A stressed man fed up with corporate life is trying to get back to nature. When he returns to his hometown and reunites with family after a breakdown, he immerses himself in the tranquil landscape and writes in his journal about the awe of untouched wilderness. Soon he becomes obsessed with messages in nature, so much so that his girlfriend is convinced he’s losing it. Yet he is reassured when he meets a former monk who drinks a bit, who informs him that nature is at the core of human spirituality. A number of unusual events occur, including a disturbance on Hopi land, but eventually the man discovers how reconnecting with nature can restore him as well as our out-of-balance world. (Available in paperback or e-book from Amazon)
Gordon's books consider approaches to freedom in life and the actions people take to create a kinder world. Much of his writing concerns the interplay of nature, technology and humanity. His novel A Returning Wind is the journey of a man caught up in a corporate muddle compelled to seek answers in nature, whereas his non-fiction book Finding Balance: Stepping Stones for Enlightened Living is a book of reminders on finding happiness in life. Gordon's writing has been influenced by Henry David Thoreau, whose cabin on Walden Pond was located near his birthplace in Massachusetts. Today he lives in New Mexico, which still retains the kinds of untouched landscapes Thoreau so greatly admired. Gordon's work reflects his years serving as an ecology professor and also reflects his love of traveling and meeting people of diverse cultures.
I picked this up because I'm a backpacker who spends every spare weekend in the desert. Finally, a novel that gets the silence right, not the romanticized silence, but the kind that makes your ears ring. Noah's motorcycle rides through the empty canyons, his journal entries under juniper trees, the way he describes the heat radiating off rocks... this is written by someone who's actually been there. If you love Desert Solitaire, read this.
As a rock climber who's spent years in the Southwest, I'm picky about nature writing in fiction. Most authors use the desert as a backdrop. Rogowitz makes it a character. The scene where Noah strips naked and walks through the canyon during a thunderstorm, that's exactly the kind of raw, uncomfortable, beautiful experience that outdoor people understand. This book gets under your skin like red dust.
I'm a hiker and a journal-keeper. I've spent countless nights alone in the backcountry, writing by headlamp. Noah's journal entries felt so familiar. The way time stretches, the way a raven's call becomes an event, the way you start talking to rocks and snakes. This isn't a thriller. It's a slow, honest meditation on why we keep going outside. Bill Bryson meets Into the Wild but quieter and more introspective.
Read this while planning my next backpacking trip in Arizona. The accuracy of the landscape details, the junipers, the volcanic pebbles, the way sound carries in canyons, told me Rogowitz knows his terrain. The journal entries felt like something I'd scribble in my own notebook after a long day on the trail. Not a fast read, but a rewarding one. For fans of Edward Abbey and The Living Mountain.
This book found me at exactly the right moment. Burnt out from a decade in corporate, I picked it up not expecting much. But Noah's breakdown, the banging his head on the wall. The voices, felt uncomfortably real. Bill the drinking monk is worth the price alone. I've recommended this to a coworker who needs it.
I'm a trail runner and a Thoreau fan. This book surprised me. It's not action-packed, but it's rich in the way that matters to people who spend time outside. The part where Noah watches the herd of antelope and feels their collective awareness, that moment stopped me. Also, Bill the monk is the kind of trail companion we all wish we had. Scraggly, wise, and slightly drunk. Perfect.
If you've ever packed a tent, a stove, and a journal into the desert and just ... sat ... you'll understand this book. The pacing is slow because the desert is slow. The wind, the waiting, the small epiphanies. I loved the Hopi burial scene, the idea of giving back to the land instead of just taking. That's a philosophy every hiker and camper should carry. A hidden gem.
I'm a climber and a sucker for books that treat nature as more than scenery. This one does. Noah's breakdown isn't just psychological, it's physical. You feel the grit, the sunburn, the exhaustion. The motorcycle crash chapter is terrifying in its immediacy. And the near‑death vision? Haunting. If you loved Into the Wild but wished for a more hopeful ending, try this.
Finally a novel about burnout that doesn't feel like a self‑help book. Noah's anger, his father's abuse, his slow unwinding in the Arizona desert, it's all handled with such care. And Isabella? She's not a saint, which I appreciated. Messy, real, trying.
Bill Leverett might be my new favorite character in fiction. A Buddhist monk who drinks too much, flies a Piper, and says things like "Life is a series of improbable events." I laughed, I cried a little, and I underlined half his dialogue.
If you're tired of thrillers and plot driven noise, try this. It's slow, thoughtful, and filled with the smell of sagebrush and old motorcycle leather. The Hopi burial scene (p. 219) stayed with me for days. Giving back, not just taking, that hit hard.
This book is a lifeline. I've been in that gray fog after a breakdown, and Rogowitz captures it without melodrama. The scene where Noah's father tells him "Gahddamn bitch, cheating on you like that" chilling. But the hope comes through. Worth every page.
The drinking monk who used to be a Buddhist. The gopher snake with riddles. The naked thunderstorm. This book has so many odd, beautiful moments. It's not perfect, the dialogue can be stiff in places, but the heart is undeniable. I'll read it again.
If you've ever dreamed of walking away from your desk and never coming back, read this. Noah did it. He went back to his family's wreck of a ranch house and slowly, painfully, started over. It gave me courage to make some changes in my own life.
I loved how nature isn't just scenery here. It's a character. The wind carries messages, the rocks hold memories, the raven calls out "the universal moment." As a nature lover myself, I'm picky about this stuff, and Rogowitz gets it right.
The best part for me was the relationship between Noah and Isabella, not a fairy tale, but two damaged people trying to find each other again. Her affair felt real, not villainous. And his rage when he finds out? That scared me, but it was honest.
I almost put it down after the first chapter. The father's dialogue with "gahddamn" every sentence annoyed me. But I'm glad I stayed. The roughness settles into something tender. By the end, I was rooting for Noah like he was family.
The section at Chaco Canyon, where Noah sees faces in the rocks and feels the spirit of humanity turning to stone, gave me chills. This book is for people of conscience, like the author says. People who feel the world is off balance and want to believe it can change.
I'm a therapist, and I recommended this to a client recovering from work related burnout. She loved it. The portrayal of therapy (Jared, then Heri) is respectful and accurate. And the message about removing your "overcoat", shedding burdens, is so simple and true.
Five stars for Bill's journal alone: "The change in the world took only three steps: Imagining, Believing, and Taking Action." I wrote that on a sticky note and put it on my fridge. This book is a quiet call to arms for the weary.
I don't write reviews often, but this one got me. I've been recommending it to my colleagues (we read mostly nature writing and literary fiction). It sparked a great discussion about "giving back" vs. always taking. A hidden treasure.
The prose is plain, no fancy metaphors, but that's the point. It's like sitting on a rock and watching the sun go down. Honest and unhurried. If you need a break from loud books, try this. It's a deep breath.
I loved the Hopi woman Ruby and the piki bread offering. That whole sequence, Noah returning to the burial grounds to make things right was so moving. It's rare to see indigenous wisdom treated with such respect in fiction.
This book is for anyone who's ever sat alone in nature and felt something bigger. Not religious, just... connected. Rogowitz writes like someone who's actually spent time in the desert, not just read about it. I'm buying copies for my siblings. They need this.
I picked this up after a friend said, "It's like Walden but with a nervous breakdown and a drunk monk." Accurate. Noah's journey from corporate robot to canyon wanderer felt painfully true. The scene where he hits his father with the Louisville Slugger, I gasped. That kind of raw honesty is rare.
I'm not crying, you're crying. Okay, fine, I cried. At the funeral for Bill and Alice, when Nathan says "heart of pure gold" and when Noah releases their ashes into the wind. This book snuck up on me. Don't let the quiet fool you, it packs a punch.
Three things I loved: 1) Bill pulling on Noah's ears to wake him up. 2) The naked thunderstorm. 3) The final prayer with arms outstretched. This book has soul. If you're spiritually hungry but hate organized religion, try this. It's nature as church.
I almost gave up during the long teaching subplot with Isabella, it felt like a detour. But I'm glad I pushed through. The last third is worth it. The Hopi burial scene, Bill's journal, the "Age of Trust", beautiful. Just skip to page 200 if you get bored.
My therapist recommended this to me after I told her I felt like a "crumbled up piece of paper in a waste basket" (Noah's line, not mine). She was right. This book is like a slow, steady hand on your back. Not preachy. Just present. Highly recommend.
The writing is simple, almost plain, but that's the strength. No fancy tricks. Just a man, his motorcycle, and the Arizona desert. I felt the heat on my skin and the wind in my hair. Perfect for reading outside on a camping trip. Bring a highlighter.