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1mirrani
If I think about my children today, I always seen them as five-year-olds, and it strikes me that they'd left my life even then. That's probably the age at which all children begin to leave their parents' lives; quite slowly they turn into strangers. But that all happens so imperceptibly that you barely notice it. p30-31
It's a very true thing, really. And actually, though they are getting more and more familiar, they are wandering away as well.
There's a great bit on page 62 about freedom being mostly a written on paper thing and about honor and death and whatnot... But I can't decide where to copy it from because it really makes the most sense if you read the whole thing. And by page 65 I was really tired of the beginning of the book feeling as if it had to explain itself constantly. This woman is stranded and has to do farming things on her own and feels compelled to tell us all the time that she had done it before as a little girl once on a farm and so had some knowledge before of what to do. Great. Say it once and let us remember, not for every task you do. I figure most people would learn real quick how to milk a cow, it's believable enough that you did it without the backstory rehash. That doesn't go on through the whole book though, eventually it fades away.
Talking about education and how now she realizes how she knows nothing of flower names and random people in history:
I don't know; there must have been something wrong with our educational system. People from an alien world would see in me the idiocy of my age. And I'm pretty sure that most of my acquaintances fared no better. p70
This has a lot to do with what we find important as a society. Here we are where history and people and places are supposed to be important, we need to know what is going on in the world around us, how to manage complicated math stuff, and so on. Or at least we think we do. If suddenly all that was important was foraging for yourself you would find out what was honestly important and that's when you look the most ridiculous of all, because you know nothing, including what you were supposed to learn in school.
Pearl had suffered an injustice, but that same injustice had also befallen her victims, the trout; was I to pass it on to the fox? The only creature in the forest that can really do right or wrong is me. And I alone can show mercy. Sometimes I wish that burden of decision-making didn't lie with me. But I am a human being, and I can only think and act like a human being. Only death will free me from that. p109
A lot of this book is just "how to survive in strangeness" and "let's make you wonder for an entire story what happened to kill the dog" but some of it is stuff that makes you nod and think and agree and maybe even change the way you see things.
Some repetitive lines keep popping up again, about nights being cold and missing a quilt or how the animals need her and I can't decide if I agree with it because it's the sort of mental rambling someone would do if stranded alone or if I hate it because it's the same thing every time. It all happens in phases, which is a blessing, of course, and also natural, but still...
I was no longer in search of a meaning to make my life more bearable. That kind of desire struck me as being almost presumptuous. Human beings had played their own games, and in almost every case they had ended badly. And how could I complain? I was one of them and couldn't judge them, because I understood them so well. It was better not to think about human beings.The great game of the sun, moon and stars seemed to be working out, and that hadn't been invented by humans. But it wasn't completed yet, and might bear the seeds of failure with in t. I was only an attentive and enchanted onlooker; my whole life would be too short to grasp even the in tiniest stage of the game. p184
Just wanted to share that.
The first year, when I still hadn't adapted myself, had been well beyond my powers, and I shall never quite recover from those excessive labors. On top of that, I had been absurdly proud of each new record I broke. Today I even walk from the house to the stable in leisurely woodlander's stroll. My body stays relaxed, and my eyes have time to look around. A running person can't look around. In my previous life, my journey took me past a place where an old lady used to feed pigeons. I've always liked animals, and all my goodwill went out to those pigeons, now long petrified, and yet I can't describe a single one of them. I don't even know what colour their eyes and their beaks were. I simply don't know and I think that says enough about how I used to move through the city. It's only since I've slowed down that the forest around me has come to life. p194
I have always looked at what was going on around me. The world is too big to totally ignore because of your rush. You don't know what you're going to miss. This is an important reminder of that and it's a shame that it'll take people too much of something like this happening to them to realize it for themselves.
There's a bit in the middle of p 209 that I loved, but again, I'm just not sure where to copy it from. This is a long and rambling thing, as you can see from the examples above. There's also a note on page 241 that I would put down, but I'm afraid it gives away too much. Strange to feel that because I think you know about it from the very beginning, but... I just feel like it would ruin it for everyone.
It's definitely a book that you have to experience for yourself and I think everyone would get something different out of it. One person might feel one with nature, while another might reflect on their lives and what their plans are for the future. Some might feel lonely. I had a hard time reading this when listening to a ticking clock because I felt that time rolling past and what was I actually accomplishing? Still not sure how I feel about the book. I'd love to know what caused the whole thing, but at the same time I recognize that it simply doesn't at all mater, which is probably the point.
It's a very true thing, really. And actually, though they are getting more and more familiar, they are wandering away as well.
There's a great bit on page 62 about freedom being mostly a written on paper thing and about honor and death and whatnot... But I can't decide where to copy it from because it really makes the most sense if you read the whole thing. And by page 65 I was really tired of the beginning of the book feeling as if it had to explain itself constantly. This woman is stranded and has to do farming things on her own and feels compelled to tell us all the time that she had done it before as a little girl once on a farm and so had some knowledge before of what to do. Great. Say it once and let us remember, not for every task you do. I figure most people would learn real quick how to milk a cow, it's believable enough that you did it without the backstory rehash. That doesn't go on through the whole book though, eventually it fades away.
Talking about education and how now she realizes how she knows nothing of flower names and random people in history:
I don't know; there must have been something wrong with our educational system. People from an alien world would see in me the idiocy of my age. And I'm pretty sure that most of my acquaintances fared no better. p70
This has a lot to do with what we find important as a society. Here we are where history and people and places are supposed to be important, we need to know what is going on in the world around us, how to manage complicated math stuff, and so on. Or at least we think we do. If suddenly all that was important was foraging for yourself you would find out what was honestly important and that's when you look the most ridiculous of all, because you know nothing, including what you were supposed to learn in school.
Pearl had suffered an injustice, but that same injustice had also befallen her victims, the trout; was I to pass it on to the fox? The only creature in the forest that can really do right or wrong is me. And I alone can show mercy. Sometimes I wish that burden of decision-making didn't lie with me. But I am a human being, and I can only think and act like a human being. Only death will free me from that. p109
A lot of this book is just "how to survive in strangeness" and "let's make you wonder for an entire story what happened to kill the dog" but some of it is stuff that makes you nod and think and agree and maybe even change the way you see things.
Some repetitive lines keep popping up again, about nights being cold and missing a quilt or how the animals need her and I can't decide if I agree with it because it's the sort of mental rambling someone would do if stranded alone or if I hate it because it's the same thing every time. It all happens in phases, which is a blessing, of course, and also natural, but still...
I was no longer in search of a meaning to make my life more bearable. That kind of desire struck me as being almost presumptuous. Human beings had played their own games, and in almost every case they had ended badly. And how could I complain? I was one of them and couldn't judge them, because I understood them so well. It was better not to think about human beings.The great game of the sun, moon and stars seemed to be working out, and that hadn't been invented by humans. But it wasn't completed yet, and might bear the seeds of failure with in t. I was only an attentive and enchanted onlooker; my whole life would be too short to grasp even the in tiniest stage of the game. p184
Just wanted to share that.
The first year, when I still hadn't adapted myself, had been well beyond my powers, and I shall never quite recover from those excessive labors. On top of that, I had been absurdly proud of each new record I broke. Today I even walk from the house to the stable in leisurely woodlander's stroll. My body stays relaxed, and my eyes have time to look around. A running person can't look around. In my previous life, my journey took me past a place where an old lady used to feed pigeons. I've always liked animals, and all my goodwill went out to those pigeons, now long petrified, and yet I can't describe a single one of them. I don't even know what colour their eyes and their beaks were. I simply don't know and I think that says enough about how I used to move through the city. It's only since I've slowed down that the forest around me has come to life. p194
I have always looked at what was going on around me. The world is too big to totally ignore because of your rush. You don't know what you're going to miss. This is an important reminder of that and it's a shame that it'll take people too much of something like this happening to them to realize it for themselves.
There's a bit in the middle of p 209 that I loved, but again, I'm just not sure where to copy it from. This is a long and rambling thing, as you can see from the examples above. There's also a note on page 241 that I would put down, but I'm afraid it gives away too much. Strange to feel that because I think you know about it from the very beginning, but... I just feel like it would ruin it for everyone.
It's definitely a book that you have to experience for yourself and I think everyone would get something different out of it. One person might feel one with nature, while another might reflect on their lives and what their plans are for the future. Some might feel lonely. I had a hard time reading this when listening to a ticking clock because I felt that time rolling past and what was I actually accomplishing? Still not sure how I feel about the book. I'd love to know what caused the whole thing, but at the same time I recognize that it simply doesn't at all mater, which is probably the point.
