Reviews
The Ghosts Who Travel with Me: A Literary Pilgrimage Through Brautigan's America by Allison Green
megan_jessop's review against another edition
4.0
Green has a very strong voice for this type of book, the memoir style writing that takes readers on a journey of traveling with the author back to her childhood home while also following the road of Richard Brautigan. I appreciated the history of the author as she reflected on growing up in rural Idaho as a queer feminist and how different her life was compared to the rest of her family and reconciling that with her current life. I really loved the thread of Brautigan's history and his work throughout Green's story and the parallels and comparison's she expressed as well. Green's writing style is clear, direct, reflective, and even nostalgic. I loved her story overall and being able to learn about her experiences in a time when things were less accepted than they are today and how she found strength in her own identity through the literature. I feel as though I would have had a much deeper appreciation of the book if I was more familiar with Brautigan's work. As it is, I felt like the book was still very strong on it's own, even without that knowledge.
bibliobrujx's review against another edition
3.0
I didn't love this book like I wanted to, a comment that talked down to younger generations put me off, and her offhanded brush over racism put a bad taste in my mouth. Although the book did re inspire the Brautigan lover in mea and made me want to jump in the car and hit the open road. For that I am grateful.
swindlesoiree's review against another edition
4.0
Although I was largely unfamiliar with the content of this book when I picked it up—specifically Richard Brautigan’s work or his influence in the realm of poetry lovers and readers alike—I found myself instantly captivated by this book. Although all my diving into research couldn’t lead me to conclude that Brautigan is anyone who deserves the reverence Green ascribes him (and indeed probably deserves quite a bit less), I have to give her credit for making me interested in finding out more, seeking beyond her words in the hope I might find that same thing that captivated her as a child and still, apparently, captivates her today.
Green’s writing is crisp and clear, nostalgic without being alienating. It’s an honest memoir that traverses time in a leisurely fashion, in no particular rush to get anywhere in particular, not unlike Alison and Arline’s road trip through the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, this mood carries all the way through the book to the end, and like most road trips it ends not with the ang of a climax but a resigned sigh as it dawns on you that you still have to unpack the trunk and do all the laundry. Because this is a memoir, I find that particularly fitting, and given that it’s a brisk read, I’d recommend this book to anyone looking for a strongly crafted memoir.
Green’s writing is crisp and clear, nostalgic without being alienating. It’s an honest memoir that traverses time in a leisurely fashion, in no particular rush to get anywhere in particular, not unlike Alison and Arline’s road trip through the Pacific Northwest. Unfortunately, this mood carries all the way through the book to the end, and like most road trips it ends not with the ang of a climax but a resigned sigh as it dawns on you that you still have to unpack the trunk and do all the laundry. Because this is a memoir, I find that particularly fitting, and given that it’s a brisk read, I’d recommend this book to anyone looking for a strongly crafted memoir.
leighkaisen's review against another edition
In her literary pilgrimage-centered memoir, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me, Allison Green explores the landscapes of Richard Brautigan, the author who impacted her most, as well as her own landscape of ancestry and personal histories. Following the path of Brautigan’s best known novel, Trout Fishing in America, Green and her partner Arline road trip from Washington to Idaho, retracing the steps of Brautigan’s narrator, who travels with a family much like his own, lending the Trout Fishing fiction an autobiographical lens.
Not familiar with Brautigan myself—(born too late, to reference Green’s recognition of Brautigan’s initially generational fame)—I became familiar with the voice of an author I have not read: his succinct, metaphorical and satirical writing style, often contrasting the great outdoors with American materialism and culture (“a creek is narrow like a line of telephone booths, and another is like a department store”). In many cases, his narrative distance is somehow right up next to the nearness of his words.
In a similar vein, Green’s writing is often succinct in observation, although not lacking beauty in description. From her family tree, to coming of age, to the objects and places we declare to hold meaning for us, Green glimpses her pilgrimage through a wide-angle lens, not only focusing on Brautigan, but on her own story that has brought her to this point. Green extends her own questions to larger wonderings of the collective “we”—offering tokens of symbolism, such as her grandmother’s bracelets or a faded, well-loved paperback, that beg to discover a broader context: “But isn’t that what readers do? We conjure our own writers of the books we love. We travel with them, argue with them, kiss them, turn away from them only to turn back and sigh in nostalgia over what they—and we—once were.”
The romantic reader in me hoped for a bigger build, a strong sense of author attachment laced with a bit of mystery, perhaps, all leading up to a defining burst of recognition. However, the author herself is aware she’s “more interested in sentences and paragraphs than in narrative momentum.” As a reader, I can be very patient, content with quiet narratives that follow language more than plot. Admittedly, though, sometimes I want both. Still, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me is a worthwhile wandering along a reader’s road, stopping along the way to consider what we leave behind, and what holds lasting power enough to remain with us.
Not familiar with Brautigan myself—(born too late, to reference Green’s recognition of Brautigan’s initially generational fame)—I became familiar with the voice of an author I have not read: his succinct, metaphorical and satirical writing style, often contrasting the great outdoors with American materialism and culture (“a creek is narrow like a line of telephone booths, and another is like a department store”). In many cases, his narrative distance is somehow right up next to the nearness of his words.
In a similar vein, Green’s writing is often succinct in observation, although not lacking beauty in description. From her family tree, to coming of age, to the objects and places we declare to hold meaning for us, Green glimpses her pilgrimage through a wide-angle lens, not only focusing on Brautigan, but on her own story that has brought her to this point. Green extends her own questions to larger wonderings of the collective “we”—offering tokens of symbolism, such as her grandmother’s bracelets or a faded, well-loved paperback, that beg to discover a broader context: “But isn’t that what readers do? We conjure our own writers of the books we love. We travel with them, argue with them, kiss them, turn away from them only to turn back and sigh in nostalgia over what they—and we—once were.”
The romantic reader in me hoped for a bigger build, a strong sense of author attachment laced with a bit of mystery, perhaps, all leading up to a defining burst of recognition. However, the author herself is aware she’s “more interested in sentences and paragraphs than in narrative momentum.” As a reader, I can be very patient, content with quiet narratives that follow language more than plot. Admittedly, though, sometimes I want both. Still, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me is a worthwhile wandering along a reader’s road, stopping along the way to consider what we leave behind, and what holds lasting power enough to remain with us.
leighkaisen's review
In her literary pilgrimage-centered memoir, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me, Allison Green explores the landscapes of Richard Brautigan, the author who impacted her most, as well as her own landscape of ancestry and personal histories. Following the path of Brautigan’s best known novel, Trout Fishing in America, Green and her partner Arline road trip from Washington to Idaho, retracing the steps of Brautigan’s narrator, who travels with a family much like his own, lending the Trout Fishing fiction an autobiographical lens.
Not familiar with Brautigan myself—(born too late, to reference Green’s recognition of Brautigan’s initially generational fame)—I became familiar with the voice of an author I have not read: his succinct, metaphorical and satirical writing style, often contrasting the great outdoors with American materialism and culture (“a creek is narrow like a line of telephone booths, and another is like a department store”). In many cases, his narrative distance is somehow right up next to the nearness of his words.
In a similar vein, Green’s writing is often succinct in observation, although not lacking beauty in description. From her family tree, to coming of age, to the objects and places we declare to hold meaning for us, Green glimpses her pilgrimage through a wide-angle lens, not only focusing on Brautigan, but on her own story that has brought her to this point. Green extends her own questions to larger wonderings of the collective “we”—offering tokens of symbolism, such as her grandmother’s bracelets or a faded, well-loved paperback, that beg to discover a broader context: “But isn’t that what readers do? We conjure our own writers of the books we love. We travel with them, argue with them, kiss them, turn away from them only to turn back and sigh in nostalgia over what they—and we—once were.”
The romantic reader in me hoped for a bigger build, a strong sense of author attachment laced with a bit of mystery, perhaps, all leading up to a defining burst of recognition. However, the author herself is aware she’s “more interested in sentences and paragraphs than in narrative momentum.” As a reader, I can be very patient, content with quiet narratives that follow language more than plot. Admittedly, though, sometimes I want both. Still, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me is a worthwhile wandering along a reader’s road, stopping along the way to consider what we leave behind, and what holds lasting power enough to remain with us.
Not familiar with Brautigan myself—(born too late, to reference Green’s recognition of Brautigan’s initially generational fame)—I became familiar with the voice of an author I have not read: his succinct, metaphorical and satirical writing style, often contrasting the great outdoors with American materialism and culture (“a creek is narrow like a line of telephone booths, and another is like a department store”). In many cases, his narrative distance is somehow right up next to the nearness of his words.
In a similar vein, Green’s writing is often succinct in observation, although not lacking beauty in description. From her family tree, to coming of age, to the objects and places we declare to hold meaning for us, Green glimpses her pilgrimage through a wide-angle lens, not only focusing on Brautigan, but on her own story that has brought her to this point. Green extends her own questions to larger wonderings of the collective “we”—offering tokens of symbolism, such as her grandmother’s bracelets or a faded, well-loved paperback, that beg to discover a broader context: “But isn’t that what readers do? We conjure our own writers of the books we love. We travel with them, argue with them, kiss them, turn away from them only to turn back and sigh in nostalgia over what they—and we—once were.”
The romantic reader in me hoped for a bigger build, a strong sense of author attachment laced with a bit of mystery, perhaps, all leading up to a defining burst of recognition. However, the author herself is aware she’s “more interested in sentences and paragraphs than in narrative momentum.” As a reader, I can be very patient, content with quiet narratives that follow language more than plot. Admittedly, though, sometimes I want both. Still, The Ghosts Who Travel with Me is a worthwhile wandering along a reader’s road, stopping along the way to consider what we leave behind, and what holds lasting power enough to remain with us.
gracemalizia's review
5.0
I picked up this book and didn't put it down until I was finished. Within moments, Allison Green had transported me into her memories, her road trip, and her fascination with a book I had never read and an author I had barely heard of. The beautiful stories of her childhood, woven with spectacularly crafted panoramas of a trip through Washington and Idaho, and vivid descriptions of people and places, some personal, some historical, engaged and enthralled me from cover to cover. Green's longing, almost palpable throughout, for a sense of belonging—to a generation, to a place, to a social or literary movement—pulls out an ache that never quite outgrows its place in teenaged minds and hearts. Simultaneously, her struggle to integrate her nostalgic love for Brautigan with an investigation of his problematic nature as a man and a writer is relatable for anyone who has created a hero for themselves only to later discover human flaws within. Intriguing, beautifully descriptive, and ultimately forgivable, Green's journey, both literal and literary, weaves together the parts of ourselves that are loveable and uncomfortable in a book that left me feeling like I saw something new.
hybridpubscout's review
3.0
Allison Green is skillful in building naturally beautiful scenes, drawing the reader into her thought processes, and thoughtfully critiquing the works of one of her favorite authors. I loved the scenes where she was introducing her partner Arline to places that were special to her, such as an old pioneer graveyard, as well as the meaningful landmarks from Brautigan's books.
The three-star rating is partially based on my feelings about Brautigan himself, and partially based on the (likely purposeful) discomfort I felt when reading this book as I was asked to sympathize with many of Green's own insecurities. I sympathized with her feeling of being born "between" generations, as well as her own ambivalence to Brautigan's misogyny, due to the fact that I am a fan of some problematic authors myself.
All I really knew about Brautigan was filtered through men who glorified him, Kerouac, and other beat-generation writers. Convincing me to be enthusiastic about him was an uphill battle, and ultimately didn't quite work out.
The three-star rating is partially based on my feelings about Brautigan himself, and partially based on the (likely purposeful) discomfort I felt when reading this book as I was asked to sympathize with many of Green's own insecurities. I sympathized with her feeling of being born "between" generations, as well as her own ambivalence to Brautigan's misogyny, due to the fact that I am a fan of some problematic authors myself.
All I really knew about Brautigan was filtered through men who glorified him, Kerouac, and other beat-generation writers. Convincing me to be enthusiastic about him was an uphill battle, and ultimately didn't quite work out.
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