Imprinted Life discussion

Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek muses on the nature around her home in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia.

Long ago, I read Dillard's An American Childhood, an autobiography set in Pittsburgh, PA, loving the narration of her youth spent in the library and carrying away something significant. It is with some surprise that the topic of nature (a non-urban setting) differs remarkably from the other. This book, too, is excellent, so far--very detailed about tiny animals in particular (starlings, spiders, praying mantises, Polyphemus moths...)--and is a refreshing alternative from the everyday cement landscapes and traffic experienced by many. Then there's her philosophical wisdom and figurative language in "Seeing":

Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.(33)

In "Winter", she notes that Eugene Schieffelin brought to America the many birds Shakespeare referred to in his Elizabethan plays. This book about Nature, published in 1974, is a nice change from detective mysteries, political thrillers, and other fiction.

Since I recently picked up again Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, it's better that I start from the very first chapter, 'Heaven and Earth in Jest', part of the phrase which she says comes from the Koran. She put Tinker Creek definitely in the real world of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia, remote from many of our concrete surroundings. But then, that is the beauty of this book. It's hard to tell she used to be a city dweller. Her lyrical words evoke the what, why, how, when, and who of nature, as she points out the things easily overlooked throughout the seasons. Beside the tangible things, she evokes the spiritual in nature as in the second chapter:

The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff(33)

The book gets better and better, and my having read the sixth chapter 'The Present' is the best one yet!

Birds like the mockingbird return with the first signs of "Spring" at Tinker Creek in the southern Appalachians near Roanoke. More significant is "why is birdsong beautiful?" than "how to decode the birdsong?"

Beauty itself is the language to which we have no say; it is the mute cipher, the cryptogram, the uncracked, unbroken code.(107)

In the silent woods, there is pulsing life in tiny newts (salamanders), leafing tulip trees, flowering locusts, and frogs in the duck pond.

In "Intricacy", the layers of complexity and the generous "extravagance" of creation in springtime overwhelm replication:

The creation in the first place is the only necessity...it accumulates in my mind as an extravagance of minutiae. The sheer fringe and network of detail assumes primary importance. That there are so many details seems to be the most important and visible fact about the creation.(129)

...not only did the creator create everything, but ...he is apt to create anything.(135)

Dillard observes what happens in springtime in the earth, the trees, the water, the insect egg-cases, and elsewhere with her eyes and microscope.

Dillard's poetic imagination adds metaphor to the facts from a walk through the woods. She also scientifically describes animals, minute and larger, then wonders how their strange, intricate behavior fits into the "texture" of the universe. Her first-hand account of swelling, swift Tinker Creek from Hurricane Agnes is also good.

When I read this book for the first time I was amazed at the poetry of Dillard's writing and her ability to fuel my imagination through her descriptions of what she finds at the creek. I've since read it a few more times and each time I find more in it that I'd not noticed the last time I read it. This book just gives and gives. A superb book.

Ellen wrote: "When I read this book for the first time I was amazed at the poetry of Dillard's writing and her ability to fuel my imagination through her descriptions of what she finds at the creek. I've since r..."

There's so much beauty and depth to her language; how can I extract every image from the abundant detail in a reading? Her single creation of this journal is part and parcel of Nature's bounty in intricate, illogical forms and happenings.

Asmah wrote: "Ellen wrote: "When I read this book for the first time I was amazed at the poetry of Dillard's writing and her ability to fuel my imagination through her descriptions of what she finds at the creek..."

I couldn't agree with you more, Asmah. Have you read any other books written by Dillard?

Ellen wrote: "Have you read any other books written by Dillard? ..."

"An American Childhood" set in Pittsburgh I enjoyed. The Maytrees and The Living might be worthwhile to read as well.

Hi, Asmah,

I have "The Maytrees" on my to-read list (an impossibly long list!). But I don't find "The Living" of much interest, surprisingly, because I generally do love Dillard's writing. But I really loved "An American Childhood" - What a great book! Thanks so much!

I'm reading Chapter 11, 'Stalking', her way of observing unobserved the rare instances of wildlife--Via negativa. She stands still and waits to see what fish, heron, insect, and muskrat come along. A description of Eskimos' thinning bone sewing needles and bird-skin undershirts is enlightening.

Annie Dillard's theme is 'What is' rather than 'What ought to be'. The beauty of nature obscures what really is happening, the tiny parasites (lice, spider, flea, ladybug, wasp, grub, bed-bug, beetle, cone-nose bug, stylop, moth, blowfly, maggot, and screw-worm) and the larger predators that disfigure living creatures:

...in a certain sense only the newborn in this world are whole, that as adults we are expected to be, and necessarily, somewhat nibbled. It's par for the course. Physical wholeness is not something we have barring accident; it is accidental, an accident of infancy, like a baby's fontanel or the egg-tooth on a hatchling.

It is now fall (Sept, Oct, Nov, Dec). The wildlife are restless, especially the migrating birds, fidgety to head northward or southward. It is the end of the year and the book:

The giant water bug ate the world. And like Billy Bray I go my way, and my left foot says "Glory," and my right foot says "Amen": in and out of Shadow Creek, upstream and down, exultant, in a daze, dancing, to the twin silver trumpets of praise.