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A review by cdlindwall
An American Childhood by Annie Dillard
5.0
Whenever I come across a book I love this much, it's difficult to find anything to say. Any description I could give, any metaphor I could use, any sad cliched reaction ("Oh that was breathtaking") sounds pathetic in attempting to somehow convey how brilliant this book was and deserves to be recognized as.
But, with that being said, I will try:
Dillard makes me nostalgic for something I can't even quite put my finger on. She takes what would be the mundane in any less skilled writer's hands and weaves it into this profound illustration of what it means to be a child, to grow, to become aware, to live. Her prose allow for both the 12 year old, rambling, eager, spirited, aspect of Dillard to peer through, but with the keen wisdom of her current self so fondly looking back, reminiscing, smiling. She wants the reader to come, glimpse in at her story, laugh with her, remember with her. And this I do. But more importantly, her memoir has left me in a dizzy state of remembering my own stories, my own childhood, my own memories and hardships and realizations.
It was beautiful and tragic and alarmingly poetic. And I have nothing else to say except to quote Ms. Dillard with one of my favorite lines:
"Who could ever tire of this heart-stopping transition, of this breakthrough shift between seeing and knowing you see, between being and knowing you be? It drives you to a life of concentration, it does, a life in which effort draws you down so very deep that when you surface you twist up exhilerated with a yelp and a gasp."
But, with that being said, I will try:
Dillard makes me nostalgic for something I can't even quite put my finger on. She takes what would be the mundane in any less skilled writer's hands and weaves it into this profound illustration of what it means to be a child, to grow, to become aware, to live. Her prose allow for both the 12 year old, rambling, eager, spirited, aspect of Dillard to peer through, but with the keen wisdom of her current self so fondly looking back, reminiscing, smiling. She wants the reader to come, glimpse in at her story, laugh with her, remember with her. And this I do. But more importantly, her memoir has left me in a dizzy state of remembering my own stories, my own childhood, my own memories and hardships and realizations.
It was beautiful and tragic and alarmingly poetic. And I have nothing else to say except to quote Ms. Dillard with one of my favorite lines:
"Who could ever tire of this heart-stopping transition, of this breakthrough shift between seeing and knowing you see, between being and knowing you be? It drives you to a life of concentration, it does, a life in which effort draws you down so very deep that when you surface you twist up exhilerated with a yelp and a gasp."