“I write because there are things I can’t sing. There are ways of writing that can’t be sung. I write because I watch,” says Jeb Loy Nichols, an internationally acclaimed musician and artist, about his literary art. In this unforgettable novel, Suzanne has arranged her life to suit her solitariness, living quietly on her untended hill farm. Her days are a word-shy negotiation, caught between indifference and uncertainty. Into this world comes Gertrude, a wandering donkey. Together they form an unlikely alliance; each protecting the solitude of the other.
Suzanne and Gertrude is a tale of intermittent griefs and wonderments. How do we live, not just with each other, but with memories, with impermanence, with the inevitable melancholy of being?
Suzanne and Gertrude is a spare novel with a profound impact.
A lovely, arresting, quiet little book with a complex message. It packs a powerful punch in that it provokes a serious reflection on why we're here and shatters many of our 'standard' notions. Suzanne and her husband are opposites: he believes he must do all that he can to make things better in this broken world, while Suzanne asks, "have we ever made anything better? ... where is there progress in the worldwide flood of refugees? In the mountains of discarded plastic? In the expanding number of animals and plants we daily make extinct? Where, in Syria, Yemen, in Washington, is there progress?"
She has a humbler, simpler way of being. She identifies with nature and its creatures over human beings, and she shares her solitude with a gentle donkey who's wandered into her life and who she's named Gertrude. "Donkeys are neither vain nor greedy nor petty nor mean ... they are lowly and decent."
In this social-driven, frenzied world, solitude is rarely the popular choice and can be difficult to understand. Jeb Loy Nichols asks us to look inside with this beautiful little book, decide for ourselves.
I vlog my experience of reading this great novella alongside Rumi and the Red Handbag by Shawna Lemay and by the end I hope I have convinced you to read them together too: https://youtu.be/HdLOl_6oOJU?si=PpiNM....
3.5 rounded down. Read on the recommendation of a relative.
This is a short and subdued little book; almost like reading a very long thought process as you gaze around at nature. There are some moments that cause you to stop and consider, to assess, to appreciate or question.
"And Suzanne had wondered, is death bad luck? Surely it's being born that's bad luck And aren't all of us, you and me both, perpetually in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
"In donkey communities the newly born are protected, food is shared, predators are dealt with collectively. The days are spent in search of food, water and companionship; an air of grace and tranquility prevails. This is not, let's be frank, what we find in most human communities. The young are not protected, food is not shared; individuals are left alone to defend themselves against intruders. Grace and tranquility do not rule. In this, in the simple act of being alive, donkeys are unquestionably our superiors."
A solitary woman, a solitary donkey who wanders into her midst, a nearby friend...conversations about what matters in life, what propels us to do what we do in the days we have; words that wrestle with our "meaning", how do we spend this life we are given.
It says right on the cover that it is a novel, but I don't think it really is; it is a fiction, it is a tale, and it only makes it to 133 pages by taking up less than half of those pages and using the rest for white space and some woodcuts. As a tale, it is very small, so little happens and the life of Suzanne is so small, with such big spaces around it. But it is a pulse, and sometimes a throb, that matches my own blood's motion. It is little and it is sad and it is mundane and it is spacious with sky, clouds, leaves, while little with blankets of certain weight and color, with a few apples, with a friend, with the smell of a donkey and the donkey's eyes and a walk with the donkey and one book and a few letters and a past. It works.
“My donkeys care for only that which is most simple. They are neither vein nor greedy nor petty nor mean. They are not highbred race horses or strutting show stallions; they are not preening prize winners. They are lowly and decent. They humble me.”
Good things come in small packages indeed. Here are few of the unique things that stood out to me in Suzanne and Gertrude:
🫏 The book is only 133 pages but boy does it pack a lot into that little bit of space. 🫏 The writing is beautiful and the story says so much more than the actual words. 🫏There are no quotation marks. 🫏 The book is split up into sections by months/season. 🫏 There are donkey illustrations. 🫏 It makes you think. Really, really think. 🫏 Animals just make everything better!
If you have ever wondered about our purpose here on earth, if you love nature and animals, and if you love powerful messages give this little gem a try.
No le pongo más porque el bloqueo lector probablemente me ha fastidiado un poco esta lectura… He leído en otra reseña, que es como leer un mismo pensamiento de forma continuada y no sé si eso tiene mucho sentido, pero es lo que mejor define este libro tan cortito. He sentido que echaba un ojo en la cabeza de Suzanne y simplemente me han encantado sus metáforas, sus símiles, su introspección, su vínculo con Hillman y las visiones tan antagónicas que tienen de la vida. Me ha hecho reflexionar y me he enamorado de sus diálogos tan caóticos.
¡¡Quién iba a pensar que los burros tenían tanta profundidad!!
It was the quiet, charming cover that sold me on Suzanne and Gertrude, a book I had never heard of by an author that was unknown to me. It was the perfect find.
It’s been exceptionally snowy in our corner of New England. The kind of weather that keeps you curled up close to the wood stove. Keeping company with Suzanne and Gertrude on a snowed in afternoon made for one of the finer days of the New Year.
Jeb Loy Nichols, an American expat living off the grid in Wales, is a singer songwriter, author, and artist - it’s his work on the cover.
3.5. A sad, gentle little book about melancholy and loss, studded with moments of intense multispecies camaraderie. Poetic, atmospheric, and at times difficult to follow.
“the crow is indifferent to the grass” “nothing happens again and again. it never stops” “the weightiness of living” “she worries that she’s turning into a different kind of person”
3.5 stars: I find it fitting that this story is inspired by the presence of a donkey, because I found myself falling into the voice of Eyore, the self-absorbed, melancholic and hopeless donkey from Winnie the Pooh. There were few moments that gave melody to my voice, yet I suppose that was the intent. The prose is beautiful, carefully entwining the images with the story, however the pace is sometimes agonizingly slow. An extra star is given for the author’s simple but brilliant illustrations. The book cover is wonderful.
Suzanne has chosen a life of solitude and states, “My desire is to exist in a manner that makes experience irrelevant. No stories, no past deeds, no intentions, no expectations, no history.” The very small and solitary world she has created seems, however, to offer her no true contentment. Rather than be inspired by the wonders of her chosen world, she obsessively judges humanity from her windowless existence, not wanting to see beyond her own, limited view. I, too, find solitude preferable in an often confusing and frenzied world, but I believe that humanity also offers beauty and creativity to appreciate and learn from. I found it a little irritating that the efforts Suzanne embraces in caring for animals are those she stubbornly undervalues in caring for humans. She criticizes her aid-worker husband’s effort to protect human beings, yet she shows great effort to shelter the homeless donkey and care for the suffering fox. She has closed the door on humankind and concluded that the world has been broken by humans who have no ability to make things better. Suzanne has no hope, but more distressing, she denies the value of hope. She is defeated. I can relate to Suzanne’s sensitivity and compassion for animals, and even, at times, her preference for animals over humans, but even in her relationship with animals and nature she seems to feel little, if any, real happiness. I was saddened by Suzanne’s inability to feel the abundance of natural beauty, wonder, and promise even in her solitary world. Without the presence of Gertrude, this book would have become unbearably dark … but instead it was an unusual and insightful look into grief and depression.
Wow! Delivers quite an emotional punch for a book in which not much happens (which is the point). This would be great for a group discussion (or not). Just makes you think, without hitting you over the head, and that’s a good thing. Well written, pleasant read. Oh, yes! I adored the artwork.
I did wish for more plot in this novel, maybe more information ... yet it's truly a study in character, mostly Suzanne. She finds a bond with Gertrude, the donkey who shows up as if a gift to her from the universe. I wanted to know more of her husband Hillman and their relationship, but that felt shallow to me. Of course, they were opposites, but such doesn't preclude a deep union. Clearly Suzanne found solace in stillness and in nature, and that did resonate with me. At places, there was some beautiful writing. "Do I like silence perhaps too much ... Do I do myself a disservice by watching the shadows become less?" I liked this introspection. And then, later: "Suzanne sits as a woman in a painting sits ... The dusk burrows into her; like a rabbit, like a mole, like a rat. She thinks maybe everything that's ever going to happen in my life has happened." The descriptions in this scene are beautifully deep, but I'll give no more away. And then, near the end, I so loved the scene with the fox. A tale of poignant images and subtle bonds.
He knew I had no place in the world, that I was at odds with it; that I was essentially alone. How this came to be, how it happened, concerned a time before his time and he didn't delve. His job, as he saw it, was damage limitation. He knew that I was temperamentally flawed, that I was without the necessary urges. I was an instinctual retreater. It all seems so long ago now. He once asked me what it was that I was running from; why did I choose to live amongst strangers, always on the outside of things? Why not live among your own kind? One could, he said, call it disloyal. I agreed. I was not as he was. I was separate.”
A poetic novella, really, or a "feature-length" short story. The enigmatic protagonist, Suzanne, and her donkey companion, Gertrude, lead a quiet, melancholic life in rural Wales as Suzanne awaits the return of her husband from far-off humanitarian work in the Middle East. The book really is a mediation on what it means to live a solitary life. Suzanne is somewhat off-putting and not entirely sympathetic a character, and the prose reads more like a screenplay, but this slim novel has lovely mystery at times. The cover art accurately telegraphs the tone of wintry solitude and meditation.
A very short story that took longer than I wanted to spend to read it. However, some reviewers found it very profound and meaningful. I felt that Suzanne rambled on about her solitary life with her newfound friend, Gertrude, a donkey. Suzanne and her absent husband are opposites. Suzanne leads a quiet life of simple pleasures, while her husband does everything he can to bring aide and relief to others in war-torn areas of the world. I'm glad this was a quick read, because I got the author's message early on; after that, he just belabored the point.
This is an unusual book. In some ways, it is a meditation on how to be in the world. The main character, Suzanne, is at one extreme of wanting little to do with the world of humans and to just be an observer of (although not one that wants to really understand) the natural world. She has a job and two friends. Her husband who is working in the Middle East with a helping organization is her opposite. He feels that we should do as much as we can to improve the world. The writing is lovely.
This is a book about how to live at home with no people. I love the donkey and the main character's relationship with it. The atmosphere is beautifully described as a combination of melancholy and joy. I think the editing could be better- the February chapter talks about the days getting shorter and the September chapter talks about how there was no snow last year (but the February chapter had talked about snow falling all night).
Don’t let the smiling donkey on the cover suck you in...if the pandemic has you feeling low, not the book for you right now. I gave it a 3, because the prose is beautiful. I could not give it more, because the protagonist felt rather self-absorbed to me. I understand depression and the desire to live away from it all, but Suzanne’s complete lack of empathy left me wishing she would have grown or changed over the course of the story.
What a beautiful little book! It is the story of Suzanne who lives alone in Wales. Her husband has gone overseas to help with refugees. One day a donkey arrives at her house. No idea where the donkey came from. No neighbors have lost a donkey. Slowly Suzanne and Gertrude become friends, as Suzanne does not like dealing with people at all. The donkey seems to understand this as she is not fond of many other animals! Together they help each other in the world. No spoilers here!
Nichols is an impressively powerful writer! During Suzanne and Gertrude moved me many times and left me weeping. It is a book to be read when you are in a thoughtful mood, for there is much to savor and to contemplate. It is also one to read when you are not melancholic. I thoroughly enjoyed it and highly recommend it.
I purchased this book in Santa Fe several years ago and made attempts to read it. Finally picked it up today and read it in one go. It’s a very slight book about a woman who takes up very little space in the world. A stray donkey turns up in her yard and she takes her in, naming her Gertrude. Suzanne and Gertrude lead a quiet life of contemplation.
4.5* A treat! Can't remember how I heard about this, but I'm glad that I did.
Not sure that I agree wholly with some of the philosophy presented in this slim but engaging volume (something I'll have to think about), however, I certainly enjoyed the read.
Looking forward to reading more from this talented author/artist/musician.