My ultimate takeaway is quite clear: I'm going to put an end to reading literature penned by poets. I do have a penchant for poetry, and when the mood strikes, I indulge in it. However, attempting to cram it into the realm of literature often results in a laborious reading experience like this one.

Dillard indeed has a profound love for language and a certain way with it. I relish a book that compels me to look up words, and parts of this book were truly satisfying (thus the 2 stars). When the words managed to conjure up vivid, full-color feelings, moods, pictures, and scenes, it was quite remarkable. But ultimately, it gave off an air of pomposity and self-servingness.

I can't seem to get rid of the feeling that the author seemingly needed me to be aware that she was well-versed in every aspect of philosophy, literature, poetry, and art. She did this by peppering references to Greek and Russian literature, Aristotelian logic, art techniques, or arcane tidbits on almost every other page, all in an effort to showcase her depth of knowledge.

Regrettably, none of this added much substance to the book. Instead, it merely served as ornamental decoration on a rather flimsy story that seemed to exist solely to demonstrate how clever the author must be.

To make matters worse, the choppy sentence fragments and rhetorical questions, along with the lack of quotation marks (which, for me, is a definite sign of possible pretension), all contributed to my decision to give this book a hard pass.

Edit: As I perused other reviews to see if I was off the mark, I noticed that those who gave this book 4 and 5 stars had a tendency to lecture about philistines who supposedly don't know enough to appreciate how intelligent Dillard (and by extension, the reviewer) is. In a strange way, they ended up strengthening my argument. It's a hard pass for me.

For the first half or perhaps even a third of the book, I truly considered setting it aside. The writing style seemed rather awkward, and the prose appeared to be overly written. It was populated by characters that I simply didn't recognize, and it was framed around ideas rather than a proper plot. However, as I continued reading, certain phrases started to hit very close to home.

On the topic of modern life, on page 130, it was written, "She took pains to keep outside the world's acceleration." This really made me stop and think about how we are all constantly being pulled along by the fast pace of modern society.

Regarding material goods, also on page 130, it stated, "In the past few years she had let go her ties to people she did not like, to ironing, to dining out in town, and to buying things not necessary and that themselves needed care." This made me reflect on how we often accumulate so many things that don't truly bring us happiness.

When it comes to the perception of 'old', on page 142, it said, "At 32 he had begun the rocketry recalibration of what constitutes old people." This made me question our society's rigid definitions of age and how we view the elderly.

And finally, my own belief about the way most people view (or rather don't see) nature was echoed on page 205 with the question, "Would people look up more often [to see the night sky] if they had to pay?" This really made me think about how we often take nature for granted and don't truly appreciate its beauty.

There were indeed some truly beautiful passages within the book. However, for the most part, it was a rather dull and uninteresting read. It was centered around a group of bougie people residing on Cape Cod. Their lives, which were supposed to be the focal point of the story, failed to capture my attention. I found myself unable to truly invest in or care about the characters. Their actions and experiences seemed rather mundane and unrelatable. Despite the occasional glimmer of beauty in the writing, the overall narrative fell flat for me. I had hoped for a more engaging and captivating story, but unfortunately, this book did not deliver.

Ugh... Dillard claims that she has no intention of writing another book like this one. In her view, this is the finest work she has ever created. She trimmed the manuscript from over 1000 pages to its current state. However, for my taste, it is far too fragmented and concise.

原本这可能是一个关于爱情如何随着人而改变的有趣故事。但这种写作方式使得人们很难专注于故事情节和人物。

The way she wrote it made it difficult to engage with the narrative and the characters. It seems that in the process of cutting it down, some of the depth and flow were lost.

I really wanted to like this book, as the premise was quite appealing. But unfortunately, the execution didn't meet my expectations.

Maybe if she had taken more time to develop the story and flesh out the characters, it would have been a more satisfying read. As it stands, it feels rushed and incomplete.

Annie truly has a remarkable way with words.

Perhaps it's just my personal experience, but for certain words - words such as halyard, pauciloquoys, culch, mesoglea, spicules, and littoral - I found myself constantly relying on the American Heritage Dictionary, fourth edition. It was faithfully by my side, ready for me to refer to frequently.

What a stroke of good fortune it was then to notice that Annie Dillard happened to be on that very dictionary's usage panel. After all, why shouldn't a novel not only stretch one's vocabulary but also engage one's heart, mind, and imagination?

However, I was completely stumped when it came to "palpating mastitis in zebus". I even tried googling it, but all I got were incomprehensible (at least to me) hits like "improving the reproductive management of dairy cattle". Clearly, Annie and I have very different reading preferences.

From James Davidson (read his full review at amazon.com. It's terrific.)

I have to admit that I thought this book was dreadfully boring. It was a little too ethereal for my taste. The story seemed to float in a realm that was beyond my comprehension, and I struggled to connect with it on any level.

The characters, too, failed to capture my interest. They lacked depth and personality, and I never really cared what happened to them. I found myself skimming through the pages, hoping for something to happen that would grab my attention, but it never did.

In conclusion, this book was not for me. It may have its merits for those who enjoy a more abstract and philosophical style of writing, but for me, it was a disappointment. I would not recommend it to others.

This is a book that I will surely remember.

To be honest, the initial one-third of the book was rather a struggle to get through, and I do have several complaints. However, overall, it is a beautiful story.

It offers an introspective and captivating exploration of life, love, and death.

In my opinion, we come to know the characters in a novel through three means: what they do, what they say, and what they think. This book places a great emphasis on the latter. Given what I know about Annie Dillard (an introspective recluse), this is not unexpected.

Despite my high esteem for this novel, I do have a few gripes, and most of them pertain to the first third of the novel. Primarily, it is extremely difficult to read. This is due to a peculiar grammar and punctuation. Additionally, she employs some obscure and sometimes seemingly inappropriate vocabulary and quotations.

But all in all, it is a very memorable book.

I can't say I loved or hated this book.

It is painfully beautiful. The story is indeed painful to read, and Dillard's exquisite writing exacerbates this pain. I read most of it on a train journey from Seattle to Portland in the March rain. The experience was visceral. I couldn't finish it on the train, and when I finally completed it at home, I was at a loss for words to describe my feelings.

The writing is simply beyond praise. However, I was vaguely dissatisfied with some aspects of the characters and the plot. Dillard uses her story to pose, dissect, and leave unanswered profound questions about love, longevity, reality, and human nature, and she does it brilliantly. But there are certain elements of the story, particularly the ending, that didn't quite strike a chord with me... or so I think.

I will be revisiting this book again this year, now that I know the plot and am better prepared for it. I haven't had such a strong emotional reaction to an unexpected event in a story since Leslie or Rab or Beth or Dan & Little Ann died. Although physical death isn't the plot twist in this story, Dillard's twist elicits that gut-wrenching emotional response that you sometimes have to a deeply moving work of fiction.

It's an incredibly worthwhile read, both for the beauty of the prose and the poignancy of the story. Dillard makes you feel, and while I might be disturbed by the particular feelings this story evokes, it is powerfully crafted by one of the most brilliant minds.

I truly relished this book. It doesn't measure up to Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, yet very few works do. I firmly believe that Dillard's finest creations are her non-fiction pieces, but that almost poetic descriptive prowess benefits her greatly in this work as well.

The storyline is rather loose. This concise novel chronicles the lives of Lou and Toby Maytree throughout their lifetimes in a mere 200 pages. Their lives are not of the "important" variety; instead, they are ordinary and commonplace. However, in Dillard's deft hands, this prompts deeper contemplations about the meaning of it all.

Perhaps it's simply due to my advancing years, but I found her treatment of growing old, losing friends, and the impermanence of our worldly pursuits (such as they are) to be thought-provoking. Her descriptive writing serves to encourage reflection. Dillard's work compels me to ponder fundamental and likely unanswerable questions regarding existence.

And... wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all possess Lou's gracious, friendly, forgiving, and kind-hearted nature.

It is truly very pretty. However, there is an unexpected theme that emerges: men ain't shit. This rather bold and perhaps controversial statement seems to suggest a certain perception or experience related to men. It makes one wonder what could have led to such a conclusion. Maybe it's based on personal encounters, observations, or a general sense of disappointment. While it might be a bit of a generalization, it does raise some interesting questions about gender dynamics and relationships. Do men always fall short in certain aspects? Or is this just a one-sided view? It's a thought-provoking theme that invites further exploration and discussion.

I really wanted to take a closer look and see if it appeared as if she was colliding with a wall of light or whatever it was that she described in her little darn writing book when she penned this.

To be honest, I do see it. There are numerous beautiful sentences within it. However, there are also many unkind remarks made about Maine.

How could she dare to say that Maine has a class system that Massachusetts does not? It's quite astonishing.

Maine is a wonderful state with its own unique charm and characteristics.

Making such unfounded comparisons and negative statements is really quite unfair.

We should respect and appreciate the individuality of each place rather than making unkind and inaccurate remarks.

Perhaps she should have done more research or had a better understanding before writing such things.

It's important to be objective and considerate when expressing our thoughts and opinions.

Overall, while the writing may have some beautiful aspects, the unkind remarks about Maine really detract from its value.

The Maytrees is a truly curious book.

The storyline is rather sparse, almost serving as a mere gossamer vehicle for the prose, which is filled with the grandiloquence of language. I wasn't overly bothered by the non-linearity of the narrative. However, at times, I was indeed annoyed by the inconsistencies in the timeline. Her sentences are staccato, varying from the caliginous to the nacreous to the opaque. I wasn't bothered by the extensive vocabulary, although it is vast. But I was bothered by some of the unusual, perhaps even wrong, usage. She is, incontrovertibly, an unrequited and unrepentant sesquipedalian.

I was bothered by the professed search for the quiddity without any reference to reality. Her questions about love showed her to be less of an exegete than one might have hoped, seeking satori but instead finding banality. I wasn't bothered by the frequent use of metaphor, but some of them were as thick as pabulum, with jarring juxtapositions and bizarre imagery.

Her language, designed to have an effect, more often than not reflected affect. The prose is lyrical, but I'm not entirely sure that I always enjoyed, or even understood, the lyrics being sung.

Yet, despite all of this, it was occasionally beautiful, moving, touching, and lovely. There were moments when the words would dance on the page and create a vivid and enchanting scene that would tug at the heartstrings. It was a book that had its flaws, but also its redeeming qualities.