense of the world and the events that take place in it. I just wonder if this wouldn’t have been better left on the hard drive until he could analyze it--and himself--clearly.
lisagray68's review
4.0
I didn't realize this was the same author as "Making Toast", which I really liked. It's not much different than that one. Reflections on grief -- and Roger Rosenblatt is a great writer. I'd read Making Toast, though, if you want to read one.
sunsoar25's review
3.0
Kayak Morning by Roger Rosenblatt is a flowing mediation on all sorts of topics, including life and death, literature, and memory, as the author paddles along in his kayak not far from his home. It's a lyrical journey as he contemplates his grief over the loss of his daughter. His sadness is palpable, but he continues to move forward in life and reaffirm its goodness.
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