The Most of It

[b:The Most of It|2459339|The Most of It|Mary Ruefle|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1354902932l/2459339._SY75_.jpg|2466534] by Poet [a:Mary Ruefle|282933|Mary Ruefle|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1250203628p2/282933.jpg] is her first book of prose. Quirky and surprising assessments of commonplace things beginning with snow which awakens her desire for sex and ending with burial and comments on the tombs of Jesus and of King Tut. In between she comments on killing, dying, lichen, birds, religion, housekeeping and a potpourri of thoughts from an anchorite on lists, penance, prayer, Shakespeare, news, books, rabbits and mistaken facts. The book defies description but yields similes and smiles. show more And I read and reread in kind of a calisthenics of the mind.

"Soon the trains, too, shall pass out of all being, while books, I'm afraid, will go on pretending the are still among us. My friend--for nothing hinders me from calling you my friend, especially the fact we have never met, and are only now pretending to--if all the world were made of paper, and perhaps it is, it could one day conceivably burn for year, like the rainforests of Brazil were once so fond of doing, and eventually we'd be reduced to a few square heaps of ash, as if the sun had strayed too close, or one among us drifted too far, the sensitivity of his organs of perception so extreme he regarded all of civilization and most of literature, an illusion."

Just pick it up and read a few opening sentences of the short pieces which make up the book:
"This morning I want to talk a little bit about killing."
"Fire is my companion, but I do not talk to it, it talks to me."
"A pet is a good way to tell time, better than a clock, for time is a measure of the changing position of objects, and soon it will be time to feed the pet, to exercise the pet, to replace its little ball, clip its nails or talons, wash it ever so gently, vaccuum up its shedding and so forth."
"After father died, he said that dying had taken a longer time than he had previously imagined possible."
"I wanted to go into the forest and collect lichen."
"Remove everything beautiful from your home, remove everything you like, love, cherish or are fond of."

See what I mean? Unexpected and compelling. show less

Ahhhh, Mary Ruefle is just, well she's a first rate poet(writer) and while I didn't jive with all the pieces in the Most of It, I did, mostly. Her imagination is inspiring and her gaze turns the familiar into something new or untouched. Like if you're holding a rock and it suddenly had a new name and you could appreciate its geological formation (back story).

http://msarki.tumblr.com/post/150025392913/the-most-of-it-by-mary-ruefle

After recently listening to a couple of podcasts this past summer featuring Mary Ruefle I decided to give her poetry a try. For the record I confess to initially being more interested in her collected lectures [b:Madness, Rack, and Honey: Collected Lectures|13237099|Madness, Rack, and Honey Collected Lectures|Mary Ruefle|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1348707245s/13237099.jpg|18434923]. But in my predictively addictive newfound curiosity in an attractive writer near my own age, whose clear and comforting voice sounded like [a:Patti Smith|196092|Patti Smith|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/authors/1443733105p2/196092.jpg] to me, and who seemed to show more have a grasp on what I feel most important in the writing I read, I instead decided to try these little prose pieces collected in The Most of It as I waited for a more affordable copy of her revered lectures to come my way. But what began as an exciting delight in reading her short prose slowly turned into boredom, and then, almost abruptly, her lines took a left turn and morphed into indifference. I felt completely hornswoggled. And I should have known better than to have purchased this book anyway when the publishing promo proudly stated: Fans of Lydia Davis and Miranda July will delight in this short prose from a beloved and cutting-edge poet. The book proved to be severely lacking in everything but burdensome disappointment. Mary Ruefle teaches writing. She has the credentials to prove it. And she should demand much better of herself. I was woefully surprised. show less

4.5 Stars. Ruefle's prose is a joy to read. She is at turns thought-provoking, imaginative and humorous.

I was watching birds on the reservoir when I read "my search among the birds". Laughed out loud as I sat alone on the bench. Surprising and funny read.

Mary Ruefle writes excellent sentences.

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