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A review by drollgorg
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard
challenging
emotional
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
4.0
I chewed on this for a lot longer than I'd have expected from the slimness of the book itself. I truly wish I had Annie Dillard's talent for observation and for a careful, methodical turning over of the possibilities for significance embedded in all those things she's observing.
As such a singularly known nature writer, it's not surprising that she concerns herself with a tension that can be found after ten minutes of observing insects interacting outdoors, and that naturalists, artists, philosophers and theologians have been chewing at for centuries. How is it that the beauty which can be observed and felt in every aspect of creation can also be reconciled with the absolute amorality of universe, in which the drive of genes to out-propagate other genes has created brutality and the raw materials for all the nightmares to have ever been dreamed, 40 percent of animals being some variety of parasite and all that. Does meaning, constructed out of the universe, stand up against the meaning-consuming competition of life multiplying within limited resources?
Unfortunately, she doesn't have a definitive answer to that one. It's not all she talks about, of course, and this isn't a book that really sets out to answer the question and more just to ponder it. Along with many other aspects of mystical experience and a life lived within nature. At points I did did feel like the book was opaque, either when Dillard is trying to express some unclear and contradictory feelings or with the density of the language solidifying into some particularly thick, intricate passages. Maybe I just haven't felt some of the things she's describing. But it was a worthwhile endeavor to make my way through- the best nature writing, I think, doesn't substitute for experiencing the world yourself but it does open you to seeing things with a new lens.
As such a singularly known nature writer, it's not surprising that she concerns herself with a tension that can be found after ten minutes of observing insects interacting outdoors, and that naturalists, artists, philosophers and theologians have been chewing at for centuries. How is it that the beauty which can be observed and felt in every aspect of creation can also be reconciled with the absolute amorality of universe, in which the drive of genes to out-propagate other genes has created brutality and the raw materials for all the nightmares to have ever been dreamed, 40 percent of animals being some variety of parasite and all that. Does meaning, constructed out of the universe, stand up against the meaning-consuming competition of life multiplying within limited resources?
Unfortunately, she doesn't have a definitive answer to that one. It's not all she talks about, of course, and this isn't a book that really sets out to answer the question and more just to ponder it. Along with many other aspects of mystical experience and a life lived within nature. At points I did did feel like the book was opaque, either when Dillard is trying to express some unclear and contradictory feelings or with the density of the language solidifying into some particularly thick, intricate passages. Maybe I just haven't felt some of the things she's describing. But it was a worthwhile endeavor to make my way through- the best nature writing, I think, doesn't substitute for experiencing the world yourself but it does open you to seeing things with a new lens.