The audience that would fit on each finger of the metaphorical glove of this book is the audience that enjoys reading a sentence, or a paragraph, and then reading it over and over again, first for clarity, then for understanding, and again and again for the many reasons. facets of symbolic representation that Dillard paints with a substantial amount of clarity. A commentator on Dillard’s writings described Dillard’s thinking as “acrobatic” and I am almost certain that the word [i.e., acrobatic] It would probably describe Dillard’s style of thinking better than anyone else. Take, for example, the following:
“But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny literally brightens your day, then, since the world is planted on pennies, with your poverty you have bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.”
So philosophical and so hopeful… at least in this paragraph! The ideal of making your own days by cultivating the “virtues” is probably appealing to any reader who believes in the incredible power of the mind. (p. 17, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Nature lovers will also enjoy this book, as will philosophers whose minds do not take the single path of philosophy and are not opposed to philosophical gymnastics. Those who love nature and philosophy will enjoy Dillard’s ability to find connections between nature and the metaphysics of life; the theory that learning, knowledge, and all that is necessary is available in anything observable, even the particles of an atom, is evident throughout this work. Dillard jumps from the cataclysmic universe to single-celled rotifers in a pond near Dillard’s house:
“Donald E. Carr points out that the sensory impressions of single-celled animals are not edited for the brain: “This is philosophically interesting in a rather sad way, since it means that only the simplest animals perceive the universe as it is.” ( p.21, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Those readers who enjoy a conglomeration of writing created by the skillful networking of an author who constantly references the works of other distinguished authors will also find Dillard’s work intriguing. She [Dillard] must reference at least a dozen authors or movements throughout the book:
“As a true transcendentalist, Miss Dillard understands that her task is one of full alertness.” (p. 284, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
For those fans and drinkers of irony and paradox, this is the stuff of which Miss Dillard’s mind and subsequent writing style are made. Take, for example, her comment about our closest solar star:
“We have really only that light, a source for all power, and yet we must turn away from it by universal decree.” (p. 25, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek).
Dillard’s humor, often bordering on the macabre, allows the reader, in a moment, to put life into proper perspective and realize our common desire for power and understanding… for control and the ability to take part in an Earth that seems, falsely, at times, subservient to our will and knowledge:
“Should I take him outside and show him Andromeda, and blow out his little endoplasm?” (p. 26, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek).
Y…
“What is this?” she asked. That, she wanted to say as she acknowledged the award she had, is a memento mori for people who read too much.” (p. 92, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Dillard’s chapter on “Seeing” is perhaps his greatest contribution to the true, yet unseen, connections between the physical and the metaphysical. Take, for example, his comment about the blind experiencing sight for the first time:
“It oppresses them to realize that they have been visible to people all along, perhaps in an unattractive way, without their knowledge or consent.” (p.30, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Y….
“Some learn to see, especially the young. But it changes their lives. A doctor comments on “the rapid and complete loss of that amazing and wonderful serenity which is characteristic only of those who have never seen.” (p. 30, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Y…
“Why didn’t someone give those newly sighted people paints and brushes from the beginning, when they still didn’t know what anything was? Then maybe we can all see patches of color too, the world got rid of reason, Eden before of Adam giving names. (p. 32, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Dillard’s pun is also outstanding and will continually bring chills and other physical effects of well-arranged words:
“Couldn’t shell the peaches.” (p. 32, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Y…
“…barefoot and shod…” (p.35, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
The reason and reality or stupidity of believing in God… in organization… in goodness… are also implicit themes in Dillard’s work:
“If, as Heraclitus suggests, god, like an oracle, neither “declares nor conceals, but establishes by signs, “then clearly he had better be guessing the signs.” (p. 65, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Dillard’s personal anecdotes also add an original and insightful flavor to the book, not to mention the fact that Dillard often refers to getting to know his readers:
“Self-awareness is the curse of the city and of all that sophistication implies. It is the glimpse of oneself in a shop window, the spontaneous awareness of the reactions on other people’s faces: the world of the novelist, not the poet’s. He used to live there. I remember what the city has to offer: human fellowship, major league baseball, and an exhilarating noise of stimulation like a rush of hard drugs that leaves you drained.” (p. 82, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Seemingly random events, then linked to seemingly ethereal metaphors, are one of the most enjoyable elements of Dillard’s style throughout this work:
“Before they reversed the unit of the second, people used to time the length of short events in their pulses.” (p.94, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
Perhaps one of the overarching themes (hopefully THE overarching theme) of this work can be painted with this paragraph:
“I’m a frayed and nibbled survivor in a fallen world, and I get by. I’m getting older and I eat and have done my share of eating too. I’m not washed and beautiful, in control of a shiny world where everything fits together, but rather I wander in wonder over a splintered shipwreck I have come to care for, whose gnawed trees breathe delicate air, whose bloodied and scarred creatures are my dearest companions, and whose beauty throbs and shines not in its imperfections but overwhelmingly in spite of them. “. (p. 245, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek)
