Impossible Owls: Essays

by Brian Phillips

A globe-spanning, ambitious book of essays from one of the most enthralling storytellers in narrative nonfiction

In his highly anticipated debut essay collection, Impossible Owls, Brian Phillips demonstrates why he's one of the most iconoclastic journalists of the digital age, beloved for his ambitious, off-kilter, meticulously reported essays that read like novels.

The eight essays assembled here--five from Phillips's Grantland and MTV days, and three new pieces--go beyond simply chronicling some of the modern world's most uncanny, unbelievable, and spectacular oddities (though they do that, too). Researched for months and even years on end, they explore the interconnectedness of the globalized world, the consequences of history, the power of myth, and the ways people attempt to find meaning. He searches for tigers in India, and uncovers a multigenerational mystery involving an oil tycoon and his niece turned stepdaughter turned wife in the Oklahoma town where he grew up. Through each adventure, Phillips's remarkable voice becomes a character itself--full of verve, rich with offhanded humor, and revealing unexpected vulnerability.

Dogged, self-aware, and radiating a contagious enthusiasm for his subjects, Phillips is an exhilarating guide to the confusion and wonder of the world today. If John Jeremiah Sullivan's Pulphead was the last great collection of New Journalism from the print era, Impossible Owls is the first of the digital age.

Genres: Essays, Nonfiction, Short Stories, Memoir, Audiobook, Ebooks, History

352 pages, Paperback

First published October 2, 2018

About the author

Brian Phillips is a staff writer at The Ringer and has previously written for Grantland, MTV News, The New Yorker, and other publications.

Impossible Owls is is first book.

Reviews

[Steve · Rating 5 out of 5]

Now that Brian Phillips has had a book of his entertaining and informative essays published, the rest of the reading world has a ready way to find out what fans of his online work have known for some time: this guy is a major talent. As a writer, he ticks so many boxes. Actually, for the purposes of this review, let’s say instead that he rates at the graphical extremes of multiple favorable traits. I don’t know what these charts below are called. Nate Silver and the stats gurus at FiveThirtyEight use pentagons, nice colors, and real data to produce theirs. My staff of one, paid the same as a TSA employee (in day 26 of the government shutdown), uses the only polygon his software offers (the lowly triangle), and plots falsely precise looking data based purely on his own opinion. But I hope it makes the point about how well Phillips stacks up alongside some of his celebrated essay-writing peers.

Literary nonfiction, the type you might find in The New Yorker or Harper's Magazine, can showcase both great writing and unexpected topics. Some of my favorite practitioners of the art (and their works I’ve read) are David Foster Wallace (A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again and Consider the Lobster), John Jeremiah Sullivan (Pulphead), and Joan Didion (Slouching Towards Bethlehem). In the Trait Triangles below, I indicate how I assess each one of them by various criteria. The further out the bold red lines extend, the higher I rate the writer’s abilities in those dimensions.

The points on the first set of triangles are for the quality of writing, the abundance of insight, and the coolness quotient of chosen topics. As you can see, all four writers have substantial red areas. These writers are favorites for a reason, after all. But the takeaway point is the clear visual proof that Phillips more than holds his own.

Impossible Owls shows what an artful writer Phillips is, with lush sentences and word-perfect phrasing. He draws analogies well, describes people memorably, and offers slightly off-kilter points of view that, after a moment’s consideration, you recognize as so right. Here are a few examples of his style that I hope illustrate.

Describing a bush pilot in Alaska that helped him follow the Iditarod:

Jay was a Vermont kid, raised in a small town, and there was a mordant New England pluck in the way he gazed into the abyss and said, "I see what you're trying to do there, abyss."

Two examples describing others he met in Alaska:

Colin had a fascinatingly odd way of maintaining intense eye contact while simultaneously all but squirming with agony over the fact that he was being noticed--the way, say, your fifteen-year-old goth cousin might do. This was something I noticed time and again in the inhabitants of remote Alaska, this total, helpless acuteness in the presence of a stranger. It was as if isolation had kept them from numbing themselves to the fact of other people.

I met Dick Newton [...]. He introduced himself to me in the dining hall. "Introduced" is a strong word. He walked up to me and said, "Well, who are you?" Not in an unfriendly way. Just in a way that said he was eighty-two and still handled deep Alaska wilderness on a daily basis and maybe shouldn't have to smile extra just because he met some kid who knew how to order pizza with an app.

At the UFO Museum in Roswell:

[...] the aliens start talking to the crowd. What they say is--I'm paraphrasing--"bzzzzrrg bzzzzoom ppozz bzrg pzow." Imagine Donald Duck trying to mimic a dial-up modem; it's like that.

And finally, from a piece covering the social impacts of certain fiction:

One of the reasons J. K. Rowling's books exerted magnetic power over every sentient creature on earth is that they resolved, indeed fused, a cultural contradiction. She took the aesthetic of old-fashioned English boarding-school life and placed it at the center of a narrative about political inclusiveness. You get to keep the scarves, the medieval dining hall, the verdant lawns, the sense of privilege (you're a wizard, Harry), while not only losing the snobbery and racism but actually casting them as the villains of the series.

As for topics, Phillips gave us an appetizing variety. They include the sustained madness of the Iditarod, the inside world of sumo wrestling, tiger-sighting in India, the other-worldliness of Roswell, a renowned Russian animator who has been working for decades on a masterpiece, the personal lives of British royals, and a story set in the Oklahoma town where Phillips grew up of an oil tycoon and his niece turned adopted daughter turned wife turned kind of crazy woman.

In the second set of triangles (necessitated by my lack of an all-inclusive hexagon), I list a few more dimensions I appreciate in essays. The bottom left trait is Empathy—how much humanity and understanding the writer exhibits. On the bottom right I put Education, which might include fun facts from history, how things work, or descriptions of the sort found in great travelogues. The top is labeled Personalization. By that I mean how much first person narration is involved, which when done well, puts an added element of emotion into the piece. There are no “right” answers to any of these new dimensions. Plenty of great essays exclude these elements entirely. I’m just awarding bonus points when an author does especially well pushing any of those boundaries.

Phillips showed a heightened sense of people awareness on quite few occasions. One example was a bit about Kate Middleton which probably shouldn’t be viewed as out-and-out support for a monarchy, but is sensitive to the unreal and dutiful life. I felt like Phillips included quite a few interesting facts as well, so his Education marks are also sky-high. Plaudits, too, for the entertaining way he draws you into these different worlds and makes you want to learn more.

Phillips didn’t always insert himself into these essays, but when he did it was very effective. His personal experiences in Alaska made me shiver. And the last piece about the oil tycoon and his wife included a segment about Phillips’ own boyhood as well as a poignant side story about his grandparents. He said that he likes his hometown and many of its people, but knew early on that it wasn’t where he belonged. I think that may be code that Harvard grads use euphemistically when they talk about anywhere but Cambridge.

Every page had some reminder that Phillips himself is a very smart guy. He writes beautifully and observes keenly, but never comes across as someone as arrogant as he has a right to be. My only complaint is likely my own deficiency. When I’m reading along and see ABC FGH KLM and think I’m following the pattern, he might throw in something like φ§θ to put me in my place. Even so, I was consistently delighted with everything that I did pick up from this superb collection.

[Peter Boyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to my pal Steve for putting this book on my radar with his superb review. Impossible Owls is the debut essay collection from Brian Phillips, a New Yorker and Slate contributor, among many other significant publications.

This is an eclectic body of work to say the least. Topics include sumo wrestling, tiger tourism, 90s sci-fi television and Russian animation. Phillips is continually attracted to the unusual - he deliberately forces himself out of his comfort zone to experience unfamiliar subcultures. His curiosity is intoxicating - I get the feeling he could make even the most mundane subject seem fascinating. He's also a very witty and likeable narrator.

There are eight essays in total, and three of them stood out in my mind. Once and Future Queen is a very entertaining examination of the British royal family, explaining the strange rituals they adhere to and describing the regimented life they are expected to lead. But Not Like Your Typical Love Story starts out as an intriguing account of a disappearing oil heiress from the author's hometown, but turns into something deeply personal and heartbreaking.

My favourite piece of all was Out in the Great Alone. Its covers a time Phillips spent in Alaska, reporting on the famous Iditarod sled race. The remoteness of this place staggers him, and he wonders what drives people to move to such an isolated and inhospitable location. One hard-nosed former detective tells him how he had tired of his hectic life in San Franscisco and that "Alaska had loomed for him as a possibility of freedom, a life of not being interfered with." He's a grizzled, unsentimental kind of guy but Phillips is touched by a rare hint of emotion he shows: "He’d come to Alaska forty-plus years ago to work oil but gave it up because it meant spending months away from “her,” not specifying who that was. My heart felt like a helium balloon when he said that." Phillips meets so many kind and welcoming folk in this freezing corner of the world, yet he can't shake a feeling of melancholy from his visit: "But it was such a warm place. I mean, fine, we’re all jaded here, but you could feel it: this fragile human warmth surrounded by almost unmanageable sadness."

If I have one small criticism it's that the endings of some of the essays didn't work for me - it's like they were left hanging in mid-air. But I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed this collection - the passion and enthusiasm of Brian Phillips shines through in every piece. Impossible Owls took me down some unexpected routes and it was a most illuminating journey.

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Have you ever wondered about the Alaskan Iditarod dogsledding race that begins in Anchorage and ends in Nome? How about learning about Hakuho, the greatest sumotori in the world, or suomo wrestling in general? No? How about Route 66 and its closeness to the Trinity site where the first atomic bomb detonated? Ever hear about the hunter, turned conservationist Jim Corbett that killed maneater tigers in India? No? Are you nostalgic about the television series Star Trek or X-files? Or have you ever wondered how Queen Elizabeth communicates with her staff by placing her handbag in a particular way? No? Me either!

So, it is with surprise how much I enjoyed these essays. Phillips’ luminescent writing certainly helps. And now my brain is filled with nuggets of trivia that I will surely never use. How fun!

[Oriana · Rating 5 out of 5]

I spent this entire fall rereading Infinite Jest, and when I surfaced, I felt unsure how to read anything else or what reading even is when it's not DFW. But I've been desperate to read Impossible Owls since I first had the shivery luck to copyedit Brian's back when I worked at MTV News, and I hoped it would be a good palate-cleanser, providing me a smooth path back to the rest of the reading world.

And it was. And it did. It was the perfect choice. These essays are sublime—the kind of writing that must be read breathlessly, awed. They're essays that read like excerpts from novels, robust investigations down strange corridors of the world, luxuriant rambles into lost territories of the mind. I don't know, writing is hard and I am not Brian Phillips to do it better.

In the opening essay, Brian decides to follow the Iditarod ("the sporting event that most closely mimics the experience of sustained brutal catastrophe") while it is being run, in a tiny overhead helicopter that he will first need to learn how to fly. It is so good I underlined half the essay, easily, between sobs and guffaws. In the closing essay, he intertwines memories of his grandparents with a ramble through his childhood in a small Oklahoma town, interspersing this with a deep dive into life and times of the man who made the town, a larger-than-life turn-of-the-century oil baron, not to mention that man's wife, who happened also to have been his own niece, and who, decades later, a shriveled eccentric old woman, was still traipsing erratically through town during Brian's childhood.

In between is a trip to the jungles of India ("In the presence of a tiger what most astonishes is not its size or its power or even its beauty but its capacity to disappear. The way a tiger arrives is, there is nothing there. Then a tiger is there."), a low earnest meditation on consuming pop-culture science-fiction while living in small towns ("When there was a lightning storm on the plains we'd drive toward it, watching slashing omens craze across the sky"), and a poetic dispatch from the life and times of various members of England's royal family, in which I learned that whatever castle the Queen is in must raise a flag to indicate her presence, which seems like a very strange bit of national security. There's a biographical essay about a sumo wrestler ("What the others are doing in the ring is fighting. Hakuho is composing little poems of battle.") and another, gorgeously soft and riveting, about a Russian animator. And there's a visit to Area 51 and Trinity against a backdrop of oldies songs, filled with tidbits about American roadside cultural history, 16th-century poetry, and obscure fauna—all of which Brian manages, insanely, to fit together perfectly.

The thing is, why are essays like this so rare? I told a friend that there's an old-fashioned feel to this kind of writing—not that the writing itself is old-fashioned, but that this feels like writing we no longer allow writers to do. They're not, but they feel like they're from a time before Twitter existed, before the whole stupid world pivoted to video, before click-rates and algorithms ruled everything around us. The only comparison I can think of is John Jeremiah Sullivan, whom I also recently discovered and was also awed speechless by. There's the same feeling in Sullivan's pieces as in these: that someone recognized these people as Writers and said: here, have some money, have some time and space, go somewhere and do something and just write about it.

The fact that that seems like such a ludicrously antiquated idea anymore is fucking tragic. But the fact that this book exists nonetheless is magical.

[Domenico Fina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Benché le storie siano ambientate in Alaska, Giappone, India, Russia, Ponca City Oklahoma (la cittadina in cui è Brian Phillips è nato nel 1976) egli non è propriamente uno scrittore di viaggi. Se ne starebbe benissimo a casa. Dice che da ragazzo aveva sviluppato uno sguardo obliquo e ironico sulle cose, essendo vissuto in una cittadina piccola in cui non c’era molto da fare; era il suo modo di alimentare le giornate, di non farsi soffocare dall’inedia dei piccoli posti. Eppure in quel posto Phillips era contento. Da adulto ha viaggiato nelle metropoli del mondo ma ha capito che lo sguardo obliquo non era dovuto a Ponca City, lo sguardo obliquo era lui.
Phillips è uno scrittore brillante, smart come si deve, divaga tra storie eterogenee come sono in grado di fare ottimamente i migliori scrittori negli States, ma di particolare ha una grazia ritrosa... cechoviana?
Questi otto “saggi/prose/storie/reportage” li ho letti con un interesse vorace sebbene dei temi trattati sapessi ben poco e mi interessasse ancora meno, penso al Sumo, all’Area 51, all’Alaska. Ciò che mi ha impressionato è la capacità narrativa di Phillips di scartare di lato, nella storia, alla maniera quasi di Alice Munro. Leggere l’ultimo capitolo meraviglioso che chiude il libro. Si intitola: “Ma non la solita storia d’amore”.

Qui tre brani che ho annotato. Ciao.

Per tutta la vita mia nonna conservò una delicatezza che non ebbe mai del tutto senso nel posto in cui viveva. Era paziente. Si avvicinava al mondo con simpatia e una specie di nervosa gentilezza, due qualità la cui frequenza di solito nemmeno lambiva lo spettro percettivo di mio nonno, ma in lei le amava. (“Ma non la solita storia d’amore”)

Non era difficile immaginare una tigre avvicinarsi silenziosa alla bancarella delle magliette, perché in presenza di una tigre ciò che colpisce più di tutto non è la stazza, o la forza, e nemmeno la bellezza, ma è la sua capacità di scomparire.
Nei programmi sulla natura avrete sentito dire che le tigri sono furtive. Non è un’informazione che può prepararti a come sono davvero. Non vedrete mai una tigre che non abbia deciso di farsi vedere. […]
Ecco come arriva una tigre: prima non c’è niente; poi c’è una tigre. (“Mangiatrici di uomini”)

Ho conosciuto un uomo che ha detto che una volta le civette gli hanno predetto la sorte. Non di persona - abbiamo parlato al telefono. Le persone che sperimentano eventi paranormali, fra cui il rapimento da parte degli alieni, sono spesso poco inclini a lasciarsi avvicinare da scrittori e giornalisti. […]
Le sue storie però hanno una loro bellezza, e questa bellezza sta soprattutto nel fatto che, quando gli succede qualcosa di veramente inspiegabile, ai margini dell’evento tendono a spuntare delle civette. Ne vedi una dozzina su un cavo del telefono, poi, dietro l’angolo, l’astronave. (“Autostrada perduta”)

[Trudie · Rating 4 out of 5]

* 4.5 *

This is such an interesting collection of essays but it is fiendishly difficult to categorise.

The opening story about the Iditarod Sled Dog race set in Alaska ( Out in the Great Alone ) is followed by a story about Japanese sumo ( Sea of Crises ). So it's understandable that you might feel you are in for a book of quirky travel narratives. But much like in Rachel Kushners The Hard Crowd this collection seems like the author, Brian Phillips, working through some things ( what was going on in Japan? ) while in the pursuit of some wild enthusiasms. Don't get me wrong, this is all fascinating stuff but you don't always end up where you expected to. There is something elusive, something, "I wonder what I am meant to take from that" about these essays. It is kind of thrilling.

Worth mentioning, I was left utterly haunted by the story of Lydie Marland ( But not like your Typical Love Story ). - that sculpture! "Smash the face first" - there is an entire universe contained in this story. It would make a superb Edith Wharton novel. A masterstroke to leave this one until last since it is the most personal of the stories. A perfect encapsulation of Phillips style and fascinations.

I really hope there are more essay collections to come from this guy.

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brian Phillips has an unquenchable thirst for experiences and the ability to share them with clear prose and wit. Here we go along with him in a Super Cub as he follows the trail of the Iditarod, and in the process we learn not just about Alaska, dogs, and the thrill of flying with visual flight rules with a limited window, but also of the character of the mushers and the history of the race itself. We learn about the intricacies of the handling of the Queen's standard, as well as that of her grandson, and we learn much more about the personality and background of William and Kate beyond their photogenic smiles and immaculate grooming. He has hunted tigers on an eco tour and goes behind the India of the raj, and the importance of the tiger to the black market, and experience an encounter with a protective mother elephant. We learn much more about the oil history of Northern Oklahoma, where he was reared, essays which read like novellas. I haven't read his work before, this being his first compilation, but I plan on tracking it down.


Each of these essays takes the reader deeper into its subject in a

[pierlapo quimby · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quando uscì il lupetto grigio nei Microgrammi Adelphi lo divorai (povero lupetto, voleva rapirmi e nascondermi nel bosco sotto il salice e invece sgniack!) e la lettura mi mise una enorme curiosità sugli altri titoli che sarebbero stati pubblicati nella raccolta, e dire che l'autore non l'avevo mai sentito prima.
Be', non c'è solo il lupetto (sgniak!), anche gli altri pezzi sono interessanti, alcuni dei gioiellini.

Nella grande solitudine ****
Molto godibile, ma un po' al di fuori dello spirito che ormai riconosco essere la cifra dell'autore; è divertente, se volete pure un po' gigione, sembra un pezzo scritto per lettori di magazine come Rolling Stone o Wired, quel tipo di reportage lì, che ammicca e fa battute (con un eccessivo uso dell'aggettivo 'assurdo' ad intendere strano-ma-figo); il tema è la Iditarod d'Alaska, la mitica corsa con le slitte: immaginatevi questo tizio dell'Oklahoma che arriva nel freddo estremo del nordovest d'America, più vicino alla Russia che al resto degli USA e comincia a guardarsi intorno incontrando concorrenti (tipi stranetti), aviatori (sì, per spostarsi da quelle parti fai prima con i trabiccoli volanti che via terra) e gente del posto.

Mare delle crisi ****½
Il Sumo! ecco, qui c'è il Phillips che dai lottatori di sumo scantona, parte per la tangente, sino a parlarci di Yukio Mishima, dell'esercito privato che fondò e della sua azione dimostrativa del '70, quando irruppe in una caserma, sequestrò un generale, tentò di arringare le truppe e poi fece seppuku; Phillips, mentre è in Giappone a seguire gli incontri di Sumo, scopre che uno dei partecipanti a quel raid, proprio quello che con la katana mise fine alle sofferenze di Mishima mentre i visceri gli fuoriscivano dall'intestino è ancora vivo e così prende un treno perché vorrebbe incontrarlo.

Autostrada perduta *****
Roswell e l'Area 51, la Route 66, America oscura e America sotto traccia, colonna sonora: una playlist di hit anni '50. Strepitoso.

Verrà il lupetto grigio *****
Non l’ho riletto ma bellissimo era e bellissimo è senz’altro rimasto: ritratto di Jurij Norštejn, l’animatore artigiano che da anni sta realizzando la sua versione animata del cappotto di Gogol. Ma non solo.

Mangiatrici di uomini ****
Safari in India a caccia della tigre; anche qui il meglio lo dà quando svicola e parla d’altro o estende il raggio, come le riflessioni sul ‘colonialismo ambientalista’; però pure la tigre che quando d’un tratto spunta silenziosa dal fogliame e piega il tessuto spazio-temporale attorno a sé mentre la giungla, con i suoi suoni, muta è farina della sua classe.

Al buio: la fantascienza nella città di provincia *** ½
Etero-recensione del film blockbuster La furia dei Titani + etero-pseudo-recensioni dell’intera serie di Star Trek: The Next Generation e di X-Files: per me meno succose anche perché conosco film e telefilm solo di fama.

Regina e futura regina ***
Elisabetta e Kate; mi ha colpito meno, ma il ritratto di Carlo per absentia è notevole, anzi, ne copio la prima parte: Il principe Carlo ha sessantasette anni. Ha il portamento di un uomo che ha combattuto aspramente, fra i denti il coltello del distacco e del protocollo, per sopravvivere all’immensa fortuna in cui è nato. Uno studioso mancato: ponderoso e insieme astratto. Procede lungo il marciapiede con le punte delle dita di una mano infilate nella tasca del doppiopetto, un ombrello appeso all’avambraccio opposto. Un uomo dai cappotti di cammello, le bombette, il viso come una volpe tosata: appuntito, sconfitto, divertito. Guance color malva per l’età, ma senza sole, come se, per lo stesso principio per cui il ghiaccio può ustionare, si fosse scottato passando troppo tempo sotto la pioggia. Ci sono uomini che catturano una sala con la mera presenza, uomini la cui vitalità prevarica l’aria. Carlo attira l’attenzione per un meccanismo inverso, una specie di assenza carismatica: la realtà si deforma intorno ai suoi titoli come intorno a un riluttante buco nero. Poi guarda la realtà, con i suoi occhi tristi e laschi, come sperasse di vederla scomparire. Sicuramente, sembra dire, ci deluderemo a vicenda. È un peccato: ma tant’è. Inutile fingere. be', è bravo o no Phillips?

Ma non la solita storia d'amore ****
Il pezzo più lungo, quasi un memoir familiare, partendo, come sempre, da altro: Lydie Marland, la sua singolare vita a Ponca City, Oklahoma, città d'origine di Phillips.

[Dane Bernardo · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is my first online review of anything, ever, so hopefully that says something about Brian’s writing. I don’t enjoy much nonfiction but have compulsively followed Brian’s work since the Grantland days. I pre-ordered four copies of this book and am literally handing them out to friends because I love his essays that much. I’ve read about half of this collection previously and not only do I vividly remember them, but will be happily rereading each piece. I called a friend last night and while raving about a particular paragraph structure from his piece on the Iditarod, she made me read it aloud, and I did, and she promptly bought the book. I would buy thirty more copies if it meant he got to write another one. I cannot articulate sufficient praise on his stories. Buy and/or read this. It’s the best stuff.

[M. Sarki · Rating 3 out of 5]

https://msarki.tumblr.com/post/174658...

The two bookends of this collection of eight essays begins with Out in the Great Alone and finishes with But Not Like Your Typical Love Story. Both very good essays and most likely will prove in the long run to be quite memorable. Adding another six more essays with the degree of such personal bent would have been welcomed wholeheartedly.

Though sufficiently adept at capturing the essence of his middle subjects, Brian Phillips fails to hold the interest for me that John Jeremiah Sullivan routinely achieves. It is unfortunate the publisher dared compare these two essayists. Granted, both men do choose subjects a bit off the mainstream, but Sullivan ventures closer to my own proclivities. Even after completing this book-length collection I still feel removed with only a distant feeling of intimacy with the writer Phillips. Not so with Sullivan. For me, a writer’s personality must come through on every page. And it helps if that personality is attractive enough to be at least liked, if not loved. Brian Philips has the skill to eventually achieve this, and perhaps he will one day. However, a mere twenty-five percent success rate will meet failure in reaching that goal.

[Marcello S · Rating 4 out of 5]

Raccolta di saggi narrativi catalogata con CDD 910.4 [narrazioni di viaggi intorno al mondo].
Brian Phillips ha una scrittura brillante e stratificata e sa rendere interessanti argomenti di cui mi interessa poco o nulla, tipo il sumo.
Ci sono momenti eccezionali: la camminata sul mare ghiacciato alle isole Diomede, il suicidio di Yukio Mishima o le facce ombrose di Mulder e Scully.
Parentesi in autofiction.
Entusiasmante.

[78/100]


Centinaia e centinaia di chilometri per giungere qui. Non potete capire quanto sia grande l’Alaska fino a che non l’avete vista da un Super Cub: un orizzonte che si perde in quello successivo, un giorno dopo l’altro. Ma la roccia bianca davanti a me era la fine. Da qualche parte, alle sue spalle, iniziava la Siberia.
Quando mi è sembrato di aver camminato per cinque o seicento metri, mi sono alzato sulle punte dei piedi e ho cominciato a gesticolare come un matto verso il lato russo. Mi è sembrato di vedere un lampo, come una luce riflessa da uno specchio, provenire da una torre la cui cima si intravedeva appena sopra la roccia. Ma non è successo nient’altro.

Se tutto può scomparire, allora cercare di non scomparire può diventare uno sport. Esporsi a forze che potrebbero cancellarti dalla faccia della terra per poi giungere al traguardo intatto, non cancellato. Mi ero sbagliato, in precedenza, quando avevo visto le mute di cani come santi sul punto di una visione mistica. Era il contrario. I visionari cercano di evadere verso qualcosa di più grande. I musher si addentrano in qualcosa di più grande da cui devono fuggire. Entrano nella visione per dimostrare che possono uscirne. La visione sarà meravigliosa, e proverà a ucciderti.

Asashōryū faceva sembrare il sumo una cosa selvaggia, furiosa; Hakuhō era di una calma insondabile. Aveva un istinto per contrappesi e angoli. Come scivolare lateralmente di pochi centimetri nel momento più inatteso. Come un movimento infinitesimale dei fianchi potesse annichilire l’equilibrio dell’avversario. In teoria, vincere un incontro di sumo è semplice: o fai uscire l’avversario dal ring o gli fai toccare terra con una parte qualunque del corpo che non siano le suole dei piedi. Certe vittorie di Hakuhō erano un mistero. L’altro lottatore usciva barcollando da un corpo a corpo che sulle prime era sembrato alla pari. Quando gli serviva, Hakuhō sapeva essere soverchiante. Non gli serviva tanto spesso.

Nei miei ricordi dell’epoca sembra andare in onda, silenziato, su ogni televisore di ogni stanza in cui entravo dopo il tramonto. Siamo accalcati intorno a un telefono e cerchiamo di capire se esistano davvero ragazze da chiamare, e nell’altra stanza vedo la nuca della madre del mio amico e le facce di Mulder e Scully che ci fissano. Anni dopo, quando ho guardato la serie dall’inizio alla fine, non mi ha mai disturbato l’incoerenza della trama principale, che aveva fatto infuriare i fan della prima ora, perché ero già abituato a immaginarmi la serie come una successione di scene in un’atmosfera vuota, e anzi mi ero innamorato proprio di quello. La fotografia della serie, molto ricca anche per gli standard di oggi e stupefacente nel 1993, era malinconica e ombrosa, e siccome l’espressione di Scully era una straordinaria combinazione di orrore e torpore e coraggio e trauma, e noi non avevamo provato nessuna di quelle quattro cose pur volendo fingere di averle provate tutte, sembrava naturale che la serie lambisse i margini del nostro mondo segreto.

[Joachim Stoop · Rating 4 out of 5]

If every essay blew me away as the first one about the Alaskan sled-dog races, this would 've been my book of the year. The writing in each of these unique essays is overall sublime, but there were three that didn't interest me enough to thoroughly enjoy. Still highly recommended!

[Mita · Rating 4 out of 5]

e così, d'acchito, sono quattro stelle abbondanti!

[Read By RodKelly · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5
Review soon

[Freesiab BookishReview · Rating 5 out of 5]

Phenomenal book of essays! I’m happy I found it again after moving. Very well thought out, well written and interesting topics from sumo, to The Queen, to science fiction. It’s was somewhat dense in terms of thinking. I’ll definitely need another go at it sometime.

[L.A. Starks · Rating 5 out of 5]

My only very slight criticism of this book is that its cover does not do justice to the luminescent essays within. Phillips is a brilliant, insightful author, unafraid to walk the narrative tightrope without a net below.
The opening essay on the Iditarod in Alaska, "Out in the Great Alone," captures the state's size and emptiness in a way I haven't seen before. The essay on Japanese sumitori explains the sport and its traditions at an interesting and well-researched level. And on, to New Mexico sci fi, the Queen of England, and an especially moving essay about Phillips' grandparents that ties into the peculiar history of Lydie Marland in the town in which (spoiler alert) both Phillips and I grew up. With Ree Drummond's cookbooks, David Grann's Killers of the Flower Moon, and Boomtown (about OKC), north central Oklahoma is getting its 15 minutes of fame. Phillips has done much more than convey his impressions--he's scouted the little available research to give readers a better, nuanced picture of a woman and history of a place I consider a technical suburb without an "urb"--scientists and engineers working away in what had been the middle of nowhere, until oil was discovered.
For those who intrigued by Oklahoma, and First Nations history--brief shout-out for my own STRIKE PRICE, second in the Lynn Dayton thriller series, set in the same area. https://www.amazon.com/dp/0991110706

[Lou · Rating 5 out of 5]

Steinbeck did it, Orwell did it, Hemingway and Mark Twain, and so has this author, Brian Phillips, that is reportage, truth work from the world, layered out in great prose lucid and rhythmic, insightful and evocative, myriad of lives, nature, and peoples all vividly brought to life and memorably left to ruminate.

Interesting first essay amongst denizens of Alaska, a bear, sled-dog racing and the mysterious connection of disappearances and an underground pyramid.

Illuminating essay, Sea of Crises, where he mentions on a sumo wrestler, Hakuho, the greatest sumotori in the world, “It is time for Hakuho’s first match of the hatsu basho, the first grand tournament of the year.” Then goes to explain Tokyo with some great sentences, and his odd search for the novelist Yukio Mishima’s kaishakunin.

There is the haunting search and travel through New Mexico in Lost Highway essay, visiting the Trinity site where first atom bomb detonated, on UFO things and Area 51. Then stark informative and terrible stain of man’s wrongs, he mentions of things partaken around American histories of Route 66.

The Man-Eaters essay is walking with tigers, and in its path, through India he writes, “Of the twelve tigers I saw in India, one might have been a ghost; two were in water, eight were on land, and one was sleeping in a tree.”
The terrible fate of killed Tigers and the $10,000 price of the skin sold in Tibet, and the rest of the Tiger in Beijing for $100,000. The man-eating Bengal tigers, and the death toll in a village, and one Jim Corbett, a past author and hunter turned conservationist and the national park named after him.

There is a memoirist piece, In the Dark: Science Fiction in Small Town, he reflects on his Wrath of the Titans, Star Trek: The Next Generation, and X-Files viewing enjoyment, and days of youth that revolve around them.

Once and Future Queen, he opens with the weather and describing London with great craft with prose then goes on to lay out an originally done brief sketch and portrait of queen and family.

Revitalized essay writing of world histories that are revealing, stark, nostalgic, deep and informative.


Excerpts and interesting videos of characters from here @ https://more2read.com/review/impossible-owls-by-brian-phillips/

[Jess · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brian Phillips is my favorite non-fiction prose stylist. Yeah, I said it.

[Leah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I like Brian Phillips and appreciate his perspective. Some of the stories dragged on a little and he would drop hints about personal drama but never dive into it and that killed me. I don’t think it’s a collection meant to be read back to back in a short sitting

[LindaJ^ · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 rounded up to 5 stars

I bought this book on Christmas Day when the talk at the table turned to books and one of my younger friends (mid-30's) recommended it. He described the book and commented that the writer lived in the town in Central PA where we were eating. Since recommended by a friend, I did not let it linger on the shelf and began reading shortly after receiving it. I enjoyed the essays and the topics they addressed. The author put a lot of himself into the essays, some more extensively that others. For an interesting take on the type of essays and comparisons to other essayists, see Steven's review -- https://www.goodreads.com/review/show.... What kept it from a pure 5 star read for me was the grammar usage. He uses semicolons and colons in a fashion that initially threw me out of the stream of the essay, as I went back to reread and discern, if I could, why.

The book contains eight very different essays.

The first - Out in the Great Alone - concerns the Iditarod. Phillips covered the race one year, flying in a 2-person Cessna over the vast wilderness the race covers. While he talks about the race and some of the drivers, he also tells about his own experiences and some of the very unique individuals he encountered. You'll be reaching for your sweater and a hat.

The second - Sea of Crises - concerns Sumo wrestling in Japan and the Phillip's fixation with finding out what became of a man who beheaded (after another person failed) the author of a book Phillips had read. The dead author and a group of friends (maybe followers) had attempted to take over the government and agreed to kill themselves and behead each other when if failed.

The third - The Little Gray Wolf Will Come - concerns a Russian film animator who has done some amazing work but who has been working for 20 years of so on one that the animator believes will be his masterpiece.

The fourth - Lost Highway - concerns UFO's. Phillips tells about his investigation into the topic, including driving the remaining parts of Route 66 and visiting Area 51.

The fifth - Man Eaters - concerns Indian Tigers and Phillips trip to India to observe them.

The sixth - In the Dark: Science Fiction in Small Towns - uses the 90's TV show The X-Files to ponder on life in small towns (actually the small town where he grew up).

The seventh - Once & Future Queen - looks at Kate Middleton and how she manages the role of a senior royal in a manner that Phillips seems to consider to better fit what the people are looking for in a royal than did her husband's mother (Princess Diana), who was too open, and his grandmother (Queen Elizabeth II), who, while better at it than Diana, is somewhat too standoffish.

The last essay - But Not Like Your Typical Love Story - concerns a figure of some repute - Lydie Roberts - in his home town in Oklahoma. It also includes much about Phillips' grandparents.

[Patrick · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars. I love the way he writes so much -- both in prose style, which is captivating, and the topics he chooses for his essays. He's so good at capturing and describing people and their quirks that it honestly makes me jealous. Out in the Great Alone and But Not Like Your Typical Love Story are really fantastic.

Favorites
1. Out in the Great Alone
2. But Not Like Your Typical Love Story
3. Sea of Crises
~~~~~~~~~~~
Very Good to Good
4. Lost Highway
5. Man-Eaters
6. The Little Gray Wolf Will Come
7. Once and Future Queen
~~~~~~~~~~~
Interesting, but maybe a little far from what interests me
8. In the Dark: Science Fiction in Small Towns

Anyway, some day I will write a review for a book that doesn't come across as forced and try-hardy, but today is not that day.

[Tamara Agha-Jaffar · Rating 4 out of 5]

Impossible Owls: Essays by Brian Phillips is a collection of eight essays in topics ranging from the Iditarod sled race, to sumo wrestling, to tiger-spotting in India, to the work of an accomplished Russian animator, to tidbits about the British royal family. It is an eclectic mix, but Phillips manages to hold it together with a very readable, accessible, and entertaining style.

Phillips follows the untrodden path in his approach toward subject matter. His research on the topic is impressive. He focuses on minute details. For example, in his essay on the Iditarod, in addition to describe the breathtakingly beautiful panorama, he describes some of the eccentric characters involved in the race, focusing on their quirks and mannerisms. He concludes with a thought-provoking theory on the significance of the race and what it represents to those involved. In his essay on the British royal family, he discusses how Queen Elizabeth signals her security guards of her intentions by where she positions her handbag.

Some essays are stronger than others, but all include interesting facts about the topic. Phillips exhibits a refreshing curiosity to ferret out nuggets of trivia and a willingness to plunge into new experiences. His eye is discerning; his pronouncements about people and their behavior astute. He punctuates his writing with personal anecdotes, impressions, and a delightful sense of humor. In a voice that is authentic and likable, he projects an infectious enthusiasm to seek the seemingly trivial as he looks at the world through a quirky set of lenses.

Highly recommended.

[Mosco · Rating 3 out of 5]

iniziato piena di speranze, sono invece rimasta un po' delusa. L'ho trovato molto discontinuo: qualche storia interessante e appassionante, qualcuna noiosa da morire.
Incredibilmente mi è piaciuta molto la storia dedicata al sumo, meno incredibilmente quella ambientata in Alaska e quella sulle tigri.
Quella dedicata a Jurij Norštejn e al suo Cappotto invece, l'ho trovata veramente tediosa e pure le avventure di lydie marland non mi hanno fatto tremare le vene dei polsi.

Insomma, un libro ni

[Melba · Rating 4 out of 5]

The challenge with rating a book of essays is having to reach an overall conclusion, when in fact you would have given a 5 to several while a lesser rating to others. I was fascinated by the chapters about the Iditarod, Sumo wrestlers, a Russian animator, man eating tigers, and English royalty. I found myself less invested if not a little confused while reading the chapters about Area 51, science fiction t.v. series, and its final chapter about an unlikely but true love story.....which ends up being very close to the author's heart.

Without a doubt, Brian Phillips is a writer extraordinaire who explores topics in such depth and with such detail that the reader becomes intrigued where they might not have been before. I found myself needing to look up the meaning of several words in each chapter.....so the book offers an opportunity to grow your vocabulary as well. There are good stories, there are insights into human nature, there is humor, and there are questions regarding the meaning of life that, of course, must remain unanswered.

Throughout the book I could not help but keep asking myself, "Why was this book titled, Impossible Owls?" The reader will soon recognize that there is a reference to owls in each essay. The references play a minor part but are always there. Most often owls are presented as playing a mystical role, and most often with a sense of unease or even in a frightening way as harbingers of ill fortune or alien abduction. This differs from other references in which the owl is mentioned in favorable terms as gentle and thoughtful. In a another instance the body shape of a revered Sumo wrestler is described as "owl like". I found myself wondering if the role of the owl in each essay was also the key to understanding the connection between each of the stories, and then also, "Why are they impossible owls?" At one point in the book, Phillips writes, "What overwhelms us is not the meaninglessness of the universe but the coexistence of an apparent meaninglessness with the astonishing interconnectedness of everything"......so surely he meant for there to be a connection! Or maybe it is impossible to find that connection and thus the title. Sorry, but I can not seem to find the answers to my own questions......maybe someone else can help?

[Dax · Rating 4 out of 5]

Phillips toes the line of Gonzo Journalism with this collection of essays, but he (mostly) keeps the focus off of himself and more to the topic at hand. He tends to reach for humor too often, but it does not distract from the quality of the writing. Overall, excellent stuff.

Owls (both real and imaginary) appear in every essay but one, but I am unsure of their significance. Given the title of the book, my inability to figure this out is driving me a little crazy, so if any other readers out there figured it out, let me know!

Highlights include "Sea of Crises", "The Little Gray Wolf Will Come" (who would've thought that Russian animation would be interesting), "Man-Eaters" and "Once and Future Queen".

"Out in the Great Unknown" has its moments and should have been better than it is, but Phillips gets too cutesy with it and, again, tries too hard to be funny. Great scene when he flies to the Russian border, however.

Only clunker is "In the Dark". I don't care about Star Trek. Or Wrath of the Titans.

[Claire · Rating 5 out of 5]

November 2018: The one drawback to this book is that the opening essay and its discussions of plane crashes make for a tough read while on a bumpy plane ride. Everything else is lovely.

August 2020: I started rereading this thinking I would slowly read an essay at a time while not in the mood to read a book, but I tore through it.

[Geoff · Rating 5 out of 5]

Astounding. Somehow manages to be both deeply personal and subjective, but also provide seemingly deep insight into tigers or dog racing or the British royals or 1920s Oklahoma oil tycoons.

"But Not Your Typical Love Story" is one of the best essays I've ever read.

[Grayson Layshock · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's hard to judge this as a collection; there are stories I absolutely adored and others I could have done without. Some of the best short stories - non-fiction or otherwise - are good because they leave things out. These often packed too much in, and good concepts got overwhelmed by a hoard of research.

[Cade · Rating 5 out of 5]

An odd but really interesting book of essays...Phillips covers the Iditarod, sumo wrestling, UFOs, a hometown mystery, the royal family, tigers, and Russian animator Yuri Norstein. It was a strange collection, but I absolutely loved it. I really hope he publishes another collection.

[Jon Barr · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very enjoyable, especially the first essay on the Iditarod.