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Ein Jahr in der Natur
Ein frühes Meisterwerk des Nature Writing, zauberhaft bebildert von Andrea Wan.
Ausgehend von ihrer siebenunddreißig Hektar großen Farm in Ohio, die Josephine Johnson und ihr Mann in Wildnis zurücküberführt haben, beobachtet sie Monat für Monat die sich verändernde Landschaft mit der Präzision einer Naturforscherin und der Sprache einer Dichterin. Die Pracht der Landschaft blitzt auf, der unaufhaltsame Zyklus von Wachstum und Vergänglichkeit, es wimmelt von kleinen und großen Lebewesen, die parallel zu den Menschen in und mit der Natur existieren. Es entsteht eine poetische wie lebendige Reflexion, die das Wunder und die Kraft der Natur genauso einfängt wie die Zeichen ihrer Zerstörung, ihre Schönheit und Sterblichkeit ebenso greifbar macht wie die mit ihr verbundene Hoffnung. Ursprünglich 1969 veröffentlicht, hat Josephine Jonson mit diesem Buch eine zeitlose wie brillante Chronik der Jahreszeiten geschaffen.
Das erfolgreichste Buch der Pulitzer-Preisträgerin Josephine Johnson, erstmals auf Deutsch – ein immerwährender Kalender über die Schönheit der Jahreszeiten in zwölf Monats-Kapiteln.
Ausgehend von ihrer siebenunddreißig Hektar großen Farm in Ohio, die Josephine Johnson und ihr Mann in Wildnis zurücküberführt haben, beobachtet sie Monat für Monat die sich verändernde Landschaft mit der Präzision einer Naturforscherin und der Sprache einer Dichterin. Die Pracht der Landschaft blitzt auf, der unaufhaltsame Zyklus von Wachstum und Vergänglichkeit, es wimmelt von kleinen und großen Lebewesen, die parallel zu den Menschen in und mit der Natur existieren. Es entsteht eine poetische wie lebendige Reflexion, die das Wunder und die Kraft der Natur genauso einfängt wie die Zeichen ihrer Zerstörung, ihre Schönheit und Sterblichkeit ebenso greifbar macht wie die mit ihr verbundene Hoffnung. Ursprünglich 1969 veröffentlicht, hat Josephine Jonson mit diesem Buch eine zeitlose wie brillante Chronik der Jahreszeiten geschaffen.
Das erfolgreichste Buch der Pulitzer-Preisträgerin Josephine Johnson, erstmals auf Deutsch – ein immerwährender Kalender über die Schönheit der Jahreszeiten in zwölf Monats-Kapiteln.
- GenresNatureNonfictionMemoir
250 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1969
16 people are currently reading
448 people want to read
About the author
Josephine Winslow Johnson
17 books56 followersAmerican novelist, poet, and essayist who won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1935 at age 24 for her first novel, Now in November. Shortly thereafter, she published Winter Orchard, a collection of short stories that had previously appeared in Atlantic Monthly, Vanity Fair, The St. Louis Review, and Hound & Horn. Of these stories, "Dark" won an O. Henry Award in 1934[1], and "John the Six" won an O. Henry Award third prize the following year. Johnson continued writing short stories and won three more O. Henry Awards: for "Alexander to the Park" (1942), "The Glass Pigeon" (1943), and "Night Flight" (1944).
Johnson was bornin Kirkwood, Missouri. She attended Washington University from 1926 to 1931, but did not earn a degree. She wrote her first novel, Now In November, while living in her mother's attic in Webster Groves, Missouri. She remained on her farm in Webster Groves and completed Winter Orchard in 1935. She published four more books before marrying Grant G. Cannon, editor in chief of the Farm Quarterly, in 1942. The couple moved to Iowa City, where she taught at the University of Iowa for the next three years. They moved to Hamilton County, Ohio in 1947, where she published Wildwood.
Johnson had three children. The Cannons continued to move beyond the advancing urban sprawl of Cincinnati, finally settling on the wooded acreage in Clermont County, Ohio, which is the setting of The Inland Island. In 1955, Washington University awarded her an honorary Doctor of Humane Letters degree.
She published four more books before her death, from pneumonia, on February 27, 1990, in Batavia, Ohio at age 79.[2] (Wiki)
Johnson was bornin Kirkwood, Missouri. She attended Washington University from 1926 to 1931, but did not earn a degree. She wrote her first novel, Now In November, while living in her mother's attic in Webster Groves, Missouri. She remained on her farm in Webster Groves and completed Winter Orchard in 1935. She published four more books before marrying Grant G. Cannon, editor in chief of the Farm Quarterly, in 1942. The couple moved to Iowa City, where she taught at the University of Iowa for the next three years. They moved to Hamilton County, Ohio in 1947, where she published Wildwood.
Johnson had three children. The Cannons continued to move beyond the advancing urban sprawl of Cincinnati, finally settling on the wooded acreage in Clermont County, Ohio, which is the setting of The Inland Island. In 1955, Washington University awarded her an honorary Doctor of Humane Letters degree.
She published four more books before her death, from pneumonia, on February 27, 1990, in Batavia, Ohio at age 79.[2] (Wiki)
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Displaying 1 - 24 of 24 reviews
August 30, 2024
What a strange little book. Reading at times like a nature primer, a stream of consciousness practice, and an anti-war rant, Josephine Johnson's month-by-month tribute to her patch of land and the animals that inhabit it is a literary piece badly in need of an editor.
Rambling, unfocused, and sometimes meandering off in directions that have no resolution, it's not an easy book to read. There are moments of real beauty, as in the following passage:
The feeling of all this unknown creature-life that passes and repasses here brings on a curious dreamlike feeling of enchantment. It is the seed of fairy tales, the seeking of lost valleys. Timeless pockets in the world of time. Either I should not ever leave, or I should not return again.
Now that's lovely, and the book is sprinkled with more of the same. However, Johnson decided that it wasn't good enough to write about the natural world. Instead, she added strange references to the ongoing Vietnam war (this book was published in 1969), oblique references about the quality of life in the elderly, a couple of agnostic/atheistic moralizations with some pagan wisdom thrown in for good measure. It needed only the addition of: "Kumbiya, my Lord, Kumbiya", and I'm just about ready to throw on my tie-dyed sundress, throw a flower in my headband and run barefoot through the mary-jane scented fields at Woodstock --WTH does any of that have to do with chickadees, deer, muskrats and racoons?
A book ruined, IMO, with observations that had nothing to do with the scope of the book. She should have written another book to address her anti-war activism and left this book alone.
Rambling, unfocused, and sometimes meandering off in directions that have no resolution, it's not an easy book to read. There are moments of real beauty, as in the following passage:
The feeling of all this unknown creature-life that passes and repasses here brings on a curious dreamlike feeling of enchantment. It is the seed of fairy tales, the seeking of lost valleys. Timeless pockets in the world of time. Either I should not ever leave, or I should not return again.
Now that's lovely, and the book is sprinkled with more of the same. However, Johnson decided that it wasn't good enough to write about the natural world. Instead, she added strange references to the ongoing Vietnam war (this book was published in 1969), oblique references about the quality of life in the elderly, a couple of agnostic/atheistic moralizations with some pagan wisdom thrown in for good measure. It needed only the addition of: "Kumbiya, my Lord, Kumbiya", and I'm just about ready to throw on my tie-dyed sundress, throw a flower in my headband and run barefoot through the mary-jane scented fields at Woodstock --WTH does any of that have to do with chickadees, deer, muskrats and racoons?
A book ruined, IMO, with observations that had nothing to do with the scope of the book. She should have written another book to address her anti-war activism and left this book alone.
October 13, 2025
Josephine Johnson und ihr Mann Grant G. Cannon haben eine 37-ha-Farm in Clermont County Ohio (davon 16 ha Wald) renaturiert, von der die fast 60-jährige Autorin im hier vorliegenden „The Inland Island“ offenbar Abschied nimmt, nachdem die Kinder aus dem Haus sind. Im Erscheinungsjahr des Buches 1969 wirkt Johnson verbittert und wünscht sie endlich eine Welt ohne Kriege. Goldrute, Brombeere und Holunder haben längst die Herrschaft übernommen und Johnson wird bewusst, dass Bäume vor dem Tod durch Strauchwuchs bewahrt werden müssen, wenn ihr Besitzer Bäume gedeihen sehen möchte. Auf die Frage, wie man am besten ein Naturschutzgebiet anlegen würde, hatte der staatliche Förster den Johnsons/Cannons geantwortet: Lehnen Sie sich zurück und beobachten Sie.
Chronologisch im Jahreslauf und geordnet nach Pflanzen und Tieren schreibt die Autorin ihre Beobachtungen nieder. Die Anzahl an Sichtungen und die Vielfalt der Arten (inclusive Opossum, Skunk, Streifenhörnchen, aber auch Unscheinbares und wenig Nützliches wie Läuse, Raupen und Schaben) überwältigt mich als europäische Leserin. Johnson zeichnet ihre Beobachtungen strukturiert auf, zeigt dabei Sinn für Muster wie Bienenwaben oder Eisschollen auf den Bachläufen. In ihrer Anfangszeit als Birderin war der Farmbesitzerin noch nüchtern mitgeteilt worden, Frauen könnten Vögel nicht zu ihrem Hobby wählen, weil ihre Gehirnkapazität von den vielen Arten überfordert wäre. Johnsons Respekt für die Vielfalt der Arten unterstützt die Ausgabe von „Ein Jahr in der Natur“ durch die Illustrationen von Andrea Wan wie auch durch Arten-Register für jedes einzelne Kapitel.
Der einsetzende Schnee als letzter Vorhang symbolisiert an den letzten Tagen des Jahres eindringlich das Ende von Johnsons produktivem Schaffen als Autorin.
Wer Sinn für den Jahreslauf als Abbild einer Lebensspanne hat, wird an dem Buch Freude haben.
Chronologisch im Jahreslauf und geordnet nach Pflanzen und Tieren schreibt die Autorin ihre Beobachtungen nieder. Die Anzahl an Sichtungen und die Vielfalt der Arten (inclusive Opossum, Skunk, Streifenhörnchen, aber auch Unscheinbares und wenig Nützliches wie Läuse, Raupen und Schaben) überwältigt mich als europäische Leserin. Johnson zeichnet ihre Beobachtungen strukturiert auf, zeigt dabei Sinn für Muster wie Bienenwaben oder Eisschollen auf den Bachläufen. In ihrer Anfangszeit als Birderin war der Farmbesitzerin noch nüchtern mitgeteilt worden, Frauen könnten Vögel nicht zu ihrem Hobby wählen, weil ihre Gehirnkapazität von den vielen Arten überfordert wäre. Johnsons Respekt für die Vielfalt der Arten unterstützt die Ausgabe von „Ein Jahr in der Natur“ durch die Illustrationen von Andrea Wan wie auch durch Arten-Register für jedes einzelne Kapitel.
Der einsetzende Schnee als letzter Vorhang symbolisiert an den letzten Tagen des Jahres eindringlich das Ende von Johnsons produktivem Schaffen als Autorin.
Wer Sinn für den Jahreslauf als Abbild einer Lebensspanne hat, wird an dem Buch Freude haben.
July 21, 2022
Josephine W. Johnson gives an intimate and in depth look at nature and wildlife over the course of a year at her 37 acre farm in Ohio in The Island Island. Written where one chapter covers a month, we see the seasonal and phenological changes of a year in Ohio. Johnson's writing makes everything seem beautiful, even when it is bleak. She has a talent for making the everyday and mundane leap off the page. I enjoyed her descriptions of the birds, toads, flowers and the weather. Johnson focuses on more than just the big picture. I loved when she got excited at new animal sightings. More than just descriptive of the world around her, Johnson incorporates her feelings into her observations and at the time she wrote The Inland Island, her feelings of the Vietnam War are heavily on her mind and mixed into her observations of the natural world. Reading The Inland Island felt like taking a walk through my backyard with a friend, enjoyable, eye-opening and peaceful.
This book was received for free in return for an honest review.
This book was received for free in return for an honest review.
February 21, 2020
This is the second book I've read by a new author [to me] whom I discovered recently: Josephine Johnson (1910-1990). Her first book, "Now In November", won the Pulitzer Prize in 1935 when she was only 24. She never won another one, though she was recognized later for some of her short stories & poems. She was a strong woman: direct, feisty, brutally honest, a pacifist & environmentalist. I would call her writing "narrative poetry", so outstanding is her way with words.
"The Inland Island" was written between 1967-1968, when Johnson was almost 57. Her husband, Grant Cannon, died soon after. She remained on the 37 acre inland island, which they had purchased & kept as a natural preservation area, until her death in 1990. The book is a record of her reflections, month by month, over a year's time, of what she observed as she constantly walked & observed the property. It reveals how extremely observant Johnson was & how widely her knowledge about nature: plants, animals, flora & fauna, the insect world, extended.
This was also written at the height of the Vietnam War. Her statement of opposition to, not only the war, but to the root causes of the war & the militant mentality of America, the monstrous loss of life & the ruination of the country on all levels is one of the most eloquent testimonies I've ever read. It touched my heart personally, not only because I myself lived through those times in opposition to the same things, but also because of the experiences of a twice-wounded family member (who survived) & the death of a good friend, a USAF pilot who was MIA after being shot down, whose remains were identified only some 20+ years later, and whose name is among those on the National Vietnam War Memorial.
Josephine Johnson's words cry out especially in the face of the current situation of our nation:
"The Pentagon is the greatest power on earth today. We cannot absorb the Pentagon into an image. We cannot fit it anywhere in the natural world, relate to it, compare it. There it sits, a terrible mass of concrete, on our minds, on our hearts, squat on top of our lives. Its power penetrates into every single life. It is the very air we breathe. The water we drink. Because of its insatiable demands we are drained and we are polluted...It is the greatest unnatural disaster of the world. We can call it a cancer in the body of the world...make no mistake about this. No matter what is said is happening, this is what is happening--death instead of life. Death of the heart, death of the mind, and death of the body..."
"The Inland Island" was written between 1967-1968, when Johnson was almost 57. Her husband, Grant Cannon, died soon after. She remained on the 37 acre inland island, which they had purchased & kept as a natural preservation area, until her death in 1990. The book is a record of her reflections, month by month, over a year's time, of what she observed as she constantly walked & observed the property. It reveals how extremely observant Johnson was & how widely her knowledge about nature: plants, animals, flora & fauna, the insect world, extended.
This was also written at the height of the Vietnam War. Her statement of opposition to, not only the war, but to the root causes of the war & the militant mentality of America, the monstrous loss of life & the ruination of the country on all levels is one of the most eloquent testimonies I've ever read. It touched my heart personally, not only because I myself lived through those times in opposition to the same things, but also because of the experiences of a twice-wounded family member (who survived) & the death of a good friend, a USAF pilot who was MIA after being shot down, whose remains were identified only some 20+ years later, and whose name is among those on the National Vietnam War Memorial.
Josephine Johnson's words cry out especially in the face of the current situation of our nation:
"The Pentagon is the greatest power on earth today. We cannot absorb the Pentagon into an image. We cannot fit it anywhere in the natural world, relate to it, compare it. There it sits, a terrible mass of concrete, on our minds, on our hearts, squat on top of our lives. Its power penetrates into every single life. It is the very air we breathe. The water we drink. Because of its insatiable demands we are drained and we are polluted...It is the greatest unnatural disaster of the world. We can call it a cancer in the body of the world...make no mistake about this. No matter what is said is happening, this is what is happening--death instead of life. Death of the heart, death of the mind, and death of the body..."
February 12, 2025
****(*)
Als je vaak hetzelfde soort boeken leest, ga je op den duur natuurlijk heel wat van hetzelfde lezen. Ik blijf teruggrijpen naar new nature writing en merk dat ik steeds minder verrast wordt, vaker lees wat ik elders al gelezen heb en voortdurend op dezelfde plekken terecht kom. Tot ik Binneneiland las. Josephine Johnson nam me een jaar lang mee in haar tuin en liet me kennismaken met alles wat er leeft en groeit. Niets bijzonders zou je zeggen. Niets meer dan al die andere boeken inderdaad. Maar de eerste maanden overklaste haar taal ieder stukje groen dat ik hier om me heen tegenkwam. Haar poëzie (en wellicht ook de schitterende vertaling) warmde me niet zachtjes, maar vurig op voor het steeds weer willen wegduiken in kleine natuurbeschrijvingen. Het jaar schreed voort en ik wilde meer van haar tuin, meer van haar taal, meer van haar verhaal. Maar dat verhaal schreed minder met het jaar en meer met de oorlog die ergens ver weg woedde. Het werd korter, bitsiger, gehaast ook en meer moraal. Ik rolde zachtjes uit haar tuin en moet nu elders een eilandje zien te vinden.
Als je vaak hetzelfde soort boeken leest, ga je op den duur natuurlijk heel wat van hetzelfde lezen. Ik blijf teruggrijpen naar new nature writing en merk dat ik steeds minder verrast wordt, vaker lees wat ik elders al gelezen heb en voortdurend op dezelfde plekken terecht kom. Tot ik Binneneiland las. Josephine Johnson nam me een jaar lang mee in haar tuin en liet me kennismaken met alles wat er leeft en groeit. Niets bijzonders zou je zeggen. Niets meer dan al die andere boeken inderdaad. Maar de eerste maanden overklaste haar taal ieder stukje groen dat ik hier om me heen tegenkwam. Haar poëzie (en wellicht ook de schitterende vertaling) warmde me niet zachtjes, maar vurig op voor het steeds weer willen wegduiken in kleine natuurbeschrijvingen. Het jaar schreed voort en ik wilde meer van haar tuin, meer van haar taal, meer van haar verhaal. Maar dat verhaal schreed minder met het jaar en meer met de oorlog die ergens ver weg woedde. Het werd korter, bitsiger, gehaast ook en meer moraal. Ik rolde zachtjes uit haar tuin en moet nu elders een eilandje zien te vinden.
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December 22, 2022Now in November is Josephine W. Johnson’s Pulitzer Prize winning debut novel. Published in 1934, when she was 25, the book remains fantastic. Focused on the women in a farming family and on a small farming community in crisis, the book describes the land and its inhabitants with equal measures of scrutiny and grace.
Nearly 35 years later, Josephine Winslow Johnson returned her gracious and scrutinizing attention to the land and its inhabitants. This time in a memoir about her own rewilded farm. I love reading these two books together, watching the same mind simultaneously root down and evolve.
Simon and Schuster re-released both books recently, and I was lucky to be introduced to Johnson’s work when they invited me to write an introduction to the memoir, Inland Island. It’s been a gift to come to know this author at the start and near the end of her career. I highly recommend both books.
Nearly 35 years later, Josephine Winslow Johnson returned her gracious and scrutinizing attention to the land and its inhabitants. This time in a memoir about her own rewilded farm. I love reading these two books together, watching the same mind simultaneously root down and evolve.
Simon and Schuster re-released both books recently, and I was lucky to be introduced to Johnson’s work when they invited me to write an introduction to the memoir, Inland Island. It’s been a gift to come to know this author at the start and near the end of her career. I highly recommend both books.
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May 30, 2009cant find online... sad...
February 2, 2025
I read her Pulitzer prize winning novel, Now in November, which was published in 1934. This was published in 1969!
Her vocabulary and knowledge of nature is impressive.
Her descriptions are poetic and use lots of onomatopoeia!
She is smart & funny and intersperses meaningful comments on war, and the civil rights movement, which was much on her mind as a pacifist. I do love it when she is snarky about animals she dislikes!
Every chapter is a month, this is what A Country Year by Sue Hubbell wanted to be.
Notable quotes:
"There's no room for oak trees in this world."
"These spring pools of flowers, rising year after year in the same place, are a recurring joy that never fails."
"So snap to it and appreciate the living. Live the summers now.That's all you'll ever have. They're all anybody will ever have. Wipe the fog off your glasses and you'll see the living people around. This is their now. This is all there is. Be kind now."
"There should be parks of greenness everywhere. This is a mad world of roads and concrete blocks and people going somewhere else because they can't stand to be where they are, because they've ruined where they are, to get somewhere else which is ruined, to come back to where they were."
" I feel an empathy toward this fruit. Green until old. Ripe with black spots. Possible Dermatitis given by handling the skin of. Off-beat. Off fragrance. .... Slow, heavy, fat and green.... One could write a poem to the pawpaw fruit...
But it is hard to take small fat things seriously."
"Old people who live too long come to resemble turtles."
"The small animals and birds go about their ancient and patterned ways. They do not enlarge their territories or change their patterns in order that they may kill and die more quickly. They do not care about us one way or another. They do not know what we are doing. They do not know what we have done."
"It is terrible to wake at night and be unable to breathe. To feel one is dying. And when it passes there is a weight left. The knowledge that all over the world human beings wake in prisons, wake in hospitals, wake in pain. Wake, and their pain does not pass. this terrible year draws to an end. Young people are beaten and jailed because they will not kill."
Her vocabulary and knowledge of nature is impressive.
Her descriptions are poetic and use lots of onomatopoeia!
She is smart & funny and intersperses meaningful comments on war, and the civil rights movement, which was much on her mind as a pacifist. I do love it when she is snarky about animals she dislikes!
Every chapter is a month, this is what A Country Year by Sue Hubbell wanted to be.
Notable quotes:
"There's no room for oak trees in this world."
"These spring pools of flowers, rising year after year in the same place, are a recurring joy that never fails."
"So snap to it and appreciate the living. Live the summers now.That's all you'll ever have. They're all anybody will ever have. Wipe the fog off your glasses and you'll see the living people around. This is their now. This is all there is. Be kind now."
"There should be parks of greenness everywhere. This is a mad world of roads and concrete blocks and people going somewhere else because they can't stand to be where they are, because they've ruined where they are, to get somewhere else which is ruined, to come back to where they were."
" I feel an empathy toward this fruit. Green until old. Ripe with black spots. Possible Dermatitis given by handling the skin of. Off-beat. Off fragrance. .... Slow, heavy, fat and green.... One could write a poem to the pawpaw fruit...
But it is hard to take small fat things seriously."
"Old people who live too long come to resemble turtles."
"The small animals and birds go about their ancient and patterned ways. They do not enlarge their territories or change their patterns in order that they may kill and die more quickly. They do not care about us one way or another. They do not know what we are doing. They do not know what we have done."
"It is terrible to wake at night and be unable to breathe. To feel one is dying. And when it passes there is a weight left. The knowledge that all over the world human beings wake in prisons, wake in hospitals, wake in pain. Wake, and their pain does not pass. this terrible year draws to an end. Young people are beaten and jailed because they will not kill."
October 11, 2024
Binneneiland. Door: Josephine Johnson.
Als grote fan van Pelgrim langs Tinker Creek (Annie Dillard) wou ik heel graag Binneneiland lezen.
In de jaren ’60 koopt Johnson samen met haar man een boerderij met daaromheen een grote lap grond die ze laten verwilderen. Een jaar lang loopt zij daar rond, als een soort van gids, voor ons lezers. Ze beschrijft wat ze ziet, voelt, ruikt. Maand na maand noteert ze de veranderingen en de bezoekers die langskomen. Een grote verscheidenheid aan vogels maar ook vossen (wil ik ook zien!), buidelratten, katten, wasberen, bladluizen en lieveheersbeestjes.
Elk dier, elke plant, elk weerfenomeen wordt poëtisch beschreven en vaak krijgen we ook een heel gedetailleerde beschrijving van bijvoorbeeld de levenscyclus of de opbouw van het lichaam van een insect. Door te lezen leer je bij.
Johnson is niet doof en blind voor de buitenwereld: ze wordt ziek van de oorlog (Vietnam) die er woedt, de milieuvervuiling (toen al), het tekort aan groen in steden en zo veel meer. Daarom past zij in het rijtje van prachtige boeken dat momenteel verschijnt; zoals Graafdier (Dekker) en De Mierenkaravaan (Heitman).
Binneneiland is een boek dat je zin geeft om naar buiten te gaan, in elk seizoen. Fijn! Als er iemand een ferme hoop geld overheeft mag die me altijd wat geven: dan koop ik ook een grond om te laten verwilderen. Zin in!
Als grote fan van Pelgrim langs Tinker Creek (Annie Dillard) wou ik heel graag Binneneiland lezen.
In de jaren ’60 koopt Johnson samen met haar man een boerderij met daaromheen een grote lap grond die ze laten verwilderen. Een jaar lang loopt zij daar rond, als een soort van gids, voor ons lezers. Ze beschrijft wat ze ziet, voelt, ruikt. Maand na maand noteert ze de veranderingen en de bezoekers die langskomen. Een grote verscheidenheid aan vogels maar ook vossen (wil ik ook zien!), buidelratten, katten, wasberen, bladluizen en lieveheersbeestjes.
Elk dier, elke plant, elk weerfenomeen wordt poëtisch beschreven en vaak krijgen we ook een heel gedetailleerde beschrijving van bijvoorbeeld de levenscyclus of de opbouw van het lichaam van een insect. Door te lezen leer je bij.
Johnson is niet doof en blind voor de buitenwereld: ze wordt ziek van de oorlog (Vietnam) die er woedt, de milieuvervuiling (toen al), het tekort aan groen in steden en zo veel meer. Daarom past zij in het rijtje van prachtige boeken dat momenteel verschijnt; zoals Graafdier (Dekker) en De Mierenkaravaan (Heitman).
Binneneiland is een boek dat je zin geeft om naar buiten te gaan, in elk seizoen. Fijn! Als er iemand een ferme hoop geld overheeft mag die me altijd wat geven: dan koop ik ook een grond om te laten verwilderen. Zin in!
February 20, 2025
Ik las eerder van haar Nu in November (1934) waarmee ze jongste Pulitzerprijs-winnares werd (en nog is) e, of die toekenning terecht was. Dit tweede boek dat ik van haar las dateert van 1969. De schrijfster leidt ons rond in haar 39 hectare groot terrein en laat ons, met maandelijkse timing, meekijken en luisteren wat ze ziet aan flora en fauna. Een natuurliefhebster met flink wat biologische kennis en waarnemingsvaardigheid, gecombineerd met een literaire licht poëtische deskundigheid.
Ik las het bijna aan het ritme van de maanden, omdat de veelheid van natuurbeschrijvingen anders amper te consumeren was.
Maar ook bekommernissen over milieuproblematiek, menselijk ingrijpen, vrede en oorlog (Vietnam) en filosofische overpeinzingen komen aan bod.
Ik las het bijna aan het ritme van de maanden, omdat de veelheid van natuurbeschrijvingen anders amper te consumeren was.
Maar ook bekommernissen over milieuproblematiek, menselijk ingrijpen, vrede en oorlog (Vietnam) en filosofische overpeinzingen komen aan bod.
April 17, 2025
"Vivete le estati di adesso: è tutto quello che avete". Un calendario di osservazioni ecologiche e divagazioni filosofiche, dodici mesi raccontati dal succedersi degli elementi e degli esseri viventi, ma anche dal dimenarsi della "volpe interiore" dell'autrice. Josephine Johnson è stata Premio Pulitzer nel 1935, eppure sconsiglio la lettura di questo intimo diario di campagna al lettore che non abbia un legame profondo ed identitario con la natura ed il selvatico. È un libro strano, cangiante e toccante, a tratti doloroso, sicuramente da risfogliare.
December 3, 2025
a commentary about the changing natural year month by month, noting the birds, plants, living creatures and landscape. The illustrations are lovely. The prose is muddled. The poetry interspersed with the text is obtuse. The author's reflections on the Viet Nam war date the book and seem intrusive. Some passages are truly lovely, evoking a mood of the season, but there are too many flaws to merit more than a rating of 3 stars.
April 27, 2020
This genre of book is one I especially like but I didn't realize until this one that I like the timelessness. Most nature essays could be written at any time they are not tied to current events. This books essays are very aware of the Vietnam War and because of that I couldn't really relax into them.
August 11, 2021
A slow and deliberate stroll through the author's country land with thoughtful descriptions of the wildlife found. The book is divided into 12 sections, one for each month of the year, as she catalogs the changes through the seasons.
A beautiful choice to read each section in it's month. Good for holiday present giving. First reprint in 50 years due May 2022.
A beautiful choice to read each section in it's month. Good for holiday present giving. First reprint in 50 years due May 2022.
abandoned
August 27, 2023It sounds like the kind of book I would enjoy, but I think I don’t like the reader on the audiobook. I’m open to trying to read a hard copy.
October 2, 2024
Beetles are cool
April 21, 2025
Al lezend maak je een wandeling door de natuur, heerlijk rustgevend.
August 1, 2025
a stroll through the earth from a different perspective and environment. not what i expected but maybe more what i need. confused at times but it a good way?? good book to read at work
November 23, 2025
2.5 stars.
January 7, 2026
Poëtisch maar haast niet doorheen te komen
June 19, 2023
"God, I loathe the sentimentality we are drowning in. We are killing with."
"How can I hold such bitterness in this white snow on this lovely darkening land? Because there is nothing in all of nature that can compare to this enormous dying of a nation's soul."
Pitched as a Walden for the 1960s, this lives up to that for better and for worse. There's some really interesting, charged writing in this, but like Walden, this can feel unfocused and self-indulgent and it meanders from observations of birds, musings on the Vietnam war and civil rights, then back to long-winded discussions of insects.
An interesting read, sure, but getting through it was a bit of a slog.
"How can I hold such bitterness in this white snow on this lovely darkening land? Because there is nothing in all of nature that can compare to this enormous dying of a nation's soul."
Pitched as a Walden for the 1960s, this lives up to that for better and for worse. There's some really interesting, charged writing in this, but like Walden, this can feel unfocused and self-indulgent and it meanders from observations of birds, musings on the Vietnam war and civil rights, then back to long-winded discussions of insects.
An interesting read, sure, but getting through it was a bit of a slog.
May 3, 2023
Josephine Johnson challenges us to look closely at our surroundings, especially our natural surroundings. Not just to look closely, but to listen closely and to smell closely. Though, she is acutely aware of all that is destroying our earth, she can’t help but be in love with every little detail of it and to desperately hold on tight.
January 25, 2024
Lasciato al quarto capitolo, sembra una telecronaca degli uccelli nel suo giardino con pensieri sociologici sul mondo moderno molto sparsi. Boh forse un giorno ci ritorno ma non mi ha preso per nulla.
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