The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale
The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale__below
The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale__after

Book in Very Good Condition. The cover has a little wear. This book is free from writing/highlighting. Thank you for looking at this book.
See more
Sold by HP Fan Books and fulfilled by Amazon.
[{"displayPrice":"$11.70","priceAmount":11.70,"currencySymbol":"$","integerValue":"11","decimalSeparator":".","fractionalValue":"70","symbolPosition":"left","hasSpace":false,"showFractionalPartIfEmpty":true,"offerListingId":"%2Fhuy8CNH6Pn8ar%2F74hszqFUiTSbmhtvaSYYvugcZHsZnSR1Dvwz6ZHDzi7IzJEngEwgqkc6wcrit1i9VnGfFp2%2B7RVJkAP34kzJXEnjDReUDfaEEbxY2eVTkzjdX2Ub9HiLlg4Mnn%2F0AuOLktvWKig%3D%3D","locale":"en-US","buyingOptionType":"NEW"},{"displayPrice":"$8.40","priceAmount":8.40,"currencySymbol":"$","integerValue":"8","decimalSeparator":".","fractionalValue":"40","symbolPosition":"left","hasSpace":false,"showFractionalPartIfEmpty":true,"offerListingId":"lIjvrfdJ8nyjb4JMkaROWk1uUIAWQNEuwUtD4bkSsHiqkDXu96hQ2ZK34RmuyK9nozRfUIN7qFxclZm4h6HbzV3kezLDQGaLrLSfykNq7JZBpvQ8gLKxU7FoW3U%2Fp72D10xPVMnwqW6oUhGIlj6MehNjPvqZfl8Ma8EGFnewVNywtKM6JlbHEyKpKWOSLsIc","locale":"en-US","buyingOptionType":"USED"}]
$$11.70 () Includes selected options. Includes initial monthly payment and selected options. Details
Price
Subtotal
$$11.70
Subtotal
Initial payment breakdown
Shipping cost, delivery date, and order total (including tax) shown at checkout.
ADD TO LIST
Available at a lower price from other sellers that may not offer free Prime shipping.
SELL ON AMAZON
Share this product with friends
Text Message
WhatsApp
Copy
press and hold to copy
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Loading your book clubs
There was a problem loading your book clubs. Please try again.
Not in a club? Learn more
Join or create book clubs
Choose books together
Track your books
Bring your club to Amazon Book Clubs, start a new book club and invite your friends to join, or find a club that’s right for you for free. Explore Amazon Book Clubs
Great on Kindle
Great Experience. Great Value.

Great on Kindle
Putting our best book forward
Each Great on Kindle book offers a great reading experience, at a better value than print to keep your wallet happy.

Explore your book, then jump right back to where you left off with Page Flip.

View high quality images that let you zoom in to take a closer look.

Enjoy features only possible in digital – start reading right away, carry your library with you, adjust the font, create shareable notes and highlights, and more.

Discover additional details about the events, people, and places in your book, with Wikipedia integration.

View the Kindle edition of this book
Get the free Kindle app:
Enjoy a great reading experience when you buy the Kindle edition of this book. Learn more about Great on Kindle, available in select categories.
Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Frequently bought together

+
+
Choose items to buy together.
Buy all three: $41.48
$11.70
$13.49
$16.29
Total price:
To see our price, add these items to your cart.
Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Book details

Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Description

Product Description

From the author of the memoir Recollections of My Nonexistence, a personal, lyrical narrative about storytelling and empathy – a fitting companion to Solnit’s A Field Guide to Getting Lost
 
A finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award

In this exquisitely written book by the author of A Paradise Built in Hell, Rebecca Solnit explores the ways we make our lives out of stories, and how we are connected by empathy, by narrative, by imagination. In the course of unpacking some of her own stories—of her mother and her decline from memory loss, of a trip to Iceland, of an illness—Solnit revisits fairytales and entertains other stories: about arctic explorers, Che Guevara among the leper colonies, and Mary Shelley’s Dr. Frankenstein, about warmth and coldness, pain and kindness, decay and transformation, making art and making self. Woven together, these stories create a map which charts the boundaries and territories of storytelling, reframing who each of us is and how we might tell our story.

Review

"In her famously lyrical prose, Solnit writes about her own life, her family, and her reading, and she revisits the myths and ideas from art and history that have shaped her world."
--The New Yorker

"What Solnit offers us, I think, is the future of memoir. Not the story of the self . . . but the ways in which one''s story opens into other stories . . . literary nonfiction doesn''t get more beautiful and compelling."
--The American Scholar

"A beautiful and profound book of essayistic reflection on memory, family, grief, travel, and storytelling."
--The Millions

"The product of a remarkable mind at work, one able to weave a magnificent number of threads into a single story, demonstrating how all our stroies are interconnected."
--Bookforum  

"[A] brilliant, genre-refuting book. The power of The Faraway Nearby, as in Solnit''s previous writing, lies in its juxtaposition, its clusters of narrative nerves. . . . Solnit is a wanderer who collapses distance."
--San Francisco Chronicle  

About the Author

Writer, historian, and activist Rebecca Solnit is the author of seventeen books about environment, landscape, community, art, politics, hope, and feminism, including three atlases, of San Francisco in 2010, New Orleans in 2013, and New York in 2016;  Men Explain Things to Me;  The Faraway NearbyA Field Guide to Getting LostWanderlust: A History of Walking; and  River of Shadows: Eadweard Muybridge and the Technological Wild West (for which she received a Guggenheim, The National Book Critics Circle Award in Criticism, and the Lannan Literary Award). She is a columnist at  Harper''s and a regular contributor to  The Guardian. She lives in San Francisco.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

In Praise of Darkness (and Light)

One summer some years ago, on a peninsula jutting off another peninsula off the west coast of Iceland, I lived among strangers and birds. The birds were mostly new species I got to know a little, the golden plovers plaintively dissembling in the grass to lead intruders away from their nests, the oystercatchers who flew overhead uttering unearthly oscillating cries, the coastal fulmars, skuas, and guillemots, and most particularly the arctic terns. The impeccable whiteness of their feathers, the sharpness of their scimitar wings, the fierceness of their cries, and the steepness of their dives were all enchanting.

Terns were once called sea swallows for their deeply forked tails and grace in the air, and in Latin, arctic terns were named sterna paradisaea by a pietist Danish cleric named Erik Pontoppidan, at the end of a turbulent career. It’s not clear why in 1763 he called the black-capped, white-feathered arctic terns sterna paradisaea: birds -- or terns -- of paradise. He could not have known about their extraordinary migration, back in the day when naturalists -- and Pontoppidan himself in his book on Norway -- thought swallows buried themselves in the mud in winter and hibernated, rather than imagining they and other birds flew far south to other climes.

Of all living things, arctic terns migrate farthest and live in the most light and least darkness. They fly tens of thousands of miles a year as they relocate from farthest north to farthest south. When they are not nesting, they rarely touch ground and live almost constantly in flight, like albatrosses, like their cousins the sooty terns who roam above the equatorial seas for years at a time without touching down. Theirs is a paradise of endless light and endless effort. The lives of angels must be like this.

The far north is an unearthly earth, where much of what those of us in temperate zones were told is universal is not true. Everyone walks on water, which is a solid. In winter, you can build palaces out of it, or houses out of snow. Ice is blue. Snow insulates. Water crystallizes into floating mountains that destroy whatever collides with them. Many other things turn hard as rock in the cold. Nothing decays, and so time stops for the dead, if not the living. Cold is stability and warmth can be treacherous.

Trees dwindle; shrubs cling to the ground; and further north nothing remains of the plant kingdom but low grasses, diminutive flowers, mosses, and lichens hidden beneath the snow part of the year; and nearly every species but the reindeer and some of the summer birds is carnivorous. In winter, light can seem to shine upward from the white ground more than from the dark sky where the sun doesn’t rise or rises for an hour or two a day. And at the poles themselves, there are not 365 days per year but one long night and one long stretch of light, and the sun rises once in the spring and sets once in the fall.

Their opposite is the equator, where every day and every night of the year is exactly twelve hours long. The further north or south you go, the longer summer days and winter nights get. In Iceland, each day of spring was several minutes longer than the one before, so that in May the days went from nearly 17 to 20 hours long, and by June there is no true darkness, no night. The sun dipped low around midnight or after and there were spectacular sunsets that melted into sunrises, because the sun never went entirely away.

That summer among the terns, I lived at latitude 65, about as far north as Fairbanks, Alaska, and one degree south of the Arctic Circle. If you go farther north, to, say, the town of Longyearbyen in the Norwegian Arctic at latitude 78, which I later visited, the sun rises in late April and stays above the horizon until nearly the end of August, when sunset finally comes -- a few minutes before sunrise. There, winter is a night as long as that summer day, running from the end of October until the middle of February. The twenty-four-hour cycle of day and night we think of as normal and daily comes as a rush of rapidly changing days and nights, flickering like a strobe, between the great day and the great night that each lasts 1,000 hours or more.

Long ago, I had read about the white nights of St. Petersburg in Russia, at only 59 degrees north, and I had once spent a couple of weeks in the Canadian wilderness at that latitude near midsummer, when night was just a blush of darkness that generally began and ended while I was asleep in my tent. I had always wanted to see the white nights farther north, but actually living through them was a little disorienting.

In Praise of Darkness

Sometimes during that summer when the sky was often gray but never black, I would think that a task had to be done before darkness and then realize that there would be no more darkness while I was there, and it didn’t matter so much when I rose, when I slept, when I traveled. For me day and night were time itself, and I missed the rhythm and structure they provide. I missed stars. Darkness no longer shut me in: I shut light out to sleep. It was as though I had entered a landscape that itself never slept, never dreamed, that never let up the rational alertness of daytime, the light of interrogation and analysis.

The sensuality of night had never been so clear to me, darkness descending like velvet to wrap around you and enclose you in its black cocoon, to take you to your other self and others. In darkness dreams awaken and dreamers merge, which might be how passion becomes love and how making love begets progeny of all natures and forms. Merging is dangerous, at least to the boundaries and definition of the self. Darkness is generative, and generation, biological and artistic both, requires this amorous engagement with the unknown, this entry into the realm where you do not quite know what you are doing and what will happen next.

Creation is always in the dark because you can only do the work of making by not quite knowing what you’re doing, by walking into darkness, not staying in the light. Ideas emerge from edges and shadows to arrive in the light, and though that’s where they may be seen by others, that’s not where they’re born. But darkness is a pejorative in English, and the term has often carried emotional, moral, and religious overtones as has its opposite: the children of light, snowy angels, fair maidens, and white knights. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that,” said the dark-skinned Martin Luther King Jr., but sometimes love is darkness; sometimes the glare is what needs to be extinguished. Turn off the lights and come to bed.

When you spend time in the desert, you come to love shadow, shade, and darkness, the respite they give to the menacing blaze of day that burns you out and dries you up. Heat is the desert as predator, just as cold is the Arctic’s biggest animal. Desert light is fierce, and at midday it flattens everything into a harsh solid, but early and late in the day, light is golden and every crevice and fold and protrusion of the landscape is thrown into the high relief of light and shadow. At those times day and night intertwine like dancers, like lovers, and shadows are as powerful a presence as the things that cast them, or more so, growing and growing until the sun disappears below the horizon and darkness spreads like water on the land.

Journey to the Center

There was only one dark place left in Iceland that summer, or so it seemed to me, and I went there again and again. Elín Hansdóttir, a young artist who had been instrumental in the chain of coincidences that brought me to Iceland, had made a labyrinth titled Path. In a big room in Iceland’s National Gallery, with the help of two meticulous carpenters, she built a zigzag route of Sheetrock that gave off that material’s dusty clean aroma. One person at a time entered Path, and a pair of watchers in the outer gallery monitored entries and exits and occasionally went in for a rescue, like lifeguards.

When you stepped in from the daylight and the door closed behind you, the space seemed to be absolutely dark and then your eyes adjusted to the faint, faint light. You could move forward when you were blind or wait until you could see, but placing a hand on one side of the walls helped you travel too. The path turned at sharp angles, so that you knew that you were being turned around and around, and you lost track of the distance that you were going.

The light that leaked through the intentional, careful cracks in the walls and ceiling was faintly lavender blue -- it came from fluorescent tubes -- and it streamed across the space in strange ways. It was easy to believe that what was dark was solid, what was light was spaciousness into which you could move, but reality as you bumped into it was often the other way around, with open blackness and hard pale surfaces.

Your expectations reversed, you moved deeper into the labyrinth, knowing now that you did not know what was solid, what was space you could occupy, but would have to test it, over and over. Path was a space in which you perfected the art of not knowing where you were, of finding out one literal step at a time. Did the path fork? Or was there only one route? How far did it go? Was the way out the same as the way in? All this would have to be found with the hands, eyes, and feet as you traveled.

At the end, the walls began to press together and it was as dark as it had been at that first moment you stepped in and closed the door behind yourself. And then you could go no farther. It seemed as though it ought to feel claustrophobic, but I found in it an embrace of darkness, a destination, a handmade night. There and back again took me 10 or 15 minutes by the clock, but the time inside had no such quantifiable measure. It was time apart, symbolic time, a slow journey to the heart of the unknown and the unknowable. I kept coming back all summer, seven times in all, once for so long the attendants grew concerned. I felt at home there, more myself than anywhere else in Iceland, somehow. Jules Verne’s novel about Iceland was called Journey to the Center of the Earth, and this felt like such a journey, or such a center.

A labyrinth is an ancient device that compresses a journey into a small space, winds up a path like thread on a spool. It contains beginning, confusion, perseverance, arrival, and return. There at last the metaphysical journey of your life and your actual movements are one and the same. You may wander, may learn that in order to get to your destination you must turn away from it, become lost, spin about, and then only after the way has become overwhelming and absorbing, arrive, having gone the great journey without having gone far on the ground.

In this it is the opposite of a maze, which has not one convoluted way but many ways and often no center, so that wandering has no cease or at least no definitive conclusion. A maze is a conversation; a labyrinth is an incantation or perhaps a prayer. In a labyrinth you’re lost in that you don’t know the twists and turns, but if you follow them you get there; and then you reverse your course.

The end of the journey through the labyrinth is not at the center, as is commonly supposed, but back at the threshold again: the beginning is also the real end. That is the home to which you return from the pilgrimage, the adventure. The unpraised edges and margins matter too, because it’s not ultimately a journey of immersion but emergence.

Paths, Empaths, Journeys Into and Toward, By Touch and By Ear

If Path was a book, it was about not knowing, about being lost, and about darkness, the darkness of the deep interior, a book you read with your feet. Anatomists long ago named the windings of the inner ear, whose channels provide both hearing and balance, the labyrinth. The name suggests that if the labyrinth is the passage through which sound enters the mind, then we ourselves bodily enter labyrinths as though we were sounds on the way to being heard by some great unknown presence. To walk this path is to be heard, and to be heard is a great desire of the majority of us, but to be heard by whom, by what? To be a sound traveling toward the mind -- is that another way to imagine this path, this journey, the unwinding of this thread?

Who hears you? We live inside each other’s thoughts and works. You build yourself out of the materials at hand and those you seek out and choose, you build your beliefs, your alliances, your affections, your home, though some of us have far more latitude than others in all those things. You digest an idea or an ethic as though it was bread, and like bread it becomes part of you. Out of all this comes your contribution to the making of the world, your sentences in the ongoing interchange. The tragedy of the imprisoned, the unemployed, the disenfranchised, and the marginalized is to be silenced in this great ongoing conversation, this symphony that is another way to describe the world.

To hear is to let the sound wander all the way through the labyrinth of your ear; to listen is to travel the other way to meet it. It’s not passive but active, this listening. It’s as though you retell each story, translate it into the language particular to you, fit it into your cosmology so you can understand and respond, and thereby it becomes part of you. The word empathy originally meant feeling into, and to empathize is to reach out to meet the data that comes through the labyrinths of the senses. To enter into, we say, as though another person’s life was also a place you could travel to.

Kindness, compassion, generosity, are often talked about as though they’re purely emotional virtues, but they are also and maybe first of all imaginative ones. You see someone get hurt -- maybe they get insulted or they’re just very tired -- and you feel for them. You take the information your senses deliver and interpret it, often in terms of your own experience, until it becomes vivid to you. Or you work harder and study them to imagine the events you don’t witness, the suffering that is not on the surface.

It’s easier to imagine the experience of people most like you and nearest you -- your best friend, the person who just slipped on the ice. Through imagination and representations -- films, printed stories, second-hand accounts -- you travel into the lives of people far away. This imaginative entering into is best at the particular, since you can imagine being the starving child but not the region of a million starving people. Sometimes, though, one person’s story becomes the point of entry to larger territories.

This identification is almost instinctual in many circumstances. Even some animals do it; babies cry in sympathy with each other, or in distress at the sound of distress. But to cry because someone cries or desire because someone desires is not quite to care about someone else. There are people whose response to the suffering of others is to become upset and demand consolation themselves.

Empathy means that you travel out of yourself a little or expand. Recognizing the reality of another''s existence is the imaginative leap that is the birth of empathy, a word invented by a psychologist interested in visual art. The word is only slightly more than a century old, though the words sympathy, kindness, pity, compassion, fellow-feeling, and others covered the same general ground before Edward Titchener coined it in 1909. It was a translation of the German word Einfuhlung, or feeling into, as though the feeling itself reached out.

The root word is path, from the Greek word for passion or suffering, from which we also derive pathos and pathology and sympathy. It’s a coincidence that empathy is built from a homonym for the Old English path, as in a trail. Or a dark labyrinth named Path. Empathy is a journey you travel, if you pay attention, if you care, if you desire to do so. Up close you witness suffering directly, though even then you may need words to know that this person has terrible pains in her joints or that one recently lost his home. Suffering far away reaches you through art, through images, recordings, and narratives; the information travels toward you and you meet it halfway, if you meet it.

Few if any of us will travel like arctic terns in endless light, but in the dark we find ourselves and each other, if we reach out, if we keep going, if we listen, if we go deeper.

Reprinted by arrangement with Viking, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. from The Faraway Near by Rebecca Solnit.

Product information

Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Videos

Help others learn more about this product by uploading a video!
Upload video
Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Customers who bought this item also bought

Customer reviews

4.5 out of 54.5 out of 5
205 global ratings

Top reviews from the United States

Drema D
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Solnit’s ability to connect seemingly random and disparate elements amazed me, as did her insight
Reviewed in the United States on September 3, 2018
I don’t usually read memoirs. At least, I haven’t in the past. This is my second one in a month, and I have to say I may be changing my mind. Though I have to say that this isn’t exactly a memoir. It is, but not really. When you read it, you’ll see what I mean.... See more
I don’t usually read memoirs. At least, I haven’t in the past. This is my second one in a month, and I have to say I may be changing my mind. Though I have to say that this isn’t exactly a memoir. It is, but not really. When you read it, you’ll see what I mean.

From stories of her mother’s descent into Alzheimer’s to her own brush with cancer, the author weaves an intimate narrative about personal trauma and family relationships in such a way that we see the beauty amid the chaos, the poetry in the pain. Solnit’s ability to connect seemingly random and disparate elements amazed me, as did her insight. She seems to see right to the heart of things, touching the delicate pulse of truth beneath layers of superfluous camouflage with surprising power and sensitivity. More than once I would have sworn she was speaking directly to me; her words were that apropos to my own experience, that synchronistic to my own journey. Each time I felt her at my shoulder and had to put the book down for a while, so that I might fully absorb the impact of her words.

Throughout the book, Solnit demonstrates the importance in our lives of the stories we tell ourselves. With a true sense of artistry, she lays words like breadcrumbs that lead us toward understanding. Gently, she challenges us as readers to examine our own stories, to recognize their power to nurture love or fear, forgiveness or spite, empathy or anger, recovery or suffering. Her words coax us to believe that perhaps, if we are willing to see our stories for what they are and what they bring to our worlds, we can make new stories that bridge the extremes and lead to healing.

This is not an easy read. Its subject matter is far too thought-provoking. The Faraway Nearby is more a book to savor slowly, with a cup of tea or a glass of wine, perhaps on a quiet balcony or in a comfortable nook. And when you’ve finished it and put it down, keep it handy. It reveals itself in layers as you go, and will likely offer different insights with each pass, so you’ll want to read it again and again.
10 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Kindle Customer
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
"Stories are compasses and architecture; we navigate by them"
Reviewed in the United States on June 13, 2013
The Huffington Press has chosen this lilting book as the book they are "talking about this week.". It will certainly haunt me. The story that launches her current book is the loss of her mother to Alzheimer''s, step by awful step. In her attempt to frame this... See more
The Huffington Press has chosen this lilting book as the book they are "talking about this week.". It will certainly haunt me. The story that launches her current book is the loss of her mother to Alzheimer''s, step by awful step. In her attempt to frame this reality, she nests the narratives that her mother has told herself and her own responsive attempts to organize reality. Her mother had not been a warm, or often even kind.

With a deft hand, Solnit weaves the doors and windows through which she travels into a mesmerizing story. As a child, she was a solitary person, but found that " books are solitudes in which we meet." ( possibly my favorite sentence in the book.). She shares the stories that have helped her to shape her own life and have in turn inspired her own writings. She had decided early on to never refuse an adventure, and she shares a few she had taken as relief and growth as the burden of her mother grew.

Solnit also speaks of the ways in which our interior dialogues can trap us. They can tell us who to love or hate. "Not a few stories are sinking ships." She believes among these tales are the ones that stiffened and distanced her mother into jealousy and aloofness. Somehow, the author successfully weaves the story of Frankenstein and the history of his creator into a meaningful, and even necessary, part of her own discourse. Along the way, Solnit goes to the "country where many go much further and some don''t return." She has been diagnosed with breast cancer.

This is a literate book for the reader who loves a well crafted work. It is thoughtful, insightful, and even funny. It challenges the reader to evaluate one''s own internal script and to open for the constant change of every context. This is a book that fills the promise of solitudes meeting.
95 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
PracAdemic
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Great book of essays, disappointing as a memoir.
Reviewed in the United States on December 30, 2017
I''m a big fan of RS''s essays and well aware she can write circles around most people. I found this book disappointing in that it felt like she used three traumatic events (her mother''s descent into Alzheimers, her own preventative breast surgery, and the end of a long... See more
I''m a big fan of RS''s essays and well aware she can write circles around most people. I found this book disappointing in that it felt like she used three traumatic events (her mother''s descent into Alzheimers, her own preventative breast surgery, and the end of a long relationship) as a jumping off point for very learned and engaging, but quite impersonal, essays. She strikes me as someone who would welcome you into her house with the warmest of smiles, but then use stories in the most beguiling of ways, to keep you at a good, safe emotional distance.
5 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Dr. Richard M. Waugaman
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Ring Composition in Action!
Reviewed in the United States on March 8, 2015
One intriguing feature of the book that I have not seen mentioned in other reviews is its use of "ring composition." This is a pattern in epics throughout the ancient world, where the central message is found at the center, and the rest of the book constitutes two... See more
One intriguing feature of the book that I have not seen mentioned in other reviews is its use of "ring composition." This is a pattern in epics throughout the ancient world, where the central message is found at the center, and the rest of the book constitutes two symmetrical halves that mirror each other. Solnit announces this structure in the Table of Contents, where the chapter titles in the first half are echoed in reverse order in the second half.

The only unique chapter title is at the center-- "Knots." The chapters just before and just after the central one are titled "Wound" and "Unwound," respectively. At the center of the central chapter, where ring composition tells us we will find the key theme, Solnit writes of "cyclical time" influencing the spinning of a tale.

We can enjoy her book even if we do not notice this structure. But I''m delighted to see such a clear instance of a pattern described in ancient literature by an anthropologist, Mary Douglas, in Thinking in Circles.
http://www.amazon.com/Thinking-Circles-Essay-Composition-Lectures/dp/0300167857/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1425860268&sr=8-1&keywords=thinking+in+circles+an+essay+on+ring+composition
14 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Sherri Priestman
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Field Guide for Writers
Reviewed in the United States on November 11, 2018
I"m still reading this collection--part memoir, part history, part literary criticism, part everything else you can think of--because I stop constantly after a paragraph and think, deeply and long , about something Solnit has said. My own mother was not unlike Solnit''s, but... See more
I"m still reading this collection--part memoir, part history, part literary criticism, part everything else you can think of--because I stop constantly after a paragraph and think, deeply and long , about something Solnit has said. My own mother was not unlike Solnit''s, but I think it''s just that she is that kind of writer, one who combines enormous skill and knowledge with great heart and honesty. I love her. In my head I call her Rebecca, because her writing lets me feel that I know her. I would recommend this collection to anyone who cares about writing or who wants to write but also to anyone who likes to learn arcane bits of knowledge while being immersed in beautiful words. This is one of my favorite books, one I will buy for others.
2 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Josquin DesPrez
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
All of Rebecca Solnit''s books are great.
Reviewed in the United States on September 27, 2019
Solnit is a brilliant, deep thinker and this is one of her best books. I also HIGHLY recommend her book "A Paradise Built in Hell" I bought this from Amazon because I needed it faster, for a gift, than my local bookstore could get it, though I normally much prefer to buy... See more
Solnit is a brilliant, deep thinker and this is one of her best books. I also HIGHLY recommend her book "A Paradise Built in Hell" I bought this from Amazon because I needed it faster, for a gift, than my local bookstore could get it, though I normally much prefer to buy everything at my local bookstore, which is a beloved part of the community, not a community-destroying monster.
Helpful
Report
Judith T. Dancy
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
It''s beautiful, it''s not an easy read
Reviewed in the United States on January 25, 2018
Her writing is invitational. Unlike some who tell their stories as if their lives are linear, Solnit''s story says "pay attention- this is how life is for me". I suppose it may not ask for us to pay attention as a teacher would demand of her students, but more... See more
Her writing is invitational. Unlike some who tell their stories as if their lives are linear, Solnit''s story says "pay attention- this is how life is for me". I suppose it may not ask for us to pay attention as a teacher would demand of her students, but more gently, as a lover would say to her beloved. It''s beautiful, it''s not an easy read, but it''s so wroth reading.
3 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Stephen Persing
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Pain and pleasure
Reviewed in the United States on June 24, 2013
This book was billed in advance as similar to Solnit''s book A Field Guide to Getting Lost, but that is misleading. This book touches on more pain, and the threads that run through it tie the book together more completely as a whole instead of a collection of essays. I liked... See more
This book was billed in advance as similar to Solnit''s book A Field Guide to Getting Lost, but that is misleading. This book touches on more pain, and the threads that run through it tie the book together more completely as a whole instead of a collection of essays. I liked both books, but The Faraway Nearby feels a little more mature in its acknowledgment of the sorrows and hardships of life. As always, Rebecca Solnit writes with inspired prose that seems always on the edge of becoming poetry. A marvelous book.
36 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report

Top reviews from other countries

Gareth Osborne
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Never turn down an adventure
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on August 24, 2020
In this memoir and collection of essays, writer, historian, feminist and activist Rebecca Solnit writes: ‘The object we call a book is not the real book, but its potential, like a musical score or seed. It exists fully only in the act of being read; and its real home is...See more
In this memoir and collection of essays, writer, historian, feminist and activist Rebecca Solnit writes: ‘The object we call a book is not the real book, but its potential, like a musical score or seed. It exists fully only in the act of being read; and its real home is inside the head of the reader, where the symphony resounds, the seed germinates. A book is a heart that only beats in the heart of another Books are solitudes in which we meet’. I’m considering having that tattooed on my body somewhere someday. She is the author of seventeen books and I was drawn to this one after reading her essay collection A Field Guide to Getting Lost. One summer, Rebecca Solnit was given three boxes of ripening apricots, fruit from a neglected tree that her mother, gradually succumbing to memory loss, could no longer tend to. From this unexpected inheritance Solnit weaves together memoir, fairy tales and the lives of others into a meditation on the art of storytelling. She writes beautifully and philosophically about the complex and difficult relationship she had with her mother, having to be her ultimate carer without fully being ‘caught up in the currents of emotion’. I loved her ability to forensically break down a thought, a word, an item, into its component parts, discovering complex patterns and interconnections – apricots, her residency in Iceland at the Library of Water, leprosy, her mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s disease, Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, Che Guevara and Buddhism. Sometimes, she can be haughty, arrogant even, and I can understand how her relationship with her mother may have been mutually tense. But her moments of poetry more than compensate, affecting and effecting at the same time, the beauty outweighing all before it, as though she is holding your head in her hands and saying, ‘look, closely now – do you see?’ The bigness of the world is redemption. Despair compresses you into a small space, and a depression is literally a hollow in the ground. To dig deeper into the self, to go underground, is sometimes necessary, but so is the other route of getting out of yourself, into the larger world, into the openness in which you need not clutch your story and your troubles so tightly to your chest. Being able to travel both ways matters, and sometimes the way back into the heart of the question begins by going outward and beyond. This is the expansiveness that sometimes comes literally in a landscape or that tugs you out of yourself in a story’. Threading these thirteen essays together is a fourteenth, written across the pages of the book as a footer, so that, having read the book once, you have to go back to the start, turning pages quickly to read the last story as epilogue. It’s a story based on a scientific article which reveals that moths drink the tears of sleeping birds, and she then lists all the things which produce tears: pain, sorrow, loss, thwartedness, joy, pattern, meaning, depth, generosity, beauty, reunion, recovery, recognition and understanding, arrival, love, mortality, precision. All tears are stories that make and unmake, connect and disconnect us with ourselves and each other. They are our potential. They are for the late hours when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are. ‘It’s all in the telling. Stories are compasses and architecture; we navigate by them, we build our sanctuaries and our prisons out of them, and to be without story is to be lost in the vastness of a world that spreads in all directions…’ So when the opportunity for us to find direction arises, to make our own stories, it should be grasped, even if it brings tears. One should never turn down an adventure without a really good reason.
2 people found this helpful
Report
Laurie Melville
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
wonderful
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on September 19, 2019
What did you like? everything What did you dislike? nothing What did you use this product for? living
6 people found this helpful
Report
J. Atherton
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Got me thinking
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 4, 2021
I enjoyed reading some of this book which is a memoir and also a collection of essays. I found some of it hard work and felt myself drifting off. I listened to the author discuss this book and that helped understand it more. However I did find it quite educational and it...See more
I enjoyed reading some of this book which is a memoir and also a collection of essays. I found some of it hard work and felt myself drifting off. I listened to the author discuss this book and that helped understand it more. However I did find it quite educational and it did get me thinking.
Report
Kneale Grainger
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Approach with care.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on September 17, 2020
Sometimes good, sometimes obscure, always American.
One person found this helpful
Report
Amazon Customer
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Fantastic!
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on July 4, 2020
Fabulous book. What an amazing author. Really inspiring read.
Report
See all reviews
Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Customers who viewed this item also viewed

Brief content visible, double tap to read full content.
Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.

Explore similar books

Tags that will help you discover similar books. 15 tags
Results for: 
Where do clickable book tags come from?

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale

The online Faraway high quality Nearby online sale