Pilgrims

When I was sixteen my English teacher told me that my writing reminded him of Annie Dillard's.  I had no idea who she was, so I went out and bought a copy of, Pilgrim At Tinker Creek.  I was amazed, and humbled,  for my writing was nothing like that.  Since then, I've read all of Dillard's books, even the weird novel she wrote that I didn't really understand.  

Nobody liked that English teacher (Mr. Carney).  He was considered a slacker, a bad teacher.  His method was to sit at his desk at the front of the room and read the newspaper while his students wrote for the forty minute class period. He collected our writing, circled our errors, and wrote comments on it (some of them quite nasty).  He didn't teach us anything at all.  But, I think I learned how to write in his class.  He gave us the time and space to do it.  He was an interested reader, even though he laughed at most of what we wrote.  And, he introduced me to Annie Dillard.

I am reading a book right now that is the best thing I've come across since Pilgrim At Tinker Creek.   (My friend recommended it--thank, you, Marianna :-)  It's called, Wild Comfort:  The Solace of Nature, by Kathleen Dean Moore.  Moore's lyrical writing ties her experiences in nature to personal revelation.  What I like about the book is how clearly she offers these essays as her experiences and lessons learned.  There is an unspoken truth here:  yours and mine will be different.  We will touch different trees and be taught different things.  

Sometimes I am dismayed when I  love a book and recommend it to a friend, only to find that she doesn't like the book at all.  One book, two experiences.  (Of course, this might just mean that I have bad taste in books!)  Has this ever happened to you?