Loren C. Eiseley (1907–1977)

There were times when reading The Unexpected Universe that I thought I'd found, in Loren Eiseley, another William Bolitho. Now unconscionably obscure, Bolitho was an erudite and ornately lyrical essayist of the 1920s, whose out-of-print books like Twelve Against the Gods and Camera Obscura proved such an unexpected joy for me. Coming across The Unexpected Universe, Eiseley's collection of erudite, ornate essays, in similarly unpromising circumstances (a second-hand book store, miscatalogued show more in the sci-fi section next to a book proving that God was an alien), I saw plenty to excite me. But the precious metals were packed hard into the rock, and many of them proved too difficult to extract.

Discussing science, anthropology, naturalism and spirituality, Eiseley's wide-ranging essays had plenty of potential, and his learned digressions into history, mythology and personal anecdote boded well for a lush reading experience. However, I began to recognise just how slowly I was getting through the book, and how jaded I was becoming. I'm neither a quick nor a slow reader, merely a regular and persistent one, but I was surprised how long it took me to get through this slim volume.

As the initial promise wore off, I began to look more closely at why I felt jaded. At first, I began to notice that while Eiseley's topics of discussion were fascinating, his writing was often quite verbose and bloated. What I had thought to be ornate decoration was increasingly a sickly garnish, and in many paragraphs I found I would lose the thread of argument. In addition to his academic pursuits, Eiseley was also a published poet, and much of his prose – particularly in his occasional flights of fancy – read like prose-poems – but ones injudiciously wrought.

This verbosity was something I also felt with Bolitho – though to a much lesser extent there – but Bolitho was always redeemed by his fantastic, acute observations. With Eiseley, however, I increasingly found that not only was the heavy prose making me lose the thread of argument, but I was often unsure what the argument was. When the argument is clear, Eiseley's bejewelled pursuit can be enjoyable, as in the essay 'The Invisible Island', where the common understanding of Darwinian evolution is recast to pay homage to those all-important genetic and cultural misfits ("... so much has been written about the triumph of the fittest and so little about the survival of the failures who have changed... the world" (pg. 120); "Competition may simply suppress what exists only as potential" (pg. 128)). But too often I didn't know what Eiseley's dreamy, shifting sands were trying to say, and it would be a few paragraphs before I could find something to fix onto.

The Unexpected Universe is a worthwhile book, intermittently inspiring, entertaining and thought-provoking. The name Loren Eiseley is on my radar now, and I am certainly going to pursue more of his writing. But The Unexpected Universe was also intermittently indulgent, ponderous and roundabout, and for all its qualities I believe my lasting memory of the book will be this sluggishness. show less

This book was sitting on an outside shelf at Wonderbooks in Frederick, obviously crying, "Take me away. I'm not wanted here. They either have too many of me or I'm hopelessly out of date!" I took pity on it based on the "High Praise for The Night Country" on the back cover. In this case, the blurbs did not overstate how good the book is. Eiseley portrays himself as a bone hunter and he taught at the University of Pennsylvania until his death at age 69. But his writing, while it deals with show more aspects of his trade, is something else entirely. It is timeless. He isn't trying to (at least directly) teach you anything about old fossils; rather he is describing moment in his life that have given him some sort of glimpses into what perhaps may be truths. These pieces, whether they take place at night or not, are all about shadows, whether literal or spiritual. Eiseley was not a religious person, but he was familiar with religious teachings and with Shakespeare, Bacon, Bunyan, and probably just about every other important writer, and he weaves all of this knowledge into pieces that read like fiction. At any moment, you expect a monster to jump out. I don't think it is surprising that Ray Bradbury was a huge fan; there is really much in common in their perspectives--I can easily see Eiseley as a character in The Martian Chronicles, for instance. Not long after starting reading this I went crazy, logged on to abehbooks.com, and bought all but one of Eiseley's other books. The one holdout seemed a bit expensive at the time. The others, like this one, apparently exist in great numbers and are not collectors items. Pick up one of these orphans at your next visit to a used book store and see if you aren't engaged and amazed also. Eiseley is simply one of the best pure writers I have ever read. Obviously, not every piece is as good as his best, but each has moments of pleasure and wonderment. show less

Of these four essays about Francis Bacon, I liked the last one the best. Because there is so much duplication between the essays, you might get by with reading just this one. According to Eiseley--and who would doubt him--Bacon's almost invention of the scientific method changed history, for the better and worse. Eiseley writes under the shadow of atomic annihilation, and as we are moving toward it again, his sentiments carry more weight. He paints a very good portrait of those for whom show more science has become as dogmatic and exclusionary as religion, while showing us his own humanity in every sentence. show less

This was the third time that I've read this collection of essays... prose that in many passages still read like poetry. Still 5-stars

I originally read this nearly 10 years ago, and over the course of the past several months have read two to three pages at a time until a sprint over the past week to finish. 10 years can make a difference in one's perspective, and I increased my original 4-stars to 5-stars.
Insightful, thoughtful, and contemplative... but never pedantic or dogmatic... Eiseley's show more essays here are easily read and understood, and his personal experiences in print lead one to think that he must have been an interesting person to have known.
It was interesting to see mention of the Philadelphia's Main Line and 30th Street Station, the first area in which I lived in 1984-86 and the second that I passed through (albeit underground) on my way to university classes in the Center City area. show less