Juvenile Nonfiction

52 Books. | May 2010
Dillard, Annie
NY: HarperCollins, 1998 (1974)
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I think this is my third time through this book. I picked it up again as a morning devotional; Dillard herself has described it as “a theodicy.” The depth of insight here — I’ve hardly encountered anything like it, anywhere, in any volume of anything else I’ve read. Her penetration into the heart of nature and the mystery of God sucks the oxygen right out of the room and leaves the reader flipping like a fish on the floor. The poetry and praise on every page, and especially on the last pages, is wildly excessive, and of the highest order. I will not go without a copy of this on my shelf, if I can help it, ever. Nor should you.

Previous Book: 36. I am Not Sidney Portier. Next Book: 38. The reason for God.

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