W. H. Hudson (1841–1922)

An absolutely beautiful memory of childhood, growing up in the Pampas of Argentina in the 19th century. Sort of a precursor to 'my Family and other Animals', as the author intersperses magical natural history (he was a noted ornithologist) with entertaining portraits of local characters. Though writing this back in 1917, it's already sad to hear him comment "I only know that the old place...where his cattle and horses grazed and the stream where they were watered was alive with herons and show more spoonbills, black-necked swans, glossy ibises in clouds, and great blue ibises with resounding voices, is now possessed by aliens, who destroy all wild bird life and grow corn on the land for the markets of Europe."
There's a further depth to it, though, as faced with bereavement, separation from the country, illness...he delves into the magic of Nature, concluding that the happiness of it "had a cumulative effect on the mind...so that in my worst times...I could always feel that it was infinitely better to be than not to be."
Superlative writing. show less

"¿Qué deseaba entonces? ¿Qué quería yo tener? Si hubiera sido capaz de expresar lo que sentía, habría replicado: solo quiero conservar lo que poseo. Levantarme cada mañana y mirar el cielo y la tiera verde toda mojada de rocío, día tras días, año tras año".

Tenía una idea previa sobre este libro, pensaba que era algo así como un [b:Martín Fierro|845331|Martín Fierro|José Hernández|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328836261s/845331.jpg|830857] en prosa y escrito por un show more inglés. Pero, ¡oh cielos!, qué equivocado estaba. La enorme influencia que ejercieron sobre el autor la naturaleza y el paisaje autóctono, difícilmente puedan encontrarse en otra obra. Seguramente para las personas criadas en la ciudad, será difícil de comprender, a menos que se lo ubique en alguna corriente panteísta. Pero para alguien con algún contacto con el campo (sobretodo en la región de la Pampa Húmeda), supone un viaje interno, una introspección que llama constantemente a la nostalgia, al recuerdo de una belleza que se va extinguiendo, que se va marchitando en pos del autoproclamado "progreso".

De todas formas, el libro no termina allí, hay mucho mas. Resaltan las descripciones de personajes rurales de la época, en la figura de vecinos de otras estancias, con sus particularidades y costumbres; todo inserto en el turbulento mapa político de aquella época. Sobre el final incluso se trata el tema del misticismo, el debate entre la muerte material y la vida eterna, que afecta a cada uno de nosotros. Este libro me ha resultado sumamente conmovedor, y no puedo dejar de recomendarlo. 5 estrellas totalmente merecidas. show less

The strangeness of the world is never-ending, particularly in the memoirs of those who have long ago left us. Hudson evokes a bird-world in South America that even he laments as lost, from his burrow in the smokey London of his exile. He knew what was happening in his homeland, the spread of efficient agriculture that doomed wetlands and their denizens. And this was over a century ago. The beauty and oddity of this memoir just absolves it of the terrible pain it causes. That seemed to have show more been Hudson's case as well. show less

Perhaps Green Mansions provides more promise than it delivers, especially towards the end, where it grasps for a philosophy that it never adequately expresses or attains. It's an enchanting book, nevertheless, that leads you to think that an idyllic state with nature might offer salvation. Yet serpents are afoot in this Eden. It cannot survive unspoiled. Bleakness dominates; sorrow pervades the land. But as its hero, Abel, nears the end of his journey, his delirium leads him to a show more transmogrification of spirit and soul. All made possible through his encounter with the mysterious Rima, a woodland nymph whose spirit Abel literally carries with him for the rest of his life.

The writing style of Green Mansions is surprisingly fresh. It has a modern feel to it, although composed at the turn of the last century. This goes hand in hand, however, with a storyline that is pure romance and fantasy, where reality intrudes just barely at the book's beginning. Its belief in the power of the "natural being," the person unsullied by contact with civilization, to live harmoniously with nature, provided the more carnivorous qualities of human nature can be diminished, was just plausible when the novel was written, in 1904. Today, it might be more likely regarded as an impossible illusion. show less