Reviews for My First Summer in the Sierra

The average rating for My First Summer in the Sierra based on 2 reviews is 4.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2014-06-11 00:00:00 Chadwick Holsopple Why would I read this? For one, it takes place in my hood. Two, it's by John Muir, the famous Scottish/American naturalist and founder of the Sierra Club, which saved national treasures like Yosemite and the Sequoia National Park. Without Muir this might no longer exist as it does to this day... If it weren't for Muir these living trees, some of which have been here longer than the pyramids, may have been cut down... To look at a map of the United States, one would get the impression that moving west a traveler would encounter the Rocky Mountains and then nothing but lowlands stretching out to the Pacific. But no, there are more mountains to be passed once you hit California and they are no joke. Just ask the Donner Party. Muir's task was to enter this rugged country to oversee a herd of sheep sent into the mountains to forage during the blistering Summers suffered upon the San Joaquin Valley floor. My First Summer in the Sierra is his recounting of this life-altering experience. One thing is obvious almost from the beginning. John Muir was a good writer. His elegant use of language was apt for the grandeur of his subject. And the sheer joy he felt in being there is so evident in his effusive language. The second thing that became apparent about Muir is that he was smart. His writing portraits a clear head and a clearly intelligent mind. One gets the impression that he would've excelled at whatever vocation he chose. The Nobly-Bearded John Muir He was a man of science who believed in God and believed he was best communed with through nature. No need to cut down the trees to make cathedrals when the cathedrals are already built and have been standing for hundreds, even thousands of years. My First Summer in the Sierra will likely invest within you a strong desire to see all he is describing. I felt as if I could've gone on and on reading his accounts forever. However, it's probably for the best that this is short. It's mostly just straight up description - like watching a well-shot nature documentary - very beautiful description indeed, but pretty much plotless. The only tension is in whether or not the sheep will survive and a few encounters with friend and foe. Just the same, readers should be thankful there's any tension at all, this isn't a novel after all. This is an ode to the glories this world has been providing its inhabitants long before we arrived. And long may it last.

Review # 2 was written on 2011-05-11 00:00:00 Kitty Hopkins Listen to Bach, Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 - this is how you will feel while reading John Muir. Exhilarated. Joyous. Passionate. Alive. This book is never far from my reach. It is my inspiration for life. Take a few minutes and read a sample: "Here, we are camped for the night, our big fire, heaped high with rosiny logs and branches, is blazing like a sunrise, gladly giving back the light slowly sifted from the sunbeams of centuries of summers; and in the glow of that old sunlight how impressively surrounding objects are bought forward in relief against the outer darkness." "Watching the daybreak and sunrise. The pale rose and purple sky changing softly to daffodil yellow and white, sunbeams pouring through the passes between the peaks and over the Yosemite domes, making their edges burn; the silver firs in the middle ground catching the glow on their spiry tops, and our camp grove fills and thrills with the glorious light. Everything awakening alert and joyful; the birds begin to stir and innumerable insect people. Deer quietly withdraw into leafy hiding-places in the chaparral; the dew vanishes, flowers spread their petals, every pulse beats high, every life cell rejoices, the very rocks seem to thrill with life. The whole landscape glows like a human face in a glory of enthusiasm, and the blue sky, pale around the horizon, bends peacefully down over all like one vast flower." "Every morning, arising from the death of sleep, the happy plants and all our fellow animal creatures great and small, and even the rocks, seemed to be shouting, 'Awake, awake, rejoice, rejoice, come love us and join in our song. Come! Come!' Nevermore, however weary, should one faint by the way who gains the blessings of one mountain day; whatever his fate, long life, short life, stormy or calm, he is rich forever." "…it seemed the most romantic spot I had yet found'the one big stone with its mossy level top and smooth sides standing square and firm and solitary, like an altar, the fall in front of it bathing it lightly with the finest of the spray, just enough to keep its moss cover fresh; the clear green pool beneath, with its foam-bells and its half circle of lilies leaning forward like a band of admirers, and flowering dogwood and alder trees leaning over all in sun-sifted arches. How delightful the water music'the deep bass tones of the fall, the clashing, ringing spray, and infinite variety of small low tones of the current gliding past the side of the boulder-island, and glinting against a thousand smaller stones down the ferny channel!" "Now comes sundown. The west is all a glory of color transfiguring everything. Far up the Pilot Peak Ridge the radiant host of trees stand hushed and thoughtful, receiving the Sun's good-night, as solemn and impressive a leave-taking as if sun and trees were to meet no more. The daylight fades, the color spell is broken, and the forest breathes free in the night breeze beneath the stars." "How beautiful a rock is made by leaf shadows! Those of the live oak are particularly clear and distinct, and beyond all are in grace and delicacy, now still as if painted on stone, now gliding softly as if afraid of noise, now dancing, waltzing in swift, merry swirls, or jumping on and off sunny rocks in quick dashes like wave embroidery on seashore cliffs. How true and substantial is this shadow beauty, and with what sublime extravagance is beauty thus multiplied."