Black Elk had spoken of the giving-away ceremonies practiced by his people in the springtime. Extra pemmican, extra furs, extra horses - these were not hoarded but given to those who had none or not enough. The joy of giving is more full when the gift is finer. This is because each thing owned takes a measure of spirit from the owner, and more spirit is paid out into finer things. To make a gift of these more prized things returns a fuller measure of spirit and power to the giver's body.

When the mental echo of Thomas's leaving had had time to abate.

Thoreau said the body is the first student of the soul, and if the soul is stirred in anger, the body learns to throw tantrums. Henry's father had always cautioned him that if he became angry, count to ten, and if still angry, count to a hundred, and if still angry, count to a thousand.

He believed it was more likely the Buddhist monks had it right: Keep your eye on what's for supper. In certain Buddhist monasteries, the highest position of reverence was that of the tenzo, who was essentially the gardener and cook, delighting in preparing and serving meals to others.

One can imagine nothing more tiresome and profitless than sitting down and thinking of oneself.

A thing easily gained is a thing easily tossed off.

There is a nice poem on page 247.

It took me a while to truly engage with this book. The writing style is indeed more demanding compared to most novels I've read recently. I made a conscious effort to read slowly and stay focused,生怕 I would miss any crucial details.

Gradually, I became more accustomed to it and was able to read more pages in one sitting. This is not a book that can be rushed through like many best-sellers.

This book is targeted at thinking individuals who are willing to accept that Henry Stuart, with his long white beard and no shoes, is not a crazy man but a deep-thinking soul. He is striving to live his life "in concert with others, if not being outright helpful, at least not causing harm." This understanding, that a life lived in this way allows one to die well, is something he has yet to fully grasp for much of the book, and this forms the core of the story.

For a significant portion of the book, I found Henry rather frustrating and wanted to shout at him to change his ways and relax once in a while. However, by the time I reached the last chapter, I was reading with tears in my eyes and felt a great deal of admiration for his learning process and how far he had come.

My favorite aspect of this book is that as Henry goes about his daily life, events occur that remind him of something he had read and found meaningful. The author skillfully presents these connections for us, and thus we encounter Tolstoy, Rilke, Emerson, Dickinson, Frost, Black Elk, Jesus, Peter, and John, among others, all quoted with love and significance. This gives the book a definite literary merit, yet it never comes across as pretentious or inaccessible. I really liked that.

Many reviewers of this book have objected to Henry's lifestyle and selfishness. However, if you can suspend your judgment until the climax and the resolution, it will all prove to be satisfying and enlightening.

In conclusion, this is a great book.

On one of my Thursday afternoon local library trips, this book truly stood out to me.

I was immediately intrigued by the older gentleman protagonist. As I have shared in other reviews, I have been delving into a plethora of stories lately that feature older protagonists.

Perhaps I am unconsciously trying to tell myself something profound. Or maybe I am revealing a part of myself through my reading choices. Or perhaps I am simply drawn to the beautiful idea that at any age, we have the opportunity to discover that we are capable of achieving anything.

No matter what stage of life we are in, there is always potential for growth and new beginnings.

Even the author’s dedication is truly inspiring.

“This book is dedicated to four people who prove to me that getting old does not mean winding down.”

Isn’t that just beautiful?

The four people he chose in his dedication were individuals who were 92, 80, 80+, and 73. Obviously, his point was crystal clear – that anything is possible at any age, especially in the advanced years.

And, so, it is the same with Henry Stuart, the protagonist of this story. In 1925, at the age of 67, he learns that he is terminally ill with tuberculosis. Instead of wallowing in self-pity and lamenting his diagnosis, readers are treated to the heartwarming sight of Henry taking off his boots and walking home barefoot in the rain.

Doesn’t that just put a smile on one’s face?

In the style of Tolstoy, his strongest influence, Henry makes a bold decision. He decides to leave everything he knows – his Idaho home, his two sons, his friends – and embark on a new journey to Fairhope, Alabama, presuming that it will offer him an uncomplicated life.

Why not? It seems like the perfect opportunity for him to have a simple, final exit from his own life. He plans to build a round cottage for himself, become self-sufficient, discover his inner self, and then peacefully pass away.

But, as we all know, life has a way of throwing unexpected curveballs. And that’s exactly what happens to Henry. Something more occurs, something that will touch the hearts of readers and teach and inspire them in ways they never thought possible.

This is what makes this story truly special and a must-read for anyone looking for a touching and thought-provoking tale.

In the words of Dylan Thomas, “Do not go gentle to that good night,/ Old age should burn and rage at close of day;/ Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Henry James Stuart was precisely such a person. He didn't pass away gently; instead, he lived and faced death on his own terms. Some might argue that he managed to outwit death for a while, although he would be the first to admit that death is ultimately the victor.

What we can glean from Henry Stuart is far more about life than about death. He was an astonishingly complex yet unbelievably simple man. He made tough decisions that others could scarcely fathom, but he remained true to his belief that all men are part of God and His plan and cannot be separated from Him. He found joy in being a small part of a great machine, understanding that the machine wouldn't function smoothly without each cog doing its job.

There is a tendency to compare Stuart to Thoreau. If you've read Walton, the connection is inescapable. He went into the woods, constructed his own unique home, and secluded himself from others for a time to commune with nature and his own inner self. In doing so, he refined his soul into something that shone brightly from his head to his bare feet. However, unlike Thoreau, his experiment was solely for himself, with no intention of sharing the results with others, as he had received a terminal diagnosis from a doctor in Idaho. And, unlike Thoreau, he didn't set the boundaries of his exile; they were set for him by the awakening of his soul and the discovery of the meaning of his life.

I found this to be an amazing story. It was no doubt a blend of fiction and fact, for while Henry did live, build, and thrive at Tolstoy Park in Alabama, the fact that he deliberately didn't keep a journal during this period makes it impossible for anyone to know exactly what his thoughts and feelings were. That, however, matters little. His life alone reveals something about him, and Sonny Brewer should be extremely proud of the way he has filled in the gaps and given this story a depth of both emotion and intellect that is superbly executed.

I have rarely wanted to preserve so many quotations from a text. Besides his own perceptive observations, Mr. Brewer has quoted some of the greatest minds in literature and seamlessly integrated them into the tale he has crafted. It is as beautiful and intricate as the handwoven rugs of Henry Stuart or as the countless creations of a God of infinite possibilities.

For an example of the beauty of language:
Sleep rolled over Henry like a fog over the marshes at the headwaters of Mobile Bay, and his mind was still and quiet as the silver mist under a windless sickle of moon and the arcing of the stars in Leo.

Or of thought:
But now he felt better the intimate connection between all people, and most important, a common mortality. If there was any way at all to feel deep inside some kinship with the strangers who constitute humanity, it would have to be accomplished in the single knowledge that we will all die.

A truth that takes on new meaning the closer and closer we approach the inevitable. And, yes, I speak from experience.

What a wonderful way to conclude my year of reading. I hope it portends well for all the great books I might discover in 2018.