Full disclosure: I did not read ALL the essays. However, the ones I read, I did enjoy.

This is not really my type of book. It is rather a dense reading, where you have to slow down and pay attention to detail because White is very witty.

It is an enjoyable slow read. The language used by White is rich and full of nuances, which requires the reader to be fully engaged.

Each essay seems to have its own unique charm, and although it may take some effort to understand, the reward is well worth it.

Even though it may not be to everyone's taste, I would still recommend it to those who are looking for a thought-provoking and intellectually stimulating read.

Overall, it is a book that makes you think and appreciate the beauty of language and wit.

The “Elements of Style” was and always will be what every writer should memorize.

These elements, namely who, what, where, when and why, are the fundamental building blocks of effective writing.

Knowing who the characters or subjects are helps the reader to identify and engage with the story.

Understanding what the events or actions are provides clarity and direction.

Determining where the story takes place gives a sense of setting and context.

Figuring out when the events occur helps to establish a timeline and sequence.

And finally, asking why things happen adds depth and meaning to the narrative.

By keeping these elements in mind, writers can create more engaging, coherent and impactful works.

Whether it's a novel, a short story, an article or a blog post, the “Elements of Style” are essential for communicating ideas effectively and captivating the reader's attention.

So, if you want to be a successful writer, make sure to memorize these elements and use them to your advantage.

This book holds a special place in my heart as it was a favorite of a dear friend of mine. Incidentally, he gifted it to me during my high school days. Just recently, I decided to revisit it. The reason being that I've been making an effort to read more narrative non-fiction. Additionally, White's essay "Death of a Pig" was mentioned by two different authors, Geraldine Brooks and Ian Reid, during a writing workshop I attended in the spring.

There are several charming essays within its pages. The tribute to the pig is indeed wonderful, but I was also in a bit of a rural mindset and truly relished "Coon Tree." The part where he realizes that his poetic description of how raccoons descend from trees is actually just how this one particular raccoon descends is truly excellent. And of course, "The Eye of Edna" was also a delight. Moreover, I have a particular fondness for "Here is New York" with its近乎完美的 first line, "On any person who desires such queer prizes, New York will bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy."

However, you do need to be in the right mood for E.B. White. He can be quite the curmudgeon at times, grumbling about punctuation marks and those darn politicians. He also likes to go on at length about his old wood fire stove and the way things used to be. That being said, he's a likeable curmudgeon. I would have been more than happy to spend time with him. But there are occasions when he adopts a sort of muttering, folksy provincialism that can be rather tiresome.

Nevertheless, it's a wonderful and instructive collection when you're in the appropriate frame of mind.

"All that I ever hope to say in books is that I love the world."

As one would anticipate from any disjointed compilation of writings, not every piece within this collection will appeal to everyone's palate. In this assortment, E. B. White takes on an eclectic range of subjects. Some of them seem alien to me. For instance, one essay is a tribute to Thoreau, whom I haven't had the opportunity to read yet. Another is a reflection on the writers of St. Nicholas Magazine, which very much feels like a product of its era. However, when he hits his stride, he is completely on point. "Here is New York" is a piece I've read before, and it was such a poignant and detailed homage to the city that I had to purchase my own copy. "The Eye of Edna" was an atmospheric narrative of experiencing a hurricane pounding the coast of Maine. "The Years of Wonder", an account of his time on a ship bound for Alaska, reminds me of my favorite travelogues, simply an interesting story about an interesting place in an interesting time. Then there are "The Railroad" and "Farewell, My Lovely" - I can never resist a writer getting lyrical about a mode of transportation. And throughout, even in the writings that didn't personally engage me, White has a highly distinctive writing style; witty, intelligent, sentimental without being overly emotional, which ensured that at no stage was this a tiresome read.

There is simply no excuse for not having read this book much, much earlier.

As I delved into it, I found myself constantly alternating between fits of laughter at White's delightfully dry humor and moments of sheer marvel at the incredibly exquisite craftsmanship of each and every sentence, every turn of phrase.

Nearly every other page seemed to present a passage that was so captivating that I couldn't resist the urge to copy it out or add it to my Goodreads quotes collection.

Admittedly, I did skip a few essays that appeared a bit dated or failed to pique my interest. However, almost every other one was an absolute gem.

His account of a trip to Alaska was vivid and engaging, his reflections on life in rural Maine were profound and touching, his elegy for the railroads was both poignant and beautifully written, and his appreciation of Thoreau's Walden was insightful and thought-provoking.

I truly hope to return to this review at some point in the future and write more about the greatness that is E. B. White. But until then, I wholeheartedly encourage you to just read this wonderful book!

E.B. White is truly a master of the essay. His works possess a unique charm that captivates readers from the very first sentence.

I had the pleasure of delving into the essays of his time on his farm, and I was immediately struck by their authenticity and humor. The way he described the simple joys and challenges of rural life was both heartfelt and amusing.

As I turned the final page of the book, a sense of sadness washed over me. It was as if I was bidding farewell to an old friend. White's words had become so familiar and comforting that I didn't want the journey to end.

His essays not only provided entertainment but also offered valuable insights into the human condition. They made me reflect on my own life and appreciate the beauty and simplicity that often goes unnoticed.

E.B. White's essays will always hold a special place in my heart, and I look forward to revisiting them again and again.

In case you, like me, know E.B. White only as the brilliance behind Charlotte’s Web, here’s a newsflash: Most of his writing career was spent at The New Yorker, as an essayist and editor.

In these pages, you will find the mind that created Charlotte and Wilbur and Templeton. He bought a small farm in Maine to escape the chaos of New York City (which he also loved), and eventually lived there full time. He watched the raccoon in the tree outside his bedroom window, cared for geese and chickens and a pig, and tried not to offend his dachshund, Fred.

But you also will find a man who mourns the end of passenger rail lines, worries about nuclear waste, has a few barbed words for the president of the United States, and wishes that electric lights didn’t make every moment of the day equally bright.

“I like to come in from chores and find the early dark in the rooms, when the only gleam is a single lamp over an amaryllis bulb on which my wife is practicing some sort of deception.”

On the farm, he’s more funny than sentimental. “I discovered, though, that once having given a pig an enema there is no turning back, no chance of resuming one of life’s more stereotyped roles.”

In February, he plans for spring, flipping through “the bright and fraudulent pictures in a seed catalog.”

Fred is gone by the time White spends a sick day in bed, reading. But he feels the dog’s presence just the same. “In life, Fred always attended the sick, climbing right into bed with the patient like some lecherous old physician, and making a bad situation worse.”

Fred “had no contemplative life, but he held as a steady gleam the belief that under the commonplace stone and behind the unlikely piece of driftwood lay the stuff of high adventure and the opportunity to save the nation.”

His reflections on subjects as varied as cold and travel and words resonated deeply. “Probably a man’s destination (which is ever in the motorist’s thoughts) colors the highway, enlarges or diminishes its effects.”

When the snow fell on the farm in feet, not inches, he shoveled a path for the geese so they could get from their pen to their favorite spot in the barn cellar. “Imagine a man’s shoveling a path for a goose! So the goose can loiter!”

I laughed on every page of The Eye of Edna, his commentary on the overblown (and overextended) radio coverage of an approaching hurricane. Replace “radio” with “website” and the whole thing is still perfectly relevant.

“But for every few essays I loved (and there were many), I plowed through another couple that felt unfocused or stale. For that reason, I’ve struggled to pinpoint how I feel about the book as a whole.

There’s a certain fascination in an of-the-moment (rather than historical) perspective on the Cold War or whether the car will ever become more useful than a train for cross-country travel.

But sometimes lengthy ruminations on questions long-since answered just feel lengthy, not poignant or enlightening.

In the last parts of the book, I gave myself permission to skip those essays instead of forcing my way through them. (In the end, it was only two of 30 or so that I failed to finish: a heady, confusing examination of why Thoreau’s Walden is so heady and confusing and an essay that served as an introduction to a book about Archy and Mehitabel – characters I had to Google.)

Since I’ve called out those, I should also tell you which I loved best: Just about everything from the section entitled The Farm; A 36-page piece about White’s adventure, first with a ticket, then as an employee, on a cruise along the coast of Alaska. (I kept thinking of Mark Twain’s Innocents Abroad, which is a very good thing.); What Do Our Hearts Treasure, about two New Englanders trying to embrace Christmas in Florida.; Will Strunk, about his classes with the author of Elements of Style and his later work to revise Strunk’s book.

Should you read it? Yes. Should you feel free to skip essays that don’t capture you within the first few pages. Also, yes. With that approach, and White’s sly humor and pointed observations, you may even find it to be a four- or five-star read.

These essays are precisely the very reason why I have fallen in love with reading essays in the first place.

Just spending five or ten minutes in the company of Mr. White's opinions, which are penned by the master stylist that he truly is, has an amazing effect on me. It leaves me experiencing a plethora of emotions - feeling happy, completely refreshed, delightfully relaxed, and most of the time, highly amused.

They are truly wonderful. Moreover, he wrote a significant number of them during his tenure at the New Yorker. This means that I don't have to limit myself to just this one book. There is a whole treasure trove of his essays waiting for me to explore and enjoy, which fills me with great anticipation and excitement.

DNF. It stands for "Did Not Finish." In various aspects of life, we may encounter situations where we have to admit that we DNF. It could be in a race, where we start with great enthusiasm but end up unable to complete the distance due to fatigue or an unexpected obstacle.

It might also happen in a project at work or school. We begin with high hopes and a detailed plan, but along the way, we face challenges that prove too difficult to overcome, and we have to accept that we won't be able to finish as originally intended.

While DNF can be disappointing, it doesn't mean failure. It can be a learning experience, teaching us about our limitations, our strengths, and what we need to do differently next time. It can also give us the courage to try again, knowing that even if we don't finish, we have gained something valuable from the attempt.

So, the next time you find yourself facing a DNF, don't be too hard on yourself. Instead, look at it as an opportunity for growth and keep moving forward.

I took my time reading these essays, one at a time, over the past summer. It ended up being one of the best reading experiences I've had.

To quote E.B. White - "As a writing man, or secretary, I have always felt charged with the safekeeping of all unexpected items of worldly and unworldly enchantment, as though I might be held personally responsible if even a small one were to be lost."

That's exactly the thought that lies behind each of these pieces. When reading them, you're always on the edge of your seat, anxious to discover which memorable slice of life will be wrapped up in the next one. With White's incredible, truly American voice, and his remarkable mastery of the English language, you simply couldn't ask for much more in an essay. His words have the power to transport you to different times and places, making you feel as if you're right there experiencing it all. I'll definitely be rereading many of these essays, as they offer a wealth of wisdom and beauty that I'm sure I'll discover something new each time.

It's rare to come across a collection of essays that can have such a profound impact on you, but this one truly does. I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to read it and look forward to many more rereads in the future.

E.B. White was a remarkable figure who imparted valuable lessons on being a good person.

He didn't seek personal recognition for most of his words. In fact, for many years, he contributed to the 'talk of the town' section in the early New Yorker magazine without any byline.

What he truly required was a peaceful, unadorned room, a simple wooden table, a small window, and a certain distance from the hustle and bustle of the crowd.

His writing serves as a testament to what one can achieve with a mind unburdened by petty ego.

It is no surprise that he played a significant role in writing the book that provided guidance to teachers on how to teach, namely 'elements of style'.

The essays within this book vividly demonstrate the power of words, showing how they can inspire, inform, and transform.

E.B. White's work continues to have a profound impact on generations of readers and writers alike.

His ability to convey profound ideas with simplicity and elegance is a lesson in itself.

We can all learn from his example and strive to use our words more effectively and with greater purpose.

**Expanded Article**

In a world filled with so many disturbing elements that disrupt our lives and cast a cloud over our future, starting right from the confines of my own small principality with its private reservoirs of energy and stretching outwards to our troubled land and the plundered planet, it becomes an arduous task to predict what lies ahead. However, there are certain things that have occurred that offer a glimmer of hope. For instance, the willow by the brook has donned her yellow dress, and together with the faded pink of the snow fences, she adds a splash of color to the vast gray-and-white expanse. I also know that on some not-too-distant night, in a pond, ditch, or low-lying area, a frog will awaken and raise its voice in praise, soon to be joined by others. The thought of hearing those frogs brings a sense of comfort and anticipation.

“With so much that is disturbing our lives and clouding our future, beginning right here in my own little principality, with its private pools of energy, and extending outward to our unhappy land and our plundered planet, it is hard to foretell what is going to happen. I know one thing that has happened: the willow by the brook has slipped into her yellow dress, lending, along with the faded pink of the snow fences, a spot of color to the vast gray-and-white world. I know, too, that on some not too distant night, somewhere in pond or ditch or low place, a frog will awake, raise his voice in praise, and be joined by others. I will feel a whole lot better when I hear the frogs.”

These essays published in The New Yorker spanned several decades, and my reading of them took place over a period of months. It wasn't because I didn't relish them; on the contrary, they were a true source of delight and a much-needed respite from the hatred, tension, and disappointments that have prevailed over the past year. Although most of these essays were written before I was born, they still resonate deeply within me. E.B. White, I am truly grateful to you for sending me off to sleep on numerous nights with your beautiful words, your honesty, and your humor. Thank you for highlighting the simple things that we often take for granted in this modern and complex world. Thank you for enabling me to forget, if only for a while, that so many people are at odds with one another, and for helping me remember that one can appreciate the world and everyone in it. We have all been bestowed with these treasures – the beauty of nature, the gift of words, and the ability to be thankful. Why is it so difficult for some to recognize these precious gifts? They are all too often squandered. It makes me think of Charlotte, her web, and Wilbur – life lessons that children embrace wholeheartedly but that many seem to forget as they reach adulthood.

Some of my favorite essays included reminiscences of New York City, an adventurous sea voyage to Alaska, family camping trips to Maine, an elegy-like tribute to the railroads, and White's personal reflections on Thoreau's Walden. Everywhere he went, he paid attention to his surroundings, the natural world, and the people around him. The writing itself is exceptional and engaging, as if having a conversation with the author. E.B White was truly a class act. I highly recommend this collection. Savor it slowly, bit by bit. Maybe your heart will also feel lighter.

\\"To me, living in the light means an honest attempt to discover the germ of common cause in a world of special cause, even against the almost insuperable odds of parochialism and national fervor, even in the face of dangers that always attend political growth.\\"

\\"The city is like poetry: it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines. The island of Manhattan is without any doubt the greatest human concentrate on earth, the poem whose magic is comprehensible to millions of permanent residents but whose full meaning will always remain elusive.\\"

\\"I felt there were too many people in the world who think liberty and justice for all means liberty and justice for themselves and their friends.\\"

\\"I had always feared and loved the sea, and this gale was my bride and we had a three-day honeymoon, a violent, tumultuous time of undreamed-of ecstasy and satisfaction. Youth is almost always in deep trouble – of the mind, the heart, the flesh. And as a youth I think I managed to heap myself with more than my share.\\"

\\"The slowness of rail travel is not because the Horse is incapable of great speed but because the railroad is a gossip; all along the line it stops to chat at back porches, to exchange the latest or borrow a cup of sugar. A train on its leisurely course often reminds me of a small boy who has been sent on an errand; the train gets there eventually, and so does the boy, but after what adventures, what amusing distractions and excursions, what fruitful dawdling!\\"