

The new place interests you because it is not clear. The writing has changed, in your hands, and in a twinkling, from an expression of your notions to an epistemological tool. You hammer out reports, dispatch bulletins. At the end of the path, you find a box canyon. You make the path boldly and follow it fearfully. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory.

You wield it, and it digs a path you follow. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a woodcarver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. When you write, you lay out a line of words. If you are a patient and reflective reader, you’ll enjoy this book. The book is topped off with an essay on a stunt pilot and whose daring flying and the twists and turns he takes are an apt metaphor for writing. You begin to enjoy the metaphors, the quiet wit and the underlying message that being a writer is not an easy task.

You realize the wisdom and power of Dillard’s words. But then, you realize that it is a stream of consciousness kind of work and it begins to grow on you. My review: 4/5Īt first it seems that the writing is so random – various incidents and thoughts thrown together. Dillard taught for 21 years in the English department of Wesleyan University, in Middletown, Connecticut.Ī gregarious recluse, she is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
