As a student deeply immersed in the world of nonfiction, I am perpetually aware of the fascinating contrast that can exist between an author's voice, that perceptible personality that shines through the words, and the very ideas they are expressing.

For instance, when delving into _Best American Essays_, I often encounter unappealing voices - perhaps stuffy or self-satisfied - presenting smart and worthwhile concepts. In other words, I find myself drawn to the thinking itself but not necessarily to the thinker.

However, with _Pilgrim_, my experience was markedly different. I absolutely loved - and I mean loved - the author's voice, even when I didn't always have the same affinity for what was being said. You see, I'm not particularly fond of nature writing. Sentence after sentence of observations about birds and bugs that the author finds utterly fascinating often leaves me a bit cold. But there was something about the writer herself that I couldn't help but enjoy. I felt a sense of pleasure and privilege in her company.

The sections of the book that truly stunned me, much like nature stuns Dillard, were the meditative passages. Here, with her writerly fingers, she probes the crazy beautiful brutality of existing in our world. In the afterward, she states that she doesn't view the book as an essay collection. While that category might seem too restrictive or overly polished for her aesthetic, I firmly believe that the constant weighing, wondering, and wandering are the very essence of essay writing. And it is this inquisitive, spirited voice that remains, welcome and vivid, in my mind.

I lied. This is actually the worst book ever.

The author seems to be a wannabe of Walden but has failed miserably.

The story lacks depth and coherence. The characters are one-dimensional and uninteresting.

The writing style is平淡无奇 and fails to engage the reader.

It feels like the author is trying too hard to imitate the style of Walden but without the same talent and vision.

Overall, this book is a disappointment and a waste of time. I would not recommend it to anyone.

  And I have often noticed that even a few minutes of this self-forgetfulness is tremendously invigorating. I wonder if we do not waste most of our energy just by spending every waking minute saying hello to ourselves.

Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, which is a half-century old this year, is a remarkable work. It is a restless and yearning feat of observational prowess. With its "excited eloquence" and "metaphysical boldness," the book, which Dillard began writing at the age of twenty-seven, is filled with intense curiosity and reverent care for the natural world. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek treads softly but gazes intently, and it spills from its pages an abundance of wonder, awe, joy, self-reflection, humility, grace, gratitude, and piety. It has the power to rouse or reawaken even the laziest and most lackluster reader.

  A kind of northing is what I wish to accomplish, a single-minded trek towards that place where any shutter left open to the zenith at night will record the wheeling of all the sky's stars as a pattern of perfect, concentric circles. I seek a reduction, a shedding, a sloughing off.

It is rare to encounter a writer with such depth of feeling and thinking, let alone one who possesses such an enchanting style. Perhaps the most notable aspect of Dillard's work is her patience, which she displays repeatedly. Whether she is spying on creaturely habits in motionless enthrall, in search of arduously uncovered truths, or in a state of reflective ecstasy over singular and sweeping moments, Dillard's patience shines through. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a marvelous book, and like the very best of books, it bestows upon its reader a sense of things far grander and more exquisite than the mundanity of daily life otherwise reveals or encourages.

The death of the self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. It is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. It is merely the slow cessation of the will's sprints and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with stilled tongue.
Fuge, tace, quiesce.
The waiting itself is the thing.

Annie Dillard's attention to detail is truly astonishing.

Her ability to find delight in the ordinary and appreciate beauty in the simplest of things is something that sets her apart.

I often wish that I could have the eyes to see the world through her perspective, even if it were just for a fleeting moment.

However, as George Eliot once said, "If we had a keen vision and feeling of all ordinary human life, it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel’s heart beat, and we should die of that roar which lies on the other side of silence."

This makes me realize that perhaps I couldn't handle the intensity of seeing the world as Dillard does.

I definitely couldn't bring myself to sit beside a copperhead, spend hours in stillness stalking muskrats, or watch a giant water bug decimate a frog.

But despite this, I thoroughly enjoyed reading about her experiences and the unique way in which she views the world.

It gives me a newfound appreciation for the beauty that surrounds us every day, even if we don't always notice it.

This book about Tinker Creek contains numerous fascinating facts and impressions of nature and the creatures that inhabit it. It offers a unique perspective on the beauty and wonder of the natural world. However, it also has its drawbacks. The author often indulges in long and tedious flights of self-centered and self-indulgent existential angst, which can be rather tiresome for the reader.

Despite these flaws, the book does have some redeeming qualities. It has inspired me to look more closely at nature and the very small details that we often overlook. It has made me realize the importance of observing and appreciating the world around us. Overall, I am glad that I borrowed this book rather than bought it. It was an interesting read, but not one that I would necessarily recommend to others.

Listening to this was like a spiritual exercise, one that I wasn't particularly adept at but aspired to be. Just as with Mary Oliver's essays, I found myself immersed in Dillard's perspective of the natural world. I was envious of her attention to detail, yet unable to imitate it, even in my listening. As the book progressed, however, I felt my own attention being molded to some extent as I became more accustomed to the abundance of details and the slow cadence of the text.

Chapter 6 marked a bit of a turning point, perhaps not in the book itself, but in the way I engaged with it. Here, Dillard contemplates how self-consciousness causes the object of one's contemplations to disappear. Listening to this, I realized that during the long, detailed descriptive passages about various plants and creatures, I had been waiting for the moments when Dillard would self-consciously reflect on what she had witnessed. In essence, my anticipation of such reflection disrupted her observations even before she did. Her reflections are often striking and fascinating - and these are the parts (when she ponders the self, God, mortality, violence, beauty) that I would be inclined to quote. But their impact is diminished without the preceding accumulation of specific details - and the details themselves become trivialized if they are solely used for that purpose.

So while I continued to relish the reflective portions, I endeavored to anticipate them less and instead immerse myself in, for example, the particulars of a praying mantis or monarch butterfly. Dillard herself does not disappear from the page; rather, she remains both physically and mentally present throughout her observations (I especially adored the part about her stalking muskrats).

There are other, better passages to excerpt, but again, they lose some of their effectiveness without the preceding observations. So I'll settle for this lengthy one from that turning point in Chapter 6:

"The second I become aware of myself at any of these activities, looking over my shoulder as it were, the tree vanishes, uprooted from the spot and flung out of sight as if it had never grown. And time, which had flowed down into the tree bearing new revelations like floating leaves at every moment, ceases. It dams, stills, stagnates. Self-consciousness is the curse of the city and all that sophistication implies. It is the glimpse of oneself in a storefront window, the unbidden awareness of reactions on the faces of other people - the novelist’s world, not the poet’s. I’ve lived there. I remember what the city has to offer; human companionship, major league baseball, and a clatter of quickening stimulus like a rush from strong drugs that leaves you drained. I remember how you bide your time in the city, and think, if you stop to think, 'next year, I’ll start living…next year I’ll start my life.' Innocence is a better world.

Innocence sees that this is it, and finds it world enough, and time. [...] What I call innocence is the spirit’s unselfconscious state at any moment of pure devotion to any object. It is at once a receptiveness and total concentration. [...] If you wish to tell me that the city offers galleries, I’ll pour you a drink and enjoy your company while it lasts; but I’ll bear with me to my grave those pure moments at the Tate (was it the Tate?) where I stood planted, open-mouthed, born, before that one particular canvas, that river, up to my neck, gasping, lost, receding into watercolor depth and depth to the vanishing point, buoyant, awed, and had to be literally hauled away. These are our few live seasons. Let us live them as purely as we can, in the present."

**"Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek": A Journey of Seeing and Spirituality**

The book "Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek" by Annie Dillard is a profound exploration that takes the reader on a journey through her experiences and thoughts. Dillard describes her pilgrimage to find God, which at first glance might seem off-putting to non-religious readers like myself. However, as I delved deeper into the book, I realized that her mention of religious concepts was an integral part of the narrative that added depth and complexity.

The recurrent hints of her search for God did initially disturb me, but I soon found that having a "shield" against these references made it unnecessary to constantly worry about them. In fact, I later came to understand that without these religious elements, the book would not have been able to reach the heights that it does.

The concept of the "tree with lights in it" is introduced in the chapter "Seeing" and is a powerful symbol of Dillard's unique way of seeing the world. Through her exploration of different ways of seeing, she shows us that there is more to the world than what meets the eye. She describes a way of seeing that involves a letting go, a suspension of judgment and reason, and a direct connection with the essence of things.

Dillard's writing is both lyrical and profound, and her words have the power to transport the reader to another world. She uses vivid imagery and metaphors to describe her experiences, making the book a joy to read. The Afterward provides valuable insights into her thinking and the创作 process behind the book, further enriching the reading experience.

In conclusion, "Pilgrim at Tinker's Creek" is a remarkable book that offers much to both religious and non-religious readers. It challenges us to look at the world in a new way, to question our assumptions and beliefs, and to open ourselves up to the mystery and wonder of life. I highly recommend this book to anyone who is interested in exploring the intersection of nature, spirituality, and human experience.

Wow. This book seriously reprogrammed how I think about the world.

It's truly astonishing. Before reading this book, my perspective on the world was rather limited and one-sided. But as I delved into its pages, I was introduced to a whole new set of ideas and concepts that completely transformed my way of thinking.

The author's unique insights and thought-provoking arguments made me question everything I had previously believed. It made me realize that there are multiple ways to view and understand the world, and that our preconceived notions can often blind us to the truth.

This book has opened my eyes to new possibilities and has inspired me to look at the world with a more open and curious mind. It has taught me to be more receptive to different perspectives and to embrace change and growth. I am truly grateful for having come across this book, as it has had a profound impact on my life and has forever changed the way I think about the world.

I read "Pilgrim" every year.

In high school, I had a rather unique way of keeping a diary. I wrote it as a series of letters to Annie Dillard. Oh, it was so gay!

"Pilgrim" is basically about a really intelligent young woman who wanders through the forest. As she does so, she contemplates nature, god, philosophy, and all those profound things.

It's like imagining Thoreau being reincarnated as a 24-year-old chick in the 70s. And let me tell you, it didn't win the Pulitzer Prize for nothing!

It's an excellent book to pick up when you're in that "none of this shit matters" mood. There are no celebrities to distract you. No references to pop culture. And definitely no boys to complicate things.

It's just you and the beautiful words and thoughts in the book, allowing you to escape and find some peace and inspiration.

This was not a badly written book.

However, it should not be forced upon poor innocent high school students!

I have had to read a lot of boring books in my high school career, but this tops them all.

Just when you thought something interesting was going to happen, she watches birds or something for hours.

True, there were moments of great beauty and her philosophy was not always crazed.

I respect her art and her view of the world, but she has even said that it's silly for schools to make 16 and 17-year-old kids read this book.

It should be left to the deeper, *tree-huggers* of the world.

Perhaps the author had good intentions, but the content is just not engaging enough for the average high school student.

There are so many other great books out there that could capture their attention and激发 their love for reading.

Forcing them to read a book that they find dull and uninteresting is not the way to go.

It's important to let students choose books that they are passionate about, so they can truly enjoy the reading experience and gain something from it.

Annie Dillard spends a significant amount of time observing muskrats. It's truly comforting to know that I'm not the only one with such a passion. During a recent bike ride, I happened to spot this little fellow and promptly sat down beside him.

He appeared to be perfectly at ease with my presence, so I took out my phone to record this wonderful occasion (longer HD version). What a lucky day it was!

You might also enjoy:

✱ Dawn Light: Dancing with Cranes and Other Ways to Start the Day

✱ A Sand County Almanac and Sketches Here and There

✱ Winter World: The Ingenuity of Animal Survival

✱ Summer World: A Season of Bounty

✱ The Hidden Life of Trees

✱ Under the Sea Wind

✱ The Edge of the Sea

✱ Lab Girl

What can one say about this book?

It took me an inordinately long time to read, perhaps longer than almost any other book I've ever picked up. And maybe the reason for this is that, to me, this book is not just a regular piece of writing. It's poetry, it's psalms, it's something more profound.

I consumed it in fits and starts, taking long breaks in between deep droughts of reading. I devoured it like a person who had been parched for water for far too long, not even realizing how much I needed it. It nourished my soul in ways I didn't even know I craved.

This book is filled with thoughts that are hard to fathom, yet often it's not necessary to fully understand them. Frequently, I would simply let the beautiful sounds and vivid images wash over me, without even attempting to understand them in a cognitive sense. Maybe this wasn't the most orthodox way to read it, but I have a hunch that Dillard wouldn't have minded.

Dillard's words are as lavish as the subject matter she explores. Her writing is chalk full of so much wisdom that it's almost难以置信 that she was only 27 when she penned this masterpiece. There truly is no other book quite like it.