Dandelion Wine

Genetic Enchanter

That's what Bradbury called himself in his Introduction, a "genetic enchanter," and Dandelion Wine is "the boy-hid-in-the-man playing in the fields of the Lord."

From the first story, I was under his spell. Bradbury is an exemplar story-teller (think Dickens and Twain, not Joyce and Faulkner). He poured it on as thickly as he liked in this cycle of stories about being a 12 year old boy the summer 1928 in his Illinois hometown. Page after page I whispered, "Oh, yes. Yes! I remember that," although my girlhood in New Mexico summers was 40 years after his.

The details are different of course but he captured the universal sensations. Moments of unbearable joy, epiphanies of sadness, a kid's magical thinking, the terror of show more some boogie man or another, and the wonderment and mystery that seemed to underly everything—as seen by the child-in-the-adult looking back when all childhood summers have condensed into a stream of one continuous long summer, a summer of being alive.

Maybe you should wait until you are at least 40 to read this. (I'm 64.) Let those memories distill into a vintage piquancy to sip along as you read. You know, that intoxicating flavor of nostalgia that gets sweeter as time goes by. In the meantime, read Fahrenheit 451 or The Martian Chronicles or Something Wicked This Way Comes because Bradbury is quite simply a damn good story-teller and no need to deny yourself that pleasure until you are old.

Now I'm on the hunt for a Bradbury I haven't yet read. The Illustrated Man next I think. show less

I have never tasted dandelion wine, but I feel like I can conjure it to my lips. The aroma from the old, cloudy bottle is redolent of nostalgia; a cloying scent of freshly cut grass and your nan's culinary magic undercut by a sweaty, fetid, almost smegmacious, stench that coats the sinuses. The first sip effervescing on the tongue; an explosion of ecstacy, as if standing in Wonka's factory as the bombs fall. Every sweet and sour taste is there, so perfectly overwhelming in their apotheosis. Now the nose is running, mouth watering, tastebuds fizzing. The palette, now roused by this wondrous sensation, yawns and stretches, before rolling over and awaiting the flavours to bathe it. Boiling treacle reaches out with tentacles of nostalgia, show more strangling the palette, coating it in choking oil, even as the bittersweet bit in its mouth keeps it distracted. Your mouth is held open, a foie gras funnel forced down your gullet as the sickly, gritty substance is pushed inside. You choke and splutter, while faceless family members and your imaginary friends comfort you, whispering the exact exquisite words you always needed to hear to be complete. You feel calm for a moment, enjoying the embrace and savouring the sugary alcoholic bite, and what it's doing to you. The spigot is turns all the way, filling you with gloop, until you explode and lay among the tatters of everything else that wasn't in the recipe. show less

In the summer of 1928, Doug and Tom Spaulding experience all the full life that summertime brings, from making dandelion wine with their grandfather to new shoes to discovering that old people have amazing stories to tell.

I've never read another book that so perfectly captures the feeling of summer as a child, when school is out and there are no responsibilities, when you can have lazy days or full ones, and you make discoveries about yourself and others. Countless times I wanted to write down a passage, but didn't when I realized that, just like a summer's day, if you took the words out of the story, out of the context, and looked at a sentence or two alone, it just didn't have that same feeling or essence anymore. It was beautiful, show more but suddenly only a shadow and memory of itself. Green Town is a sleepy mid-western town based on the one in which Bradbury himself grew up, and we get to know many of its inhabitants. If I were to identify a main character, it would be twelve-year-old Douglas Spaulding, though the tone of the book is so nostalgic that I would not call it a children's or teen book. I will definitely be returning to Dandelion Wine when I need a dose of summer again. show less

Ray Bradbury's writing style and command of the English language is incredible.

Dandelion Wine feels like a response to Anne of Green Gables, where we follow children as they live their fullest lives and learn what it is to live, breathe, and explode into the universe in a shower of colorful sparks. I loved the lazy summer feel to the whole book, as though it should be served up with lemonade and blueberry cake.

In Dandelion Wine, Bradbury explores the themes of life, death, and what it means to be alive. Through a series of segments shared over the course of a summer by the citizens of Green Town and conducted but brothers Douglas and Tom Spaulding, the little Illinois town comes to life. It makes you think, and it makes you want to show more remember the things that made you feel like you were on the top of the world. Dandelion Wine makes summer feel eternal.

I absolutely adored this book. I was a little hesitant going in, as Something Wicked This Way Comes leaves big shoes to fill, but I needn't have worried. This is just as gripping and magical an adventure as its sequel. show less

Summer 1928 for Douglas Spaulding in Green Town Illinois is ripe with longing and heady with the smell of dust and new cut lawn, junk carts and arcade fire, the sound that can only be heard by dogs and young boys lost in the eternal splendor of small town summer. There is life purposefully lived and a brave attempt to understand death that is also a part of the mystery of growing up, growing old and sharing wisdom. There is enough wonder and magic in these pages to fill several evenings on the porch, watching the dance of a thousand fireflies and sampling lime vanilla ice cream freshly churned.

This was reread as part of the group read in memoriam for Bradbury's death this last week. A lyrical ode to summer and childhood, the language trips off the tongue and the anecdotal episodes sparkle like gems in your memory. One of my favorite books for ages, it was a great pleasure to read it along with others appreciating the writing and the author.

Dandelion Wine describes one summer in 1928 through the lens of 12-year old Douglas and magnified by his little brother, Tom. The chapters are vignettes each describing an aspect of that summer, but clearly enhanced by the vivid imagination of a child.

I'm of two minds regarding this book. The prose is absolutely breathtaking. Honestly, every sense is touched while reading, and it just completely evokes summer. The language is truly special.

While I appreciated Bradbury's ability to capture childlike wonder, I am so not a fan of magical realism, and this book had quite a bit of MR elements. This issue is more a personal quirk of mine, and I did think the way he did it was not completely unbelievable in the sense I could chalk it up to a show more young person's imagination.

Finally, if you go into this book expecting much in the way of plot, you will be disappointed. It's reads more like a series of interconnected stories. There isn't a strong sense of resolution in either the book nor in many of the vignettes, but that's not unusual in a short story collection, so if you go into the book with that mindset, I think you are more likely to embrace it.

Dandelion Wine has some insightful messaging about joy, death, and family but there's no real hint of social ills at all, which strikes me as strange given the time period. It's a slice of small town life, very artfully rendered. I wavered between 3 and 4 stars because the writing was so beautiful, but ultimately I wasn't as interested in these characters as I needed to be to round up. show less