The Lines that Make Us is a collection of thirty stories and thirty photographs by Seattle bus driver Nathan Vass (The View from Nathan’s Bus).“Read this beautiful book about junkies and hookers and bankers and lawyers in the last place in America they can’t avoid each other.”—Paul Currington, Fresh Ground StoriesNathan “...describes the riders—often poor, often not white, often going to bad news, often just being in the world—with a prose that’s at once elegant, rhythmical, and clear.”—Charles Tonderai Mudede, writer, editor, filmmaker, cultural criticWith an introduction by Paul Constant
I've always loved riding the bus, both back in Boston and here in Seattle, and though it's not always the fastest option, and things can get a little sketchy at times, it provides a level of connection to my city that's hard to achieve in any other way. Nathan Vass' brief and beautiful collection of stories illustrates this in a way I had never imagined possible in prose. His love for people and for his city is truly remarkable; even in the most vexing situations he finds a profound silver lining. A writer, filmmaker, artist, and blogger, he loves his job and has declined offers of office jobs to keep his connection to his city. In his stories there is the joy of love, the desperation of anger, the resilience of the human spirit, the swell of love from a community supporting each other, and so much more. These vignettes tell a story of Seattle and its people that it's hard to experience any other way; those who have taken this bus (the 49/7 that goes from the U District through the Rainier Valley) will recognize Nathan as the super-friendly driver with a kind word for every passenger.
I learned of this book from a recommendation at Elliot Bay Books, and it's one I will be recommending to all of my friends skeptical about taking the bus. It's not just a mode of transportation; it's a way of getting connected to the vast, interconnected network of humanity all around you. Read this book, and ride the bus, and if you're lucky, you'll meet Nathan, and perhaps get his autograph on a transfer slip on the way to the Rainier valley.
This was a one-sitting, cry a little because it holds so much that feels real and beautiful and true reads for me.
Seeing both bus drivers, who are generally not among the usually-recognized of the civil servants, and the bus drivers' view of their passengers, presented with such dignity and humanity was really powerful. My dad recently retired from Metro, and while he did not generally have Vass-level relationships and friendships with his riders, there was still so much in this book that resonated with what I know about the the duty to welcome, the responsibility to set a tone that keeps things safe and moving, and the service that I am so grateful Vass has put out for the world to appreciate and understand.
I also really appreciate that Vass is able to unreservedly describe not just the effect that he has on people through his work, but to name and credit his methods and approach, such as making everyone who comes on his bus feel welcome, trusting people, and allowing people their dignity. It's like a how-to guide in living your values.
Like several other reviewers, I stumbled across this book while at the Elliot Bay Book Company, a Seattle institution in its own right. They had a section titled ‘Seattle’ where they kept books about Seattle and also books written by (current and former) Seattlites. I was surprised by the number of authors I recognized on that shelf, Kristin Hannah, Lindy West and Ijeoma Oluo. All authors I’ve admired for sometime. Sitting comfortably in their company was this book by Nathan Vass. I picked it up on a whim, not thinking much about it at all. With a quick glance I saw that it was a series of blog posts put together for a book. I decided it might be interesting and bought it!
Nathan Vass has been driving the #7, (and a couple other buses #49, #253) for nearly a decade of living in Seattle. Armed with a Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Washington, he is also a photographer and an artist. It was on a chance encounter at a friend’s gallery event, that he was inspired to document his daily rides using a blog. Although skeptical in the beginning, he found that blogging was a great way to highlight the positive experiences in his work as a bus driver. And he has had a lot of them! The book reads as multiple blog entries, each supported with a photograph, on an incident, conversation or experience he has had while driving the #7. The #7 rides through what is supposedly the most diverse zip code in all of the US; Rainier Valley, South Seattle.
I found his narrative style heart warming, in the way he is able to bring together his thoughts, humor and keen sense of observation with sheer poetry. It’s poetic in that some of his experiences, with people/riders who are living very different lives than he himself is, somehow ends up being uplifting, not only to the reader but also to him. I am not sure if I warmed up to the book as quickly because I live in Seattle and am slowly warming up to the idea of being a Seattlite myself, or simply because of the richness of his prose.
it is a quick read and a worthy recommendation. Apart from the obvious positivity, the book also touches on topics of homelessness, community, urban living and relationships. Thank you, Nathan for everything you do! You are a true local hero.
What a wonderful book! Nathan Vass drives a Metro bus in Seattle on a route that passes through the most diverse parts of the city. The short essays in this book first appeared on his blog, "The View from Nathan's Bus", and they illuminate the lives and situations that he experiences every day. This was a totally charming and thoughtful book. It's easy to see why Nathan has been described as "the nicest guy in Seattle".
About 75% of the way through this book I got stuck. I just didn't want to read it. For MONTHS. I've been sitting with the question of why the whole time and this morning I looked at it sitting on the table and the thought surged, "I am finishing this", and as I read the sense that's been bothering me but irritatingly unclear this whole time snapped into focus. He relates an encounter with a homeless man while he and his friend are shooting a film involving an actor portraying a homeless person:
"It was a surprise when, amidst shooting, an actual homeless person came over to have a few words with him [the actor]. ... I've never forgotten what he said, which was, "You're not doing it right. You have to put your head in the space of, you have nothing to look forward to. You have absolutely nothing to look forward to, to bring you up. There's no hope, no possibility, nothing. There is just this, right here." ... None of us can completely imagine the sensation that man was describing about himself-the feeling of treading water, quite possibly forever. Ryan [the actor] took the instruction well, and the man's words led to an improvement in the performance. I remember turning to ... our AD, and quipping, "This guy gives better direction than I do!"
Over and over while reading these stories nothing seems to actually get through the author's...cloak of positivity. It's like a shield. As I kept reading I came across this interaction:
"Iss coo'," he replied, in a monotone I took to be standard-issue emotionless male adolescent, but which quickly revealed itself to be something more. "I was just in this accident though. The driver died." "Aoouuugh," I said. He was young. Should a high-schooler know the face of death this well? "I'm so sorry. Somebody you knew?" I wasn't looking at his face, but it felt like I was, hearing the naked grit in his voice: "Mah best friend." "Aaaooo," I moaned again. "I am so sorry. I know how that feels."
I can't help wondering at the author, you do? You know how that feels? Maybe he does, but since he doesn't share that in the narrative I'm not gonna know. Knowing what to say to people who are grieving is hard and in the moment we often don't say the right thing but then he goes off on this philosophical tangent that ends in him imagining the young man learning some universal truth and smiling. And as I kept reading I realized, he's romanticizing all of these stories. All of these people and the hardships or the joys they're experiencing are colored over with the author's imaginings. Describing a homeless couple "as straight out of Dickens" and talking about their "lifetime of adventures" just...feels icky to me. I wanted to read other people's stories and I do value hope and I also admire the author's ability to talk to and engage with so many people. He sounds like a really nice guy and perhaps these entries are how he processes the variety of life circumstances one must encounter having such a public-facing job, but once the notion of "romanticizing" clicked into place in my head I just couldn't unsee it and I guess I just wish that the bus riders would have been centered in their stories, instead of the author.
As a Seattle bus rider, I selected this book for another’s insight on the culture and anthropological experience of observing years worth of bus interactions. The anecdotes ranged from mundane to fascinating, but it felt very self-serving. I don’t doubt the author’s compassion for and friendship with the disenfranchised, but it rang like a college admissions essay.
This had real potential. If I could give the author feedback, it would be the following: - Don’t presume to know and then state the impact of your consistent wave to a regular rider experiencing homelessness. Stop telling the reader how much you mean to others. It’s presumptive. Let them come to their own conclusions. - Tell the story and share your thoughts - including those that don’t depict you as Mother Teresa. Even the most compassionate people can become desensitized or frustrated by another’s behavior when that individual is operating in survival mode. Omitting those less than flattering thoughts and reactions, and the subsequent moments of self-reflection, detracts from the authenticity. (In other words, it makes me think you’re full of it.) - Preach love and understanding, but not at the end of every segment! It distorts the message of humility into arrogance. Again, give the reader space to draw their own conclusions.
Nathan Vass is an important member of our community, and I'm grateful we have him in our city. It's obvious he's, like, a genuinely good person, which makes it a bummer to say how much I disliked his book. It was well-written, but the brick-wall positivity of every story put me off.
There's some good criticism on here already about how Vass romanticized the suffering of his subjects and shielded himself with optimism, and I agree with it. Trying to find the 'hopeful' resolution to every story in your life is often an attempt to force yourself back into happiness, and it's not wisdom that makes a person fight so hard to always be happy. I kept wanting to read more about the times he doubted himself or when his outlook was challenged, but I only remember one story about a passenger he admitted to not liking, and it ended in a tidy bow. He wasn't interested in writing about those feelings, which is fine, but it made the book lack depth.
My first year in Seattle, the 7 took me everywhere I needed to go. People told me to be careful, that the 7 had a reputation for being unsafe. But I never understood why. It was a bus full of people, as different and as similar as me, everyone just trying to get home, or to work, or out of the rain and cold. Nathan’s stories capture the beautiful humanity that I experienced during my daily rides. This book captures the city in a way I’ve never seen before, and I doubt I will see again.
As a former Metro bus driver (and yes, I drove the #7 at night!), I found this book a lot of fun, and it brought back a lot of memories. I did get weary, though, by the end, of his telling us so very many times just what a great guy he is. I think he is a great guy, but he laid it on a bit thick.
This book will hit you like a Breada... (Props if you get the pun)
As I am struggling to write all my thoughts down, a quote from Macho Man Randy Savage comes to mind - "I’ve soared with the eagles and I’ve slithered with the snakes, and I’ve been everywhere in between and I’m gonna tell you something right now: There’s one guarantee in life — there are no guarantees."
I managed to read this book in 3 days, it was hard to put down even though I had to take breaks at some points because there is a LOT to take in. You will feel every emotion possible while reading this book - you will laugh, cry and sometimes gag but damn will it make you think.
I am probably biased because I am a bus nerd, but this book is more about the human element with bus flavoring. (Is that a thing? It is now.) The book really does accurately depict what riding on Seattle public transit can be like. You get people from all walks of life. A lot of people are fearful of others, especially nowadays and sometimes rightfully so. Other times we are suspicious of people that are totally harmless. (I'd say it's perfectly okay to be afraid, but not to let that fear become hate.) People forget that the majority of people are just trying to make it through life and are a lot like yourself.
One thing this book really teaches is how to handle conflict and make the right choices. Sometimes when dealing with the public you get put on the spot by someone who is, unstable to put it kindly. Nathan really goes to show you can handle people with safely while respecting them. Tact is a really hard thing to learn, I would recommend this book to anyone who works with the public (or is planning to).
I'm definitely going to have to re-read this one to get the most out of it. Since it's a short story format there's a lot going on though it fits the books well because every bus ride is going to be different everyday. (Reminds me of the days I used to spend in Cappy Hill) It might be good to take breaks if you are the type to get overwhelmed because it's also going to hit your emotions. 'Leave the Questions' was one of the ones that really threw me for a loop.
I wouldn't mind reading more from Nathan, maybe someday I'll have a chance to ride his bus if I am ever in the city. I also really love that the print book folds and looks like a bus schedule. Yeah it makes it slightly harder to hold but it's awesome.
In the shadow of this City Election and its rhetoric, it ought to be vital for all who claim to love this city and its people to read The Lines That Make Us.
Then again, there is nothing specifically Seattle about this book at all besides happenstances of place and time. The 358 may carry its own history and its own storied cast—one I miss whenever I recall it—and the 7 has its own localities and subcultures, but ultimately in reading this book you are present on these Lines not as a wary homebound commuter straggling your way along, but instead a witness, an observer, a friend to Nathan Vass, heart full of love, seeing the world his way.
Because I read these Stories from Nathan's Bus, told from Nathan's perspective, and my heart is full of unrestrained, transcendent, placeless love for everyone in these stories. Passionate, quirky, downtrodden, hopeful, full of life and wisdom; spend the time to talk to someone you've never met, give them a smile and a hug, maybe offer a helping hand, and life only gets richer and more beautiful. I find tremendous resonance in Nathan's observation that if you approach everybody with warmth and kindness, there is little in this world to be afraid of.
And it's important that you do that: to approach these stories with warmth and kindness, to see the world his way. My greatest fear in recommending this book far and wide is that people will come in and consume it for its strange curiosities, or use it as fuel for their reductive politics, or come away with some sort of pitying sympathy. The essence of these stories, of the connections herein is adamantly not Sympathy, nor Pity. Remember that, if you would.
I'd never known Nate by name, never known of his local fame behind the wheel, and yet the moment he relates that he drives the later-evening 49/7 combination I knew instantly who the author was. Called up from the dustiest corners of my memory, a smile and a bright greeting came to mind as I sat, fifth printing in hand—just the one. A single moment that should have passed out of remembrance long ago, a single banal greeting on a bus; yet somehow, that little bit of connection still winds its Line through my own mind, brighter now than ever.
Four days into reading this book, I arrived at the stop north of the University Bridge to hitch a ride up the hill, lumbering blue and yellow frame already rattling round the bend under the overpass, echoes in its wake. If only I was always this lucky with the bus schedule, I thought. In the falling dark, the driver was lit from above as he pulled to a stop. No way. Luck is a funny thing: there he was, checking in with everyone as they boarded, some nonplussed by the enthusiasm here in the reserved Northwest. I didn't get a moment to talk to him until I was hopping off at the QFC, already obscured behind another debarker: "I love the book, I love everyone in it!"
Another moment among many on the Lines. But with love, luck, and time, each with its own reward.
This book is a collection of posts pulled from Vass's blog devoted to his experiences driving a bus in Seattle. I'm not a dedicated reader of that blog, but I have checked in often enough that the book was not really surprising, in either a positive or negative way.
The overarching theme is an appreciation for individuals, untarnished by any judgment. Their accomplishments, no matter how big or how small, are to be celebrated; their mistakes are to be, at the most, acknowledged, but then only as a stepping stone to some broader point (empathy or self-awareness are the two most common).
The cynic (and Bayesian) in me finds it hard to view this as a coherent world-view, to be perpetually forgiving and understanding. Nevertheless, Vass's writing draws you in and invests you emotionally. Like his blog, this book is worth reading because it makes you want to be a better person.
As a side note, if his real-life personality is even a fraction as open and loving as the curated version present in his writing and if the response he elicits is even a fraction of what he describes, then an empirical approach (and Bayes) warn against complete acceptance of the cynical view in the previous paragraph.
Two isolated comments:
I mostly appreciate Vass's artistic approach to writing, but there are passages where I'd trade it all for some direct language. It's not fun or enlightening to chase down pronouns so you can puzzle through whether he's referencing the current subject or a character in some tangent that was thrown in half-way through the main narrative.
Because it is so unnecessary, the cruelty referenced twice in the book (someone threw a bag of feces from a moving vehicle onto a homeless person, and someone tricked a homeless person into drinking motor oil by pretending it was a fountain drink) is, in some ways, more striking than acts that are objectively more heinous.
my favorite quote: "He had a vision of the world as a better place, a place where things can be accomplished."
Some of us have public transportation in our blood. It is a reliable and often necessary mode of getting from point a to point b, and further. My memories go back to the Key System Line (B) that would bring us from our Oakland neighborhood over the Bay Bridge to San Francisco. In the mornings, at the line 18 stop, there were fathers on their way to work along with a few of us who would transfer to the 57 bus to Oakland High. In the mid-1960s, I would take the B bus to San Francisco and transfer to the 5 McAllister to Golden Gate Park where I volunteered at the California Academy of Sciences. Each ride was something special, dependable. The bus was freedom for someone who couldn't drive or didn't have a car.
Riding a bus puts you in touch with others, an experience you can't have if you're in a car. Nathan Vass drives a bus in Seattle. His book is from the point of view of the bus driver and the passengers he gets to know through years of interacting with them on the buses he drives. It is a different viewpoint than what we are used to. How often do we meet bus drivers who we interact with beyond a "hello" when we get on and a "thank you" when we depart? (I can think of an instance on a Portland 15 bus where the driver started singing a bluesy song as we rode over the Morrison Bridge, all of us applauding when we reached the next stop.)
Nathan has the ability to engage with the passengers on his bus, to support them with more than a smile. He has compassion beyond that of a typical bus driver who just hopes that nothing bad will happen during their shift.
The stories from Nathan's bus show how much of a humanitarian Nathan Vass is. He cares for people in a way we all should care for our fellow humans. He has a keen sense of observation and diplomacy. He knows when and how to engage, and when to step away.
This is an overwhelmingly positive look at humankind, especially the downtrodden, who nevertheless have their own dignity, which Nathan sees and understands. His compassion knows no bounds. Let's spread it around.
When I was clearing out my parent's house I sold a bunch of stuff on craigslist. One of the things I was surprised at was the variety of people that came to the house. Some were people I were used to: newly married couples filling out their new house, college students looking for cheap furniture, older people looking for a new hobby. But some of the people I wasn't as used to: a person who had to time their hour-long bus ride out to our suburb between jobs, a man working for a non-profit who aggressively and rudely tried to negotiate the price down too much, and a few people down on their luck in difficult living situations. (For some reason people like to tell their life stories when you sell stuff online.) Point being that you can live your whole life believing you're a well-rounded person, but when you actually get out there and engage with your neighbors and people in your city, you realize just how much there is out there, just how sheltered and narrow you might be.
This book is like that. A little shake of reality to anyone who thinks they know their city, even a little bit.
They're stories from the bus. They range from mundane stories of routine, to stories of compassion, to stories of anger and possibly violence. I don't know any people like the ones he describes. And I'd like to claim I've been around—I've lived in this town for a total of 7 years, and for years I rode the bus myself along a parallel route to the focus of the book, from south Seattle to UW. Vass is a compassionate driver, telling stories about getting to know regular riders, greeting everyone, breaking up fights, and even getting out of the bus to help people he sees out on the sidewalk. He peppers each recollection with a bit of reflection around the world, so that this becomes something more: not just entertainment, but a useful book, a manual for empathy.
Every now and then, you read a book that touches you and completely changes your worldview. Nathan Vass’ The Lines That Make Us: Stories from Nathan's Bus is that book.
Full of slice-of-life short stories and photographs of his experience as a Metro Driver, Nathan paints an intimate picture of what taking transit feels like in Seattle and all the characters you meet along the way, from the work commuters to people who are down on their luck and without shelter. He describes the camaraderie he has with his usual passengers and also his experiences dealing with sometimes unsavory situations or passengers.
For most books, I’m usually most drawn to the author’s voice and tone the most, and Nathan’s pieces demonstrate the power of kindness, respect, and tolerance for our fellow humans. I also love his description of how important dialogue and how he tried to capture the spirit of his interactions. Nathan really sees people as people, and through his stories, he makes us realize that we have more in common with each other than we would think.
Coincidentally, he often drives the 7 line, which runs right in my neighborhood. I can say that I can really picture all of the locations and places he describes and imagine all of the situations he must have encountered. We’re fortunate to have such a talented writer and positive, empathetic bus driver in our midst. I'm looking forward to reading everything that he writes in the future.
This powerful collection of vignettes, written by a Seattle Metro bus driver, create a sincere, unvarnished, and thoughtful portrait of the teeming masses of humanity that ride public transit. Each brief story is based on a real-life experience of author Nathan Vass during his shifts as a bus driver. Vass cites Don DeLillo as a literary influence, and I also felt shades of Steinbeck in his compassionate and nuanced perspectives on the lives of the perpetually othered and downtrodden who ride among us.
He deftly navigates complex and contradictory moments in his retelling, which is perhaps best showcased in a vignette about a major interruption to service. A massive Black Lives Matter protest shuts down traffic on part of Route 49, with protesters marching to the Mayor’s house. Ironically, this traffic disruption on behalf of racial justice causes a massive service disruption of the other segment of the route — Route 7, a line that serves Rainier Valley, which many Black Seattleites rely on to get to and from work and home. Vass thoughtfully examines the tensions between the goals of the protesters and their impacts on the communities they’re acting on behalf of.
A genuinely profound and beautiful ode to the shared humanity in us all — we could all learn a thing or two from Nathan Vass’ unerring love for human kind.
What an extraordinary book. A series of short essays of a bus driver’s experiences and encounters, this book will appeal most to bus riders in Seattle, but it is so encompassing of the human spirit, so wise, so beautiful, that it should appeal to anyone.
Most of the stories are uplifting tales of the dignity of all, no matter what we might think based on appearances. Nathan’s routes go through parts of town that have more of the poor and the downtrodden, the sick, the addicted, the homeless. But he’s a friendly guy and he gets to know his riders by name, and he therefore sees the character hiding behind the facade of dirt and discombobulation. That is the true beauty of this book. It’s eye-opening and hopeful without being pollyannaish.
One of the first essays is about a couple of typical bus denizens having a discussion analyzing Shakespeare. Most people looking at them would just see Homeless, Alcoholic, Shabby, and maybe Dangerous. Nathan sees intelligent, well-educated people talking about literature, one of his favorite topics. I want to be as open and appreciative as he is of the people around us.
These hopeful stories will stay with me. I can’t emphasize enough just how lovely this book is. It’s amazing.
I had the privilege of riding Nathan’s bus recently. At first I didn’t know it was him but when I saw people getting on smiling and waving and hearing the stops being called out over the microphone instead of the normal electronic announcements I knew there was something different about this bus. I went up front and asked “are you Nathan? I think I have your book” and was immediately greeted with the most charismatic “Hello!! What’s your name?”
These stories are the stories of the people I ride the bus with every week and help to remind me to have compassion for people in the margins, for people who don’t smell good, for people who have episodes, for people who I hope won’t sit next to me. Nathan does an amazing job of humanizing all of these people and if I hadn’t met him in person I wouldn’t have believed a bus driver could get to know all these people so intimately…but now I do. Thank you Nathan for telling these stories. I can’t wait for the next batch. Until then, hope to catch your bus again sometime soon.
Public transportation is a topic i feel deeply passionate about, in it’s serving as a basic public good, to it’s effect on real estate, to it’s contribution to accessibility and opportunity of people who need to get from A to B. So when I saw this in a bookstore in Magnolia, I had to pick it up. This book outlines the various anecdotes of the bus driver of route #7 in Seattle. It’s interlaced with stories of hope, kindness and humanity as he sees the most haggard, most despised people - often homeless and mentally ill or drunk who travel because it’s easier to sit in the bus than lay in the cold, but people whose names he knows. It will always always always be perplexing to me, how contentious public transportation is in the US, or just the utterly negative rhetoric people use to describe taking public transportation because of the characters they experience along the way. It’s refreshing to see a young bus driver embrace them, and speak of the often fleeting but profound moments that are more impactful than one might imagine. What a unique opportunity it is, and what a gift it is to have someone with his attitude.
One chapter I particularly appreciated: protestors of a BLM march which interrupted his route, not realizing how ironic it was that the people whose lives they were disrupting were the ones they were supposedly protesting for.
1 star docked because there were a couple of anecdotes where his reflections were a wee bit self-righteous. He is doing good work, but did not appreciate the savior complex tone.
-This was a charming read. -This featured the scrappy underdogs of Seattle. -The conclusion wasn’t what I expected.
Critique: How did Nathan evolve? I can’t tell where he began or ended. Each chapter was from a different point in time. Why did he arrange the chapters in a non-linear fashion?
Nathan Vass ends the book on a high, but how did he struggle to adjust to bus driving? He did encounter some conflict, but he doesn’t turn much of that inward. He is merely relating events at some points with some flair, like a close friend who majored in art who was gifted material to write about would do. Turning curated blog posts into a book clearly caused some issues.
So for readers who didn’t read his blog and research him, how and where did he start off in this whole social lab that became his bus? Why is he a bus driver, anyway? Why even drive in the first place? What was the first day of work like?
This book was gifted to me in an exchange and I totally see why it made such an impact on the stranger who sent it. The stories are heartwarming and detailed and just so real. His descriptions paint a vivid picture of each bus riders face, clothes, and hardships or small triumphs. He invokes so much empathy in me.
I love riding the bus in seattle - I’ll usually be reading a book or just looking out the window with headphones in. His perspective as a driver makes me rethink how even when the bus is empty I’ll take a seat near the rear doors. How there have been times I didn’t wave or thank the driver. I like how he has created a community within his route and is sharing these stories even though he was intending to keep them precious in his journal.
I think I will try to ride Nathan’s bus the next time I am in town to see it for myself.
as a former metro rider, this book made my heart explode. i rode seattle buses every day for four years, and the small, meaningful interactions between drivers and riders contributed so much to my understanding of the city. many of my deepest memories center around riding the bus—my first adventure off campus when we took the route in the wrong direction, being the sole rider on various holidays, seeing other riders’ costumes late one halloween night, and running to catch the bus a number of times when i knew full well another would come in the next 15 minutes. nathan vass lays bare the wonder, chaos, and miracles of human interaction that occur daily on king county metro buses, which is both so valuable and so necessary.
I've never read a book that I've felt such an intense connection with the author and the subject. This is a collection of vignettes and stories told from the perspective of a Seattle bus driver all based on real experiences between 2013 and 2018.
I moved to Seattle in 2010 and rode the bus every week day from 2010 - 2017. What became intensely clear to me is that the author is one of the best of us. The way he observes and the grace with which he interacts with the entire bus ecosystem is amazing to behold. I think he does an incredible job of capturing the fact that the depth of humanity on a city bus is both a beautiful and occasionally terrifying thing.
Seriously though: if you've spent significant time on public transportation this book will make you cry.
I initially thought to read a chapter each night, as these touching stories are so humanly raw that I needed to pace myself; proper time to recover from the tears and proper time to cherish the positive (and sometimes very funny) moments that made me smile. But these stories are so good I ended up staying up all night to read the entire book. This young man is a real hero and so very modest. I loved the part where Nathan expressed fear in sharing his life and stories; that it would somehow diminish the special moments. But Nathan writes so well that I think he truly expanded his private and special moments to all of us. Thank you, Nathan, for trusting your readers and sharing your life with us.
If I could give this book a 10, I would. This is a beautiful book, told by a beautiful person. I read this in small doses, in order to make it last longer, as well as to give myself time to think about each encounter that he describes. Nathan makes every person live in your mind, no matter their personality or their circumstance. He has such an appreciation for their different struggles, attitudes, triumphs, and life situations. And there is a deep graciousness in his display of their common humanity, wherever they find themselves and however they have reached that point in their lives.
I want to give this book to everyone I love - and I want to ride Nathan's bus!
This book will give you hope that there's still some goodness in the world. The author, in addition to being a writer, photographer, and film maker, drives a bus in Seattle. And he chooses to drive a route that goes through some of the most down-and-out neighborhoods in the city. These very short stories and vignettes of the people he's met while driving the bus are wonderful, and certainly helped remind me about the importance of recognizing all people as fellow humans, regardless of their situations. Truly moving.