Surely golf is a game for posh people, country clubs and networking businessmen, for unfortunate sweaters, politics and trousers? Andrew Greig grew up on the East coast of Scotland, where playing golf is as natural as breathing. He sees the game as the great leveller, and has played on the Old course at St Andrews as well as on the miners' courses of Yorkshire. He writes about the different cultural manifestations of the game, the history, the geography, the different social meanings, as well as the subjective experience, the reflections between shots. He plays alone, with friends and brothers, with ghosts. He is looking for the essence of golf, the pure heart of it, which can be found, Andrew Greig believes, on the free 9 hole course on North Ronaldsay.
Andrew Greig is a Scottish writer who grew up in Anstruther, Fife. He studied philosophy at the University of Edinburgh and is a former Glasgow University Writing Fellow and Scottish Arts Council Scottish/Canadian Exchange Fellow. He lives in Orkney and Edinburgh and is married to author Lesley Glaister.
I’m not sure who I’m writing this for—I was just going to give it a bunch of stars (yes, the maximum, since it’s an amazing & beautiful book, IMHO, and one I wish hadn’t ended—ever get that feeling as you finish a book?) & leave the rest blank; after all, the title says it all, right? Golf?? An acquired (and supposedly middle-aged) taste, right? Even if you’re OK with pro golf—i.e. you like Tiger Woods—this might be over the top for you: what Greig’s “searching” for is really the antithesis of Tiger. Greig’s a purist seeking the essence of golf in its true home (don’t give me any of that shit about ancient China or Holland or whatever; golf originated in you-know-where), the “links” (not a generic name for golf courses, as many people seem to think, but the specific term referring to that rolling, grassy, dunesy area between solid land and sea, found in Britain and Ireland but rarely here in North America) where centuries ago courses just sort of emerged from the landscape and where hardy folks with varied equipment played and still play in the wind, rain, gorse, and sheep shit. Cut-throat competition like that which we see in Tigerland or, too often, the local course of a Saturday, is what drove Greig away from the game in his teens and kept him away for 40 years. As a kid he won trophies, but the pressure of competing got to him and poetry and rock’n’roll lured him away. After a successful career as a novelist, poet, and mountain climber, he nearly died from a brain tumor, provoking his return to golf, initially a therapeutic activity that came to take on philosophic importance. The title might suggest this: first, the idea of “lies” as falsehoods, fictions, illusions we create to tell others and ourselves in order to cope, to give our lives a sense of cohesion or justification. We “prefer” these lies to the truth, which can be harsh, bitter, embarrassing. But principally what the title refers to is the advantages we get from a good lie, i.e. the position the ball comes to rest in, and therefore the result of our action (careful judgment, swing, striking), affected by the external elements of wind and the contours of land. A bad lie must be played as it is; a good lie—in the fairway (a place I occasionally find) may be “preferred” or moved, cleaned, etc., without penalty. Analogies abound. As in most (good) books about golf, much more is always at stake—for Greig, taking stock of his life, coming to terms with his childhood and origins, reconnecting with friends and family, contemplating mortality and his spiritual life (the latter part of the book gets into Buddhism, though not as a central focus or to proselytize). Perhaps the best aspect of this book, though, is its descriptions of golf courses, both the familiar (e.g., the Old Course at St. Andrews) and the remote and little-known (e.g., on the northernmost Orkney island) and Greig’s sometimes-solitary, sometimes-not rounds of golf there.
An enjoyable, if slightly melodramatic, telling of one man aiming for spiritual redemption through golf. As someone who has grown up in Scotland and had golf play a big part in that, there were certain sections that really rang true. I do feel he over-played certain aspects, for example by constantly mentioning how he thought it reflected Presbyterian morals, and his endless references to Scottish lack of optimism. But I did enjoy it.
There was one stage when I finished reading at midnight and then practiced putting in my bedroom, such was the desire to play that this book created. There was one section that really stood out, and sums up what golf as a game and as a passion can mean.
Golf isn't life. it's just a small radiant corener of it, like a chip of mirror-glass, the kind where if you bring it close enough and examine carefully from a number of angels, you can see the whole world of your eye, and a surprising amount of the world around you.
A book ostensibly about golf might seem a turn-off to many readers, but Greig's book is much more than that: it's a journey through a life, as the author, recovering from a near-fatal illness, reconnects with family and friends via the medium of various golf courses throughout Scotland, from the hallowed (and groomed nearly to death) Mecca of St. Andrews to an isolated course where volunteers clear the animal skeletons and trim the grass every few weeks. Beautiful and heartbreaking and profound, and a fine complement to the author's fictional In Another Light.
Meine erste Meinung "So the day came when I climbed into the loft and came down with a former life (Und es kam der Tag an dem ich auf den Speicher stieg und mit einem früheren Leben herunterkam)...."
Nach seiner schweren Gehirnoperation ist nichts mehr so wie es war. Gerade noch einmal dem Tod von der Schippe gesprungen muss sich Andrew Greig in seinem Leben neu orientieren. Der Schriftsteller und passionierte Bergsteiger hat schon seine Kletterausrüstung an seinen Stiefsohn weitergegeben und will dasselbe mit seiner Golfausrüstung tun als er seine Meinung ändert und beschließt, das lang vernachlässigte Spiel wieder aufzunehmen. Seine Reise führt ihn vom heimatlichen Golfplatz auf North Ronaldsay auf den Orkneyinseln über Anstruther, wo sein Vater ihm das Golfspielen beibrachte zum "Endgame" in Dollar. Ganz im Sinn des Spiels erzählt er in 18 Kapiteln vom Golfspielen, seinen Freunden und seiner Familie und vom Leben mit und nach dem Tod.
Preferred lies bedeutet hier keineswegs bevorzugte Lügen. Es ist ein Ausdruck vom Golfen und bedeutet, dass man den Ball im unwegsamen Gelände ein kleines bisschen zu seinen Gunsten verschieben kann, wenn man anders nicht weiterspielen könnte. Wenn hier jemand den korrekten deutschen Ausdruck kennt: immer her damit :breitgrins:
Auf seiner Reise über 18 Golfplätze Schottlands ist Andrew Greig ungewöhnlich offen. ER erzählt von seiner Erfahrung mit dem Tod. Was genau der Grund für seine Operation war, darüber schreibt er nicht. Aber er erzählt davon, wie ihn sein Vater oder sein Kletterpartner Mal Duff während der Zeit im "Blue Shadowland" besuchten und sich mit ihm unterhielten. Dabei störte es ihn nicht, dass die beiden schon lange tot sind.
Ohnehin ist das Verhältnis zu seinen Eltern ein ganz besonderes: sein Vater starb vier Wochen vor der ersten Himalaja-Expedition, seine Mutter wird langsam senil und er ist zerrissen zwischen der Sorge um sie und dem Wunsch, endlich wieder ein normales Leben zu führen.
Jedes Kapitel hat zwei Teile: zum einen natürlich das Spiel, aber auch die Gedanken und Erinnerungen, die er mit diesem speziellen Platz verbindet. Manche sind traurig, andere nachdenklich und ein paar Dinge haben mich zum Schmunzeln gebracht. Aber alles drehte sich um die Dinge, die er am meisten liebt: Schreiben, Angeln, Klettern und Golf spielen (wobei die Reihenfolge durchaus variabel ist).
Meine zweite Meinung Ich kann nicht viel Neues schreiben, außer dass ich beim zweiten Lesen ein paar Tränchen mehr vergossen habe. Ganz besonders als er schreibt, dass er nach Mal Duffs Tod seine Kletterausrüstung verschenkt hat. Oder wie er schreibt, wie Mal am Everst gestorben ist: "He died in his sleep with a book on his chest" Oder davon, dass er immer wieder die Stimme seines Vaters hört, der ihn zum Golfspielen gebracht hat.
Es ist immer noch ein tolles Buch und man deutlich sehen, wie schwer es Andrew Greig fällt, wieder Fuß zu fassen nachdem er dem Tod gerade noch von der Schippe gesprungen ist. Manchmal habe ich nicht den Eindruck, dass er sich über diese zweite Chance wirklich freut. Vielleicht musste er auch nur wieder ankommen im Leben.
I read this in hardback when it first came out. Greig is a novelist (some of his stuff is, to say the least, difficult), but recovering from an operation he decided to set off with golf clubs and play a variety of great and special golf courses. Each chapter talks about the course, naturally, but also the people he meets. I had the extraordinary experience of reading about him meeting I actually knew (and I didn't know played golf).
Greig's central theme is whether playing alone is more enjoyable than playing with company. His conclusion is interesting. This is a golfer's book.
Disappointing for its stumbling themes and the author's professed love for golf yet general lack of appreciation for its history, customs, and rules. The edition I read had a number of unfortunate typographical errors, also an unforgivable misrepresentation of "Stapleford" [sic] scoring. The title defies explanation, and the loose ends and companions of the author's journey are most often just left along the road.
This book completely changed my golf game. Absolutely beautifully written; more about the spirit of being out there on the course (and he writes about a wild variety of Scottish courses) than playing the game. I found after I read it that I took the game far less seriously and just enjoyed the "spiritual" side of it. Absolutely wonderful.
Andrew Grieg's writing reaches into heart and soul and mind while remaining firmly grounded - in this case, playing the game he loves but gave up in mid-teens to pursue his love for popular music. As a mature person recovering from a life-threatening condition he starts again, tentatively; looking at life as he plays a series of Scotland's distinctly atmospheric courses - many alone, some with people from the past, new acquaintances... Was going to give it four stars (5 had I played golf!) but, no, it is worth five. This is a book packed with absorbing thoughts, evocative descriptions of beautiful landscape, humour and humanity by an author I am very glad to have discovered.
¨I slot the iron back in the bag, grasp the trolley handle and walk on body still singing quietly to itself that click through the wrists seconds ago, mind awake to the cool, fragrant, breeze, the clouds moving over Hoy, the tide race scouring through the Sound. A memory of playing with my friend Eddie Farrell here, the time he hit a terrible tee shot at the short 8th, and we crested the rise just in time to see his ball dribbling across the green, hit the pin and drop in. I smile, remembering Edcdie, our friendship, our laughter.¨ (p. 133)
I read this book on the plane back to the United States, AFTER spending my vacation with the Fairway to Heaven Group in St. Andrews, Scotland-May 2009. I had no idea what spiritual golf was and how it affected a life. I am glad I didn't read this book before I went on the trip (I didn't even know it existed), as I was able to enjoy my new friendships without expectations. Good golf, life book however.
This book took me rather a long time to read. It is autobiographical and gives background to the author. I preferred his fictional account of the Battle of Britain That Summer.
Better on a second reading, 18 chapters - naturally.
Not just about the game of golf, also life... Very well written book from a man who came back from the brink of death to play some of scotland's best out of the way courses.. A memorable read...