Sword Circle Pen: An Announcement

Posted on May 7, 2025 by John Walters

I’d like to give a shout-out to my son: author, veteran, mathematician, and adventurer Nestor Walters, who has recently opened a new website called Sword Circle Pen. As his website’s “about” page says, he was born in Bangladesh, raised in Greece, and spent ten years in the U.S. Navy. After his discharge, he earned an M.S. in applied science with a minor in creative writing at Stanford. He has researched tsunami wave effects on Antarctic glaciers; studied Russian, Chinese, and Spanish; and conducted science diving in Monterey Bay kelp forests.

One of the new website’s features is a look at his environmentally-themed fantasy novella An Earth Day Eulogy, which you can find more details about at this link.

Nestor also introduces and provides a link to a series of tutorials that he created with Next Step Inbound. Although these are specifically crafted for veterans who want to pursue higher education, the tips are useful for anyone who needs to write personal statements, supplemental essays, and resumes that will impress college admissions officers. As of this writing, eleven tutorial videos are available, and more are on the way.

So stop in at Sword Circle Pen, have a look around, and maybe order a copy of An Earth Day Eulogy. You won’t be disappointed.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Book Review:  Close to Home: The Wonders of Nature Just Outside Your Door by Thor Hanson

Posted on May 3, 2025 by John Walters

If this book had been a type of gardening guide or something similar I would not have been interested. However, Hanson goes beyond merely extolling the beauties of nature you can find close at hand; in fact, his writings have a sort of Thoreau vibe, albeit without the frequent allusions to classical literature. Even there, though, Hanson is not completely remiss. Throughout his discussions of the wonders hidden in tangled underbrush, towering treetops, verdant soil, and ponds and other waterways, he often sites examples from naturalists from past eras: Darwin, of course, but also numerous others.

It should be clarified that when it comes to appreciating the natural beauty we can find close to home, Hanson has an unfair advantage. He lives on a widespread farm in the San Juan Islands, an archipelago in the Pacific Northwest. When he goes out to contemplate wildlife he doesn’t just have a small garden but acres and acres at his disposal. Still, he puts his opulent acreage to good use as he studies the many facets of the local ecosystem.

Hanson’s objective is to open our eyes to the intricacies of the natural wonders around us, and he does this by focusing on the microcosms I mentioned earlier: treetops, shrubs, the rotting detritus of fallen trunks and branches, the dirt under our feet, and the bodies of water that surround us. Most of the details, including the names, of the plants and creatures he discovers go over my head, but that’s all right. I realize when I read a book like this that I will not remember many of the particulars. Anyway, that’s not what I’m after. I want to grasp the philosophy behind what he is explaining, and this is presented clearly and simply and directly. He wants us to comprehend that we are surrounded by and part of a vast, complex ecosystem that most of us normally don’t pay much attention to, but if we open our senses we will become more aware of the amazing realities all around us.

One thing that struck me as I read Close to Home is that what Hanson is attempting in this book is similar to a concept of travel I bring out in my series The Perennial Nomad. I lived and wandered overseas for thirty-five years, and the exoticism of my surroundings provided constant stimulation. However, when I got back to the States, and eventually to my hometown of Seattle, I felt a significant letdown. After all, this was familiar territory. I was born and raised here; I went through my teenage angst in these locales. I eventually realized, though, that my perspective of Seattle had changed. I was still a nomad, and this was another stopover on the path to eternity. If I did not have the means to move on immediately, I could instead explore this city as if I were encountering it for the first time. And in recent months, that’s what I have been attempting to do. Similar to the way Hanson zooms in on the infinitesimal but elaborate dramas taking place on his farm, I have been focusing on getting to know various aspects of the city of Seattle as if it were a wondrous new land.

*     *     *

The question inevitably arises: for a perennial nomad like me, the entire world is home, so how do Hanson’s principles apply? The answer is simple. If the entire world is your backyard, then it is essential to care for all of it. I have to admit that Hanson’s perspective made me realize that during my extended years-long travels overseas I should have paid much more attention to the natural world all around than I did. I think that part of the difficulty was that in places that were exotic, at least from my U.S. perspective, I often experienced sensory overload; I was surfeited with input. So when I came across, for instance, trees full of hanging fruit bats along a pedestrian street in Kathmandu, Nepal, or a large, venomous-looking snake whipping along the sidewalk in a suburb in Colombo, Sri Lanka, or an enormous iguana-like lizard running through a park in Southeast Asia, I was not as startled or as impressed as I would have been if these things had happened in my own homeland. Maybe now, after reading Hanson’s book, I might pause and take a closer look.

It certainly has caused me to pay more attention in my own neighborhood. On my daily walks I’ve come across squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, and a proliferation of melodic birds. In fact, I can observe an array of different bird species from the vantage point of my apartment balcony. I live on the fourth floor, and I have a great view of the complex’s profusion of trees, a mix of evergreens, alders, and others. From my aerie I’ve seen an abundance of bird life, including robins, bluebirds, sparrows, ravens, seagulls, hawks, hummingbirds, and many more that I am unable to identify. I’ve seen birds whose feathers are such bright crimson or emerald or ultramarine that they seem florescent.

Hanson’s book has also helped me appreciate the backyard sanctuaries some of my neighbors have cultivated. Although a number of these have signs that indicate they have been set up as sanctuaries, I never understood or appreciated the significance. At first glance they often appear unkempt, with unmown grass, tangled bushes, and overhanging trees, but in fact these pockets of fecundity assist in sustaining rapidly disappearing local ecosystems. In contrast, neatly cropped show-lawns, often patched together with rolled out turf brought in from elsewhere, tend to damage ecosystems by eliminating the variety and profusion of growth that the local wildlife depends upon for survival. Sure, some neighbors neglect their yards with no clear vision of sustainability in mind, but they are inadvertently creating, or at least allowing for, habitats in which indigenous creatures can thrive. After reading Hanson’s book, I notice that my perspective is shifting. I find myself admiring the yards and gardens with lush, overflowing foliage, and disparaging yards where meticulously cut lawns lie like ostentatious carpets upon which one is not allowed to walk.

In conclusion, Close to Home is not only illuminating, but it is also well-written and entertaining. Don’t worry if, like me, you don’t grasp all the scientific terminology; just come along for the ride and have fun.

Posted in Book Reviews | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Book Review:  The Silence by Don DeLillo

Posted on April 26, 2025 by John Walters

Several years ago I read Zero K, a science fiction novel by Don DeLillo. I recall being impressed by the elegance of the prose but feeling that the plot was too thin to justify the length. In The Silence, a much shorter work, the plot is so minimal as to be all but nonexistent.

You could say that it is speculative fiction because it deals with a hypothetical event, but it takes place in our present time when something happens that dramatically changes everything. In short, the five characters in the book are going about their lives when all of a sudden the power goes off. The TV goes dead and their phones don’t work. Two of the characters, a couple, are on their way home from Paris to New York and their plane crash lands. After a stopover at an emergency clinic, they head to the apartment where the others await them. It is Super Bowl Sunday and they were going to watch the game together, but that never happens. Instead, in the absence of anything else to do, they take turns giving weird surrealistic rambling soliloquies that have little to do with the situation at hand. The entire story takes place in less than a day, and in the end nothing gets resolved; the story simply leaves you hanging. DeLillo does not explain what has caused the blackout, although he hints at global catastrophe.

Despite the absence of storyline, the book has a strange power. When I finished it, I wondered what would happen if the power and technology really did abruptly stop working and everyone was left to attempt to survive as best they could. I suppose that chaos and mayhem would be the inevitable result. We have become so dependent on our devices, as well as on electricity, running water in the pipes, and the ability to find out what’s going on locally and around the world within seconds that we would undoubtedly have a horrendously difficult time trying to cope.

One thing that puzzles me about this book is why the publishers insist on calling it a novel. It is touted as a novel on the cover, on the inside front flap, and even amidst the blurbs on the back, but it is really not a novel at all. It’s too short. If truth be told, it’s not even a novella. An extended short story, maybe, or a medium-length novelette. There are a little over a hundred pages, but the margins are wide, the spaces between lines are generous, the font is big, and there are numerous blank pages between sections. Not many writers have the clout for publishers to package short works such as this in hardcover and charge almost as much for them as for full books. Stephen King is one. And DeLillo. And maybe there are a few more. If you pick it up expecting to dive deeply into a rich, intense, detailed work, that’s not going to happen. It really is a very quick read. Out of curiosity I looked up the book’s page on Wikipedia, and to my surprise, a producer has acquired movie rights. I couldn’t help but think that the screenwriter would basically have to start from scratch, because very little goes on in the book. Still, it kept my interest for the brief amount of time that it took to read it, and you might enjoy it too as long as you don’t set your expectations too high.

Posted in Book Reviews | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Book Review: Quantum Supremacy: How the Quantum Computer Revolution Will Change Everything by Michio Kaku

Posted on April 19, 2025 by John Walters

I was greatly impressed by the last Michio Kaku book I read, The God Equation: The Quest for a Theory of Everything, because it evoked an overwhelming sense of wonder, delving into such fascinating subjects as the theory of gravitation, the theory of relativity, quantum theory, and string theory and then taking off from these ideas into a look at black holes, wormholes, dark matter, time travel, and the creation of the universe. In my review, I conclude that “the book ends in uncertainty. Unfortunately, the God equation has not yet been discovered and experimentally proved.” I did not mind the enigmatic conclusion, though, because I had such an entertainingly wild ride along the way. However, Quantum Supremacy I have mixed feelings about.

The book’s focus is the quantum computer and how it could possibly help solve some of the most pressing problems facing humankind, but the uncertainty factor is even more pronounced than in The God Equation. Perhaps this is because in this one Kaku intends to offer practical solutions to real world dilemmas, whereas in The God Equation the premise is more philosophical, or even metaphysical.

As in the previous book, I admit that I do not understand much of the detailed explanations, as I have never studied mathematics or physics or any other advanced science in depth. That’s not a deal-breaker, though, concerning my interest in and grasp of Kaku’s broader explanations. It is intriguing, for instance, that while he is giving a brief history of the basics of quantum physics he explains the background behind the concept of parallel universes and how they relate to the entanglement of particles that makes quantum computers possible. The ultimate takeaway, however, is that although intensive research is going on by governments and high-powered tech companies, quantum computers, which Kaku feels will eventually render digital computers obsolete, are still in the early stages of their growth.

The second part of the book delves into the possible uses to which fully functioning quantum computers, with their incredibly rapid calculating abilities, could be put. To accomplish this, Kaku delves in detail into the overwhelming difficulties facing researchers attempting, for instance, to create fertilizers capable of growing a sufficient amount of crops to feed the growing human population; find cures for baffling diseases such as cancer, AIDS, Covid-19, sickle cell anemia, cystic fibrosis, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, ALS, and others; arrest and even reverse aging itself, leading to a drastic lengthening of the human lifespan and maybe even immortality; mitigate global warming; and harness fusion power. These are all complex dilemmas that have been baffling and frustrating researchers for decades, even centuries. Unfortunately, Kaku offers no possible solutions to any of them. After elaborate explanations about the present state of research, his only conclusion in each case is that quantum computers might be able to help solve this. His rationale is that the ability of quantum computers to calculate at presently-impossible speeds will make the tedious process of laboratory research redundant. This all sounds like an elegant solution to some of our age-old problems, but remember that the summary of every conclusion he comes to includes the words “maybe” or “might.”

At its heart, then, this book is mainly speculative. But it is important to keep in mind that the speculation is based on a solid background of quantum physics, at least as much as is known of it as of 2023 when the book came out. The fact is that much uncertainty remains in these cutting-edge frontiers of science, and I am thankful to Kaku for giving me an overview of what’s currently happening in these exciting endeavors.

Posted in Book Reviews | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

The Ongoing Relevancy of Travel

Posted on April 16, 2025 by John Walters

This week in my newsletter The Perennial Nomad: For Those Who Wander with Intent I discuss the relevancy of travel in these dark times:

Among the many sad topics that have hit the news recently are accounts of distrust of international travelers, both of travelers entering the United States and Americans traveling abroad. Travel should be celebrated as the acceptance and blending and coming together of diverse cultures, not excoriated and misinterpreted as unwelcome invasion. It is as important as it ever has been to remind us that we are all members of the same family of humankind.

Click on this link to read the rest.

Posted in Travel | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Book Review:  Trail of the Lost: The Relentless Search to Bring Home the Missing Hikers of the Pacific Crest Trail by Andrea Lankford

Posted on April 12, 2025 by John Walters

This book, written by a former member of the National Park Service’s law enforcement team, focuses on the years-long search for three through-hikers on the Pacific Crest Trail who disappeared without a trace, two in California and one in Washington. It reminded me, of course, of Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild, which Lankford says was responsible for a huge burst of popularity for the PCT, but also of Lost in the Valley of Death, an account of the search for a hiker lost in the Himalayas (my three-part review is here and here and here) and The Adventurer’s Son, about the search for a hiker lost in Costa Rica. The difference between these two books and Trail of the Lost is that the searchers eventually found evidence of what had happened to the hikers in the Himalayas and in Costa Rica, but in Trail of the Lost the cases remain unresolved. I suppose that’s a bit of a spoiler, but not really. As one of the searchers says, “The best final chapter would be these hikers being found, but I guess the reality that sometimes they aren’t found is equally important.” What is fascinating is the quest for answers, the commitment of the searchers, and the descriptions of the many dangers that face hikers on long-distance treks such as the PCT.

A hike from the trailhead near the Mexican border to the far side of the PCT near the Canadian border goes through some of the most gorgeous scenery in the world. It can be the experience of a lifetime, and most people manage to walk it without life-threatening mishaps. However, the dangers to be aware of include mountain lions, swarming bees, feral dogs, wanted criminals, farming cults that recruit new members along the PCT, and trigger-happy illegal marijuana growers. Lankford’s account of the dope farmers reminded me of a time long ago, back in the mid-1970s, when I was hitchhiking in the hills between Interstate 5 and the Lost Coast in Northern California and I was picked up by a pot farmer. I’d heard that there were numerous plantations in those hills but I’d never expected to come across any growers. In this instance, at least, the man who gave me the ride was a true gentleman and a paragon of hospitality. He put me up for the night at his mansion in the forest, fed me, and offered me some samples of his product. Times have changed, I guess, in the ensuing decades, and illegal growers now are more on the defensive.

Lankford’s description of the use of cell phones and social media in tracking down clues and support made me recall a hike I took into the mountains of Nepal near the town of Pokhara. This was also back in the mid-70s. Back then there were no cell phones. The only way my parents and friends had any idea of my whereabouts was when I would post an aerogram, a folded up bit of paper, every week or two. When I walked into the mountains of Nepal, I went alone on an unmarked trail and told no one where I was going. If I had got lost in those mountains there would have been no way anyone would have had the faintest clue where to look. When I think of some of the chances I took back then… It’s good that now hikers can carry their phones and tracking devices and so on in case they run into trouble. But as this book points out, the wild places of the world are still fraught with danger, and people disappear, and their loved ones grieve and try to find them. It is heartbreaking when they search for years and never find closure.

What shines through in this account is the self-sacrificial kindness of those who dedicate their time and strength to finding their own lost loved ones and the loved ones of others. Yes, there is great evil seeking to waylay the unwary; however, there is also great good. Many people are willing to undergo personal sacrifices to assist others. As the story progresses, the network of searchers Lankford becomes a part of grows and grows and expands its priorities to attempt to locate other lost people besides the missing ones they had originally focused on.

This book delves deep into the subculture of PCT hiking enthusiasts, their solidarity, and the dangers that face them from nature and from other humans. It’s a story of the detection and analysis of clues, of determination and perseverance, of loss, of disappointment, and of shared grief. Recommended.

I’m a professional writer; I make my living by my words.  I’m happy to share these essays with you, but at the same time, financial support makes the words possible.  If you’d like to become a patron of the arts and support my work, buy a few of my available books or available stories. To send a one-time or recurring donation, click here. You can also donate via my Patreon account. Thanks!

Posted in Book Reviews, Travel | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

On the Hippie Trail

Posted on April 9, 2025 by John Walters

Usually I post book reviews on this website/blog, but because of its focus on travel, for the past two weeks I have posted a two-part review of On the Hippie Trail: Istanbul to Kathmandu and the Making of a Travel Writer by Rick Steves in my newsletter The Perennial Nomad: For Those Who Wander with Intent. Here’s an excerpt:

I began to travel in earnest in the mid-1970s. When I did, it was not as a tourist who goes for a pre-designated amount of time and then returns home, or as a “there and back again” adventure such as Bilbo Baggins undertook in The Hobbit. I left with an open mind and with a view to discover my destiny, which I knew would include writing, but other than that I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t know if I would ever return to the land of my birth, and that was fine with me.

My first journey took me to Mexico and Central America. On my next trip I flew to Europe and hitchhiked around; however, as winter approached I caught rumors that dedicated young travelers were taking the Overland Trail, also known as the Hippie Trail, across the Middle East to the Indian Subcontinent. That appealed to me. It was exciting and dangerous, a true leap from a relatively safe place into a void of uncertainty. When I made the decision to go east I was in Greece, so I hitched back north to a friend’s village in Holland, worked in factories for a couple of weeks to get a little pocket money, and then traveled through Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia, and Bulgaria to the Turkish border. From there I began hitchhiking rides on long-haul trucks, accosting European drivers stopped at borders and persuading them to let me ride shotgun. In this way I managed to make it all the way to Kandahar in Afghanistan before switching to cheap local transportation. I crossed Pakistan into India, spent Christmas on the idyllic beaches of Goa, continued south to Sri Lanka and then north to Nepal, where I hiked alone into the Himalayas on unmarked trails. I ran out of money and almost starved to death in Delhi until my father rescued me with one hundred dollars wired to the United States embassy. With that I managed to get back to Europe.

On my second journey on the Hippie Trail, I was penniless and returning to India for metaphysical reasons. I hitchhiked with private cars all the way through Turkey and Iran to the Pakistan border; I had to circle south of Afghanistan because I didn’t have seven dollars for a visa. Hitching through Pakistan to India was damned dangerous and I had several close calls. Once I managed to get to India, I continued hitchhiking with the friendly local truckers until I made it back to my destination: Calangute Beach in Goa.

All that to say that I am familiar with the Hippie Trail and have memories of many adventures while traversing west to east, east to west, and west to east again on it. So when I heard about Rick Steves’ new book about the Hippie Trail, I was very excited to obtain a copy as soon as possible.

Click on this link to read the rest.

Posted in Book Reviews, Travel | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Book Review:  Aflame: Learning from Silence by Pico Iyer

Posted on April 5, 2025 by John Walters

Aflame is a celebration of Iyer’s decades-long infatuation with a Benedictine retreat in an isolated spot in the hills above the ocean at Big Sur. In his recent book The Half-Known Life: In Search of Paradise, Iyer searches the world for locations with unique spiritual significance, but in Aflame, he offers readers a glimpse of his own special place, the place he prefers to escape to when he is in need of spiritual renewal. Although the retreat is run by a Catholic order of brothers, all who seek stillness and silence are welcome. Iyer emphasizes that he does not believe in God but approaches the spirituality he finds there from a secular perspective. His observations, which are presented in short, succinct sections, remind me of the insights offered by Erling Kagge in his meditative book Silence: In the Age of Noise.

Iyer has a very busy, globetrotting life conducting research for his books and the magazines he writes for, and alternating his time between his home with his wife in Japan and his mother’s home in California. As he tells it, sometimes it all becomes too much, and when he needs to slow down he invariably opts for the small hermitage at Big Sur. His thoughts caused me to remember times in my life during which I had been rushing to get from place to place and felt the need to pause, step back, take a few quiet breaths, and get refilled with inner peace and fortitude. For instance, on my first trip from Europe across the Middle East on the Hippie Trail, when I finally arrived in India, the first thing I did was to retire to a Buddhist ashram north of Bombay where I spent a couple of weeks learning to meditate. Later, while in Nepal, when I was unsure of my next step amidst my travels, I found an isolated spot on an unmarked trail high in the Himalayas where I could stop and ponder my life’s path. On my next trip to India, I’d been traveling hard to make it to a certain location in Goa, India, but just before I arrived I paused, found a tiny beachside village, and rested for a few days in silence and stillness. We all need this from time to time, only many of us do not recognize the need and allow the stress to build up to the breaking point.

It is not as if you will necessarily have a special revelation if you embrace the silence of which Iyer writes. He emphasizes that “the world isn’t erased here; only returned to its proper proportions. It’s not a matter of finding or acquiring anything, only of letting everything extraneous fall away.” And it’s not as if everything Iyer writes is a gem of wisdom. Sometimes his observations are sort of hit and miss, or perhaps it’s that certain parts of the book may speak to some individuals more than others.

The difficult part, according to Iyer, is to carry the peaceful attitude brought on by silence and contemplation back out into the world. In my case, as I read this I wondered how I could reconcile watching Futurama or Family Guy while eating a meal with the need I have for profound silence and deliberate life choices. The answer is moderation. Balance. It is important to enjoy oneself while at the same time maintaining an attitude of waiting and listening. Going to overzealous extremes can easily lead to self-righteousness and snobbery. One thing that Iyer appreciates about the Benedictine brothers at his Big Sur hideaway is their open-mindedness and tolerance. They receive anyone who seeks peace.

The title, Aflame, is mainly metaphysical but also literal, as Iyer explains that one time he was driven to spend time at the monastery after his home burned down in a California wildfire. In fact, the hermitage is frequently in danger of the forest fires that sometimes rage in coastal California and sometimes has to be evacuated during fire season. Iyer writes: “Fire is nature’s agent of rebirth. It replenishes wild places much as I replenish myself by sitting in silence.” The stoical attitude that the monks take toward the occasional fires is drawn from their overall attitude toward existence. Life is a transitory phenomenon.

Near the end of the book, COVID strikes and the world locks down. Iyer takes it as an opportunity to seek whatever beauty he can find where he is. He says, “In a curious way, in the heart of a trembling world, we’re living a little as we might in the silence of the monastery.” And that’s really the message of this book. Not everyone can take off to a retreat as Iyer can. He acknowledges this when he writes: “I’m lucky indeed to have the time and money to go on retreat, I know, a luxury that most might envy.” The point, though, of Iyer’s book, and of Kagge’s book about silence too, is that we must take time to pause and reflect regardless of our situation and location. You can turn any quiet spot into a monastery, a place of rest and renewal.

Posted in Book Reviews | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Where Am I?

Posted on March 26, 2025 by John Walters

This week’s newsletter in The Perennial Nomad: For Those Who Wander with Intent celebrates the irresistible urge to roam.

Sometimes it takes me awhile to remember where I am in the world. No, that’s not right. Let me rephrase it. I know where I am physically, but sometimes I forget where I am in the context of my life’s journey. Physically I am at this moment in Seattle, Washington, United States, on the planet Earth. That much is certain. However, my relationship with Seattle is not the same as it was when I was raised here in the 1950s and 1960s. Back then, Seattle was the world. I couldn’t imagine anywhere else being home. As I gradually made forays, first short and then longer, to other places, I began to realize that though Seattle had great relevance to my own personal background, it was only an interim destination – just as every place I have ever visited or stayed in for any length of time. In intervals during my decades of travel Mumbai was home, as was Kolkata and Chennai and Kathmandu and Bangkok and Auckland and Viterbo and Napoli and Termini Imerese and Athens and Thessaloniki and San Diego and Yakima. These, by the way, are places where I’ve actually lived, not just visited. At intervals I would return to Seattle to visit my parents, siblings, and friends, but during these layovers from one exotic locale to another I knew that I was not staying; I was only passing through.

Click on this link to read the rest.

Posted in Travel | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Book Review:  Memorial Days: A Memoir by Geraldine Brooks

Posted on March 22, 2025 by John Walters

On May 27, 2019, Memorial Day, Australian writer Geraldine Brooks received a phone call telling her that her sixty-year-old husband, Tony Horwitz, who was away on a book tour, suddenly collapsed on a sidewalk in Chevy Chase, Maryland, and died. Years later, in early 2023, she journeyed alone to a remote shack on Flinders Island, between Tasmania and mainland Australia, so that in isolation she could finally deal with her grief.

This slim but profound, emotional, beautiful, and illuminating memoir alternates between her account of dealing with the immediate tragedy and the multitudes of details that inevitably followed, and her time on the island when she had the time to contemplate their marriage and the life they shared. It is a thoughtful, cadenced narrative brimming with insights about death which, despite our awareness of its inevitability, still comes as a shock when it happens. She brings out its universality in sharing brief summaries about how death is reacted to around the world in various cultures and religions, but her main focus is on the singular death that she has to somehow come to grips with.

Her story reminds us that death can come to anyone at any time. Shortly before Horwitz died, he was diagnosed with high cholesterol and hypertension, two factors that contributed to his heart failing. It inevitably struck me that not long ago I was diagnosed with these maladies as well, and now they are held in check through lifestyle changes and medications. I think it’s human nature that we shove death out of our conscious thoughts as something that befalls other people but not us – until something happens that provides us with a stark reminder. For me, reading this memoir was in the nature of a wakeup call. After all, I’m over a decade older than Horwitz was when he died. During the period I was reading this book, I stumbled and fell on the steps of my apartment building while heading out for a walk; although I managed to catch myself and the only injury was a skinned knee, it got me in a somber mood as I strolled through the neighborhood. If there is any inevitability in all of our lives, it is death.

At the same time, Brooks avoids taking a despairing, maudlin approach to her subject matter. Memorial Days is not a depressing read. To the opposite, it is empowering. Of course Brooks mourns the loss of her husband and had a very difficult time in the weeks following his death, but at the same time she celebrates the wonderful life they shared. In fact, it was a kind of fairy tale, larger-than-life existence. After all, they were both highly acclaimed, award-winning, world-traveling writers. Their income was substantial. They had a home on Martha’s Vineyard, an elite, affluent island off the coast of Massachusetts, and a multitude of high-profile friends and acquaintances. After her husband died, and Brooks dealt with things at Martha’s Vineyard, she flew to Australia and lived in Sydney for awhile, and then flew to France and lived in Paris for awhile before returning to the States at the outbreak of COVID. It is not a reality that most people would be able to relate to. I became somewhat envious of her ability to cut loose from all her obligations and take extended time off in a remote location; I would love to be able to do that. This is not to diminish or minimize at all the loss she suffered, though; one thing that this book brings out is that not only death comes to all, but the grief that follows death is also ubiquitous. Grief is grief, no matter who it happens to, and we all have to acknowledge it and handle it in our own ways.

This is a slim book, as I mentioned, and for some reason the publisher decided to leave a space between each paragraph. At first this annoyed me, as it felt like extra padding. But as I got used to it, I came to appreciate that it created a slower, more contemplative reading rhythm. All in all, it is a wonderful, thoughtful book on a subject that, like it or not, is relevant to all of us. Highly recommended.

Posted in Book Reviews, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment