an essay
Those of you who know me and know my reading tastes may still not know that one of my favorite writers is Rick Bass. I can’t recommend his fiction-it’s interesting, and fine, really-but his non-fiction is not to be missed. Any of his books, really: Ninemile Wolves (out of print, though I just bought a copy from Powells), Colter, etc. I’ve read maybe half of his books and am forever enthralled by his ability to transport me into nature.
I just ran across this essay, Postwar Paris: Chronicles of a Literary Life and again am struck by the ease with which language seems to flow from him. I dream of that level of command in writing…
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