In 2005, Tim McCreight wrote The Syntax of Objects, his first foray into the genre called creative nonfiction. His elegant book consists of short musings on the relationship we have with the objects in our lives. As a maker of objects, he wonders out loud about the way our memories and senses relate to decisions about what we make and how we go about making choices in the studio and in our living material world. The revised edition uses the same text, but packages it in a smaller and thicker volume. The new Syntax augments the text with pinhole camera images like the original edition, but this book includes more of them. This edition replaces the original (gold/red) book, which is now out of print.
An odd but engaging book, a blend of philosophy, science and memoir, but that doesn't quite capture it. The author, a maker of things, goes into depth (and occasional rhapsodies) about the physical, psychological and spiritual nature of objects and our relationships to them. Of particular interest (and interestingly expressed) are how objects are reflections of time, or literal carriers of time. They are markers of our moments and our memories.
Some lovely writing here, with almost all of the short pieces having some thoughtful value and even some poetic lyricism. My one quibble with the work is that almost all of the passages are illustrated with grainy, sepia-toned imagery and I grew frustrated that every one was like that, because some of the writing about the objects was so sharp and crisp, and yet every image was gauzy and dim. I would have much preferred some sharp, some not. A small thing, yes, but annoying to me.
This book brushes against something incredibly profound and amazing. Its presentation is fantastic. The voice is rich and earnest. It, ultimately, falls short for me in its meandering. For me, it lacks a cohesion in both the metaphysical concepts and the ethereality-seeking prose. I love the idea of this book and I'll be reading again.