I spent the entirety of April '24 reading Annie Dillard’s The Living. Dense but infinitely rewarding, The Living is a treat in every sense of the word. Dillard, for me, isn’t just an author. She is a teller of rich and vivid stories, an acute capturer of human emotions, a deliverer of stunning landscapes, and a straight-forward sayer of facts. This is my first novel by her, and her first fiction novel. Primarily a non-fiction author, I didn’t think she would move me with her words as much as she did. With no dialogue and heaps of descriptive text, I found myself completely immersed in the Pacific Northwest and its peoples’ lives in the latter half of 1800s.
Now, I look at Mt. Baker, visible from everywhere in this sprawling city, and think of Dillard’s characters who are very much plucked from real life. I look at the same skies her characters must have looked at >100 years ago. I sail across the same rivers they caught their halibuts and salmons in. And while the May (when I initially wrote this review) skies never quite cleared up, I still find solace in this paragraph:
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