Kenneth Brower

It's difficult to quantify this book, odd which basically is about physicist Freeman Dyson and his son George, who at the time of the book, was living in a treehouse in British Columbia, designing a huge canoe based on Aleut kayaks.

The father-son dichotomy between the man who promoted the idea of space colonization via nuclear-powered starships, and the twenty-something hippy mystic drives the narrative. It's an interesting read, and Brower has some cogent observations, but it doesn't show more really satisfy. It just wanders up and down the gulf between the two men the way George's super-kayak wanders up and down the Inland Passage show less

This is a biography of the astrophysicist Freeman Dyson and his son George. Freeman was famously involved in NASA's Orion mission, and believed that humans needed to colonize space. George's ambitions were more earth-bound but no less wild: he built canoes and lived mostly on the water all along the West coast of Alaska and British Columbia. The two were estranged when George was young. Kenneth Brower was friends with both of them, and spent a lot of time traveling with George. This book show more culminates in their reunion after many years apart.

It's a charming book about two men who seem very different, yet share a lot of characteristics. More than that, it's about canoes and boating on the Pacific Northwest Coast. More than that, it's a snapshot of the lifestyles of a lot of coastal people in the PNW in the 1970s. It's also about how people who seem very different can usually find ways to get along, and about how humans relate to the world around them.

I had hoped for more information about Freeman and his theories, but the book focuses a lot more on George. If I didn't live in the PNW myself, I would probably have found this far less interesting. show less

I've read and owned many books about underwater photography / marine biology, and I kept saltwater aquaria for about 20 years, so I'm fairly jaded towards these kinds of books, but this one has some truly special photos, particularly towards the end. The cover photo is quite busy and ill-composed, but most of the ones inside the book are zenlike and thought-provoking. Highly recommended.

Of all the National Geographic books I have, this one was the best. The writing is great. The author grew up in the park, his family having been closely tied to it for several generations. His great-grandfather was a contemporary of John Muir and in fact actively opposed Muir on many things, which gives lots of interesting insights into park management here. There are details on all kinds of things. The history of geological formations- including early mistaken concepts about how they came show more to be. Controversies and different theologies on how wildlife should be managed in the park. Concerns over human use and the impacts of things like roads, campgrounds and the like. Issues from early decades, including sheepherding. How trails are designed and cut into the rock- the artistry (or lack) of them. Moutainclimbing, of course. Tree blazing, why it was done and what it indicates. Studies of fauna and flora- lichens, wildflowers, giant sequoias. It's not as much about wildlife, but what there is of course I loved. Intriguing little snippets that throw exquisite details at me in a few sentences and make me want to go read more right away. I didn't realize there were so many various microclimates in Yosemite, that's part of what makes this place amazing. It's also about people. John Muir- lots about him. He was such a key figure in the early park's development. There's a close portrait of a Native American woman who learned the art of basketweaving, which plant fibers she gathers in the park, the reasons for their particular uses. Ansel Adams!! I loved that there was a whole chapter about artists who have visited the park, and what they created.

from the Dogear Diary show less