Book Donald Hall - Essays after Eighty DOC, EPUB, DJV
9780544570313 English 0544570316 "Alternately lyrical and laugh-out-loud funny." New York Times Deliciously readable . . . Donald Hall, if abandoned by the muse of poetry, has wrought his prose to a keen autumnal edge. Wall Street Journal His entire life, Donald Hall has dedicated himself to the written word, putting together a storied career as a poet, essayist, and memoirist. Now, in the unknown, unanticipated galaxy of very old age, he is writing essays that startle, move, and delight. In Essays After Eighty, Hall ruminates on his past: thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . . He also addresses his present: When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches. Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him every day: Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again. Alluring, inspirational hominess . . . Essays After Eighty is a treasure . . . balancing frankness about losses with humor and gratitude. Washington Post A fine book of remembering all sorts of things past, Essays After Eighty is to be treasured. Boston Globe ", "Alternately lyrical and laugh-out-loud funny."-- New York Times "Deliciously readable . . . Donald Hall, if abandoned by the muse of poetry, has wrought his prose to a keen autumnal edge." -- Wall Street Journal His entire life, Donald Hall has dedicated himself to the written word, putting together a storied career as a poet, essayist, and memoirist. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing essays that startle, move, and delight. In Essays After Eighty, Hall ruminates on his past: "thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." He also addresses his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him everyday: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again." "Alluring, inspirational hominess . . . Essays After Eighty is a treasure . . . balancing frankness about losses with humor and gratitude." -- Washington Post "A fine book of remembering all sorts of things past, Essays After Eighty is to be treasured." -- Boston Globe, "Laconic, witty, and lyrical, Hall is a master stylist, yet he remains refreshingly humble and matter-of-fact . . . This work offers revealing insights into the human condition--and the grit and openness it requires." -- "Publishers Weekly, "starred review "One of our preeminent men of letters. The range of his published works is truly astonishing." -- Charles SimicFrom a former Poet Laureate, a new collection of essays delivering a gloriously unexpected view from the vantage point of very old age Donald Hall has lived a remarkable life of letters, a career capped by a National Medal of the Arts, awarded by the president. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing searching essays that startle, move, and delight. In the transgressive and horrifyingly funny "No Smoking," he looks back over his lifetime, and several of his ancestors' lifetimes, of smoking unfiltered cigarettes, packs of them every day. Hall paints his past: "Decades followed each other -- thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." And, poignantly, often joyfully, he limns his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him, every day: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again.", From a former Poet Laureate, a new collection of essays delivering a gloriously unexpected view from the vantage point of very old age Donald Hall has lived a remarkable life of letters, a career capped by a National Medal of the Arts, awarded by the president. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing searching essays that startle, move, and delight. In the transgressive and horrifyingly funny "No Smoking," he looks back over his lifetime, and several of his ancestors' lifetimes, of smoking unfiltered cigarettes, packs of them every day. Hall paints his past: "Decades followed each other thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." And, poignantly, often joyfully, he limns his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him, every day: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again."
9780544570313 English 0544570316 "Alternately lyrical and laugh-out-loud funny." New York Times Deliciously readable . . . Donald Hall, if abandoned by the muse of poetry, has wrought his prose to a keen autumnal edge. Wall Street Journal His entire life, Donald Hall has dedicated himself to the written word, putting together a storied career as a poet, essayist, and memoirist. Now, in the unknown, unanticipated galaxy of very old age, he is writing essays that startle, move, and delight. In Essays After Eighty, Hall ruminates on his past: thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . . He also addresses his present: When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches. Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him every day: Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again. Alluring, inspirational hominess . . . Essays After Eighty is a treasure . . . balancing frankness about losses with humor and gratitude. Washington Post A fine book of remembering all sorts of things past, Essays After Eighty is to be treasured. Boston Globe ", "Alternately lyrical and laugh-out-loud funny."-- New York Times "Deliciously readable . . . Donald Hall, if abandoned by the muse of poetry, has wrought his prose to a keen autumnal edge." -- Wall Street Journal His entire life, Donald Hall has dedicated himself to the written word, putting together a storied career as a poet, essayist, and memoirist. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing essays that startle, move, and delight. In Essays After Eighty, Hall ruminates on his past: "thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." He also addresses his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him everyday: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again." "Alluring, inspirational hominess . . . Essays After Eighty is a treasure . . . balancing frankness about losses with humor and gratitude." -- Washington Post "A fine book of remembering all sorts of things past, Essays After Eighty is to be treasured." -- Boston Globe, "Laconic, witty, and lyrical, Hall is a master stylist, yet he remains refreshingly humble and matter-of-fact . . . This work offers revealing insights into the human condition--and the grit and openness it requires." -- "Publishers Weekly, "starred review "One of our preeminent men of letters. The range of his published works is truly astonishing." -- Charles SimicFrom a former Poet Laureate, a new collection of essays delivering a gloriously unexpected view from the vantage point of very old age Donald Hall has lived a remarkable life of letters, a career capped by a National Medal of the Arts, awarded by the president. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing searching essays that startle, move, and delight. In the transgressive and horrifyingly funny "No Smoking," he looks back over his lifetime, and several of his ancestors' lifetimes, of smoking unfiltered cigarettes, packs of them every day. Hall paints his past: "Decades followed each other -- thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." And, poignantly, often joyfully, he limns his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him, every day: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again.", From a former Poet Laureate, a new collection of essays delivering a gloriously unexpected view from the vantage point of very old age Donald Hall has lived a remarkable life of letters, a career capped by a National Medal of the Arts, awarded by the president. Now, in the "unknown, unanticipated galaxy" of very old age, he is writing searching essays that startle, move, and delight. In the transgressive and horrifyingly funny "No Smoking," he looks back over his lifetime, and several of his ancestors' lifetimes, of smoking unfiltered cigarettes, packs of them every day. Hall paints his past: "Decades followed each other thirty was terrifying, forty I never noticed because I was drunk, fifty was best with a total change of life, sixty extended the bliss of fifty . . ." And, poignantly, often joyfully, he limns his present: "When I turned eighty and rubbed testosterone on my chest, my beard roared like a lion and gained four inches." Most memorably, Hall writes about his enduring love affair with his ancestral Eagle Pond Farm and with the writing life that sustains him, every day: "Yesterday my first nap was at 9:30 a.m., but when I awoke I wrote again."