Sam Keen, the New York Times best-selling author of Fire in the Belly , has spent a lifetime reflecting on nature. In Sightings , a collection of essays, bird watching forms the basis for observations spiritual and soulful, witty and wise. He describes his childhood ramblings in the silence of the Tennessee wilderness as feeling distinctly more spiritual than the hard pews of his grandmother's church. Later in life, the presumed extinction and subsequent rediscovery of the Ivory-billed Woodpecker prompts a meditation on the nature of the sacred. Blessed with moments of beauty and the insight to recognize them as such, Keen translates the marvels of nature into the language of heart and soul.
Sam Keen was an American author, professor, and philosopher who is best known for his exploration of questions regarding love, life, wonder, religion, and being a male in contemporary society. He co-produced Faces of the Enemy, an award-winning PBS documentary; was the subject of a Bill Moyers' television special in the early 1990s; and for 20 years served as a contributing editor at Psychology Today magazine. He was also featured in the 2003 documentary Flight from Death. Keen completed his undergraduate studies at Ursinus College in Collegeville, Pennsylvania, and later completed graduate degrees at Harvard University and Princeton University. Keen was married to Patricia de Jong, who was a former senior minister of First Congregational Church of Berkeley, United Church of Christ, in Berkeley, California.
Maybe I didn't like this book as well as I expected because I didn't really like the person Sam Keen seems to be? At one point he says, "During my childhood, my father was frequently away from home, and I was surrounded by powerful women who fervently wanted me to share their religious visions and would have willingly designed my future. Not surprisingly, my longing became attached to a species of bird [Indigo bunting] in which females remained in the background." And he makes several other remarks like this about sex or class or race or religion which had a nails-on-chalkboard effect on me. The art is nice, though.
An amazing, gentle, sometimes piercingly true book. Keen shares and perfectly captures my "trail religion," that sense of belonging and willing self-abandonment in and to the natural world. Almost immediately, a few pages in, I knew that here was a kindred spirit. This collection of vignettes feels like prayer and grace.
I adored this book. I had to force myself to slow down so I could savor both the rich writing and the delightful illustrations. I highlighted at least one (if not more) passage in each essay and I fully expect this to be a book I pick up to reread more than once in the years to come.
I highly recommend that you enter this book with a philosophical, spiritual mindset. The writing can be a bit dense, perhaps even flowery, but meeting the author halfway may yield positive results. If you're willing to have that conversation about our place in the universe, our interconnectedness with the world, and how all that relates to birds, then this will be for you.
I absolutely loved this book because it ended up being so much more than I thought it would be. I've had it "on the shelf" with the intention of reading it for a long time and I'm so glad I finally did. The author describes how he grew up in the church and had a crisis of belief and was questioning his faith, but how nature has become a way to be close to God. He describes his own encounters with birds in the wild and fabled stories of rare birds. It was a lovely look at nature and another example of being outdoors can bring people closer to the earth, themselves, and the divine.
“At any moment, an elm tree, a child playing in a sandbox, or the appearance of a mysterious bird may throw us into the most primal of all emotions—ontological wonder—and leave us with the question that can never be answered but must always be asked: why is there anything rather than nothing?”
Who doesn’t love a good mix of metaphysics and birdwatching? Recommend/10
This was a lovely addition to our morning basket. I read it out loud to the kids one chapter at a time, but there were a few bits not appropriate for younger ears that I skipped over if those under highschool were still listening. Keen's prose, the way he wrestles with religion, and his admiration for the natural world, all made for great conversation with my highschooler.
Maybe 3.5 stars. I found the opening and closing essays off-putting (too holier-than-thou for my taste) so that put me off, but the middle parts were full of wonder.
Rambling and philosophical essays about birds and other creatures. I rated this high for the lovely illustrations and for the way the compact book felt nice in my hands.
This was . . . fine. Less than compelling--it took me the better part of a month to finish a very short collection of essays--but fine.
Keen uses his life-long love of birds to structure various autobiographical anecdotes, like a bead on a strong, each essay tied to a particular bird. The writing is best when it focuses on the interactions, the small moments, and doesn't try so hard to make Meaning(TM) out of each episode. But let's be honest: this whole book is about making meaning.
So what could have been very nice glimpses of life become something More. The two best essays are the way his love of birds helped him forge connections with a young teacher at his school, and a poor white woman from the Appalachia. In the end, though, the personal is set aside for him to extract his meaning. This is especially hard to take in the second of these two essays. In that one, he is on the hunt for the Ivory Billed Woodpecker. The girl's brother accidentally shoots some woodpecker, but Keen refuses to look at it, and so is left to wonder: was this a typical pileated woodpecker, or one of the last of the Ivory Billed?
Other stories similarly indulge the hard-to-believe. He befriends a flock of turkeys, for example, and one of the females seems to present herself for mating (!). He simply bets the bird. But the interaction is used as an example of how we can all become closer to the wildlife that surrounds us. It's a fine sentiment (fine!), but it grates a bit coming from a writer who lives in the ridiculous comfort of rural Sonoma County. (Were we only all so lucky.) I'm sure Keen's life has had its ups and downs like anyone, and he had a hard-scrabble youth, but still . . .
For the most part, the birds here are only vehicles. Not only excuses for his own stories, but for transportation out of the mundane realm altogether. Keen has a Jungian-Buddhist thing going on, with filigrees of Christianity and Judaism, and communion with nature is never just about communion with nature. It's communion with Nature so that humans can transcend the everyday world and reach the numinous--some mysterious, otherwise-indescribable state. He makes certain never to spell out the word God.
Again, which is all fine. He's certainly not the only one who looks to nature for transcendence. Rather, he stands in a long, long line of American nature writing, dating back to the mid-19th century. If he doesn't do anything here to extend that tradition, rework it, or develop, he also doesn't abuse it either.
Depending upon one's tolerance for Romantic uses of nature to further the growth of the human self--one will like this book or not in a direct relationship.
"Birders and other mystics are blessed with a special kind of vision of the world--the capacity to see eternity in a grain of sand or the presence of the sacred in the precision flying of a flock of blackbirds." ~ Sam Keen
"...we live under a 'cloud of unknowing' in a sacred cosmos in which we may be addressed in extraordinary ways by ordinary events." ~Jacob Boehm
This book was not what I expected at all - but I really liked it. I wasn't sure what to expect when I picked this up - I felt like the Introduction was setting this up to be a religious book, but turns out it was philosophy. I may get more of Mr. Keen's books now.
A jewel of a book - the spiritual side of bird watching, one of my favorite hobbies. This book touches on the wonder of birds - very beautiful. Thanks, Christopher!