This is not an autobiography in the ordinary sense of the word, as it contains no history of the events of Richard Jefferies' life. It is not concerned with his birth or marriage, his actions or fortunes but is an outpouring of his soul. Like many others, Jefferies found himself at odds with the world. He saw the beauty of the land, the grandeur of the sea, the interest of
This is not an autobiography in the ordinary sense of the word, as it contains no history of the events of Richard Jefferies' life. It is not concerned with his birth or marriage, his actions or fortunes but is an outpouring of his soul. Like many others, Jefferies found himself at odds with the world. He saw the beauty of the land, the grandeur of the sea, the interest of life - above all of human life - but he was not satisfied. He longed for more beauty, a fuller grandeur, a deeper interest. This feeling completely mastered him, and in this book, first published in 1883, he poured out with what strength he possessed the intensity of his longing.
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Paperback
,
128 pages
Published
January 1st 2003
by Green Books
(first published 1883)
I've given this brief work only 2 stars, not because I disliked it but simply because it's definitely not for everyone. It's unabashedly late 19th century prose and if that's not to your taste, give it a pass.
On the plus side, the writing is quite beautiful and passionate, particularly in conveying the writer's deep relationship to the countryside and to the entire earth in general, a relationship that can best be termed spiritual. His prose immediately brings to mind the poetry of Wordsworth ".
I've given this brief work only 2 stars, not because I disliked it but simply because it's definitely not for everyone. It's unabashedly late 19th century prose and if that's not to your taste, give it a pass.
On the plus side, the writing is quite beautiful and passionate, particularly in conveying the writer's deep relationship to the countryside and to the entire earth in general, a relationship that can best be termed spiritual. His prose immediately brings to mind the poetry of Wordsworth "... I wandered lonely as a cloud ..."
Along the way, Jefferies also goes to some lengths to express his personal philosophy about the destiny and rightful place of mankind, notably his disdain for the commercial and utilitarian world of work, business, human organization and in particular the pursuit of wealth. He was clearly an ascetic who might well have felt at home in an ashram. His view that a life spent working was wasted time certainly brought me up short and made me realize that this was a man from a different world, one that has probably never existed -- and if it did, a world that I could never begin to understand.
However, let's not dismiss this man just because he was a dreamer! We have no shortage of "practical" men. Surely there's room in our consciousness for the occasional pure idealist, the prophet without a country, the holy fool.
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I decided not to finish this. Although I enjoyed the intro by Terry Tempest Williams (her name on the cover was actually the reason I picked up this book) and the commentaries by her husband after each Jefferies chapter, I didn't really like Jefferies' writing or ideas. Jefferies' writing is too flowery and repetitive. For the first few chapters I was able to endure this for the rare clear and interesting thought that emerged every now and again. But it all really went sour for me in the chapter
I decided not to finish this. Although I enjoyed the intro by Terry Tempest Williams (her name on the cover was actually the reason I picked up this book) and the commentaries by her husband after each Jefferies chapter, I didn't really like Jefferies' writing or ideas. Jefferies' writing is too flowery and repetitive. For the first few chapters I was able to endure this for the rare clear and interesting thought that emerged every now and again. But it all really went sour for me in the chapter where he rejects the idea of evolution (Brooke Williams chalks it up to Jefferies' jealousy of Darwin) and then the following chapter in which his ideas seem to flirt with eugenics and where he gets even more annoying in my opinion. I also got tired of him negating and rejecting pretty much any human cultural achievement that wasn't the ancient Greeks or Romans. He kept making these weird digs against the ancient Egyptians, which got real annoying too. I kept thinking 'What has this guy got against the Egyptians?' I mean, the Greeks and Romans were OK, but I never understood why the Victorians had such a hard-on for them. Jefferies sure did.
Unfortunately, I didn't find this book, its writing or its ideas, as worthwhile as the Williamses credit it as being. I think there are better writers and ideas from the past worth revisiting.
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Have you ever been overcome by a sense of awe and wonder? Perhaps outside watching the sun set over a roiling ocean or watching the Milky Way spin overhead on a moonless night? Perhaps you had a sense that you were small yet connected, insignificant and humble yet in touch with something much bigger than yourself, something huge. It is a transcendent feeling, one that Brooke Williams and Terry Tempest Williams are intimately familiar with, and one they recognized right away when they picked up a
Have you ever been overcome by a sense of awe and wonder? Perhaps outside watching the sun set over a roiling ocean or watching the Milky Way spin overhead on a moonless night? Perhaps you had a sense that you were small yet connected, insignificant and humble yet in touch with something much bigger than yourself, something huge. It is a transcendent feeling, one that Brooke Williams and Terry Tempest Williams are intimately familiar with, and one they recognized right away when they picked up an antique copy of THE STORY OF MY HEART by nineteenth century naturalist and mystic, Richard Jefferies. There, in a charming New England independent bookstore, kindred spirits connected over the generations.
At Torrey House Press we think the nineteenth century transcendentalists including Richard Jefferies, and today Brooke and Terry, are on to something. It is a big something that is at the cutting edge of realizing meaning and significance. In THE STORY OF MY HEART, Richard Jefferies speaks of the soul being “the mind of my mind.” Jefferies was tuned into the fast-breaking science of his day. He knew about atomic spectral analysis which was discovered very near the time he wrote THE STORY OF MY HEART. He knew about Darwin’s ideas of evolution (and did not accept them). But whenever Jefferies spent time in natural environments he was thrilled and overwhelmed by the experience of being connected to something greater than religion, or science, or anything that common comprehension allowed. Jefferies had what religious scholar Marcus Borg would call a “thin rind.” He was more sensitive and more aware than most. Like the great mystics before him, Jefferies was easily connected to something real and big out there and it nearly drove him nuts trying to express what he found and experienced.
Today in science, the source and reason for human consciousness remains a mystery. To a pure and reasoned scientist, our sense of self and awareness and free will is necessarily but an elegant illusion, an epiphenomenon that springs from the electro-chemical mechanics in our brains. To most scientists that is, perhaps not to all. The Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics invokes consciousness as the source of a probability wave collapse that brings into existence a material particle where before there was only probability. It is an interpretation that has withstood the rigorous inquiries of science for nearly one hundred years. And it is at the quantum uncertainty level that there comes the possibility of choice, the possible source of the free will and sense of self that we all have. Adventurous thinkers today are considering the brain as a quantum amplifier that can convert the realm of the quantum into that of the material world. There is a notion that a universal consciousness is required to make this new hypothesis work. In that hypothesis, it works out that the material world springs from consciousness, not the other way around. Following this line of logic, there are legitimate questions of whether consciousness might be an element of the universe, just like space and time. And since we humans are creatures that evolved in the wild, it is back home in the wild that we can be most connected to this universal element, and it is through us that the universe becomes aware and continues to evolve.
It well could be that Jefferies was better than most at linking in with universal consciousness. His tool was to get outside and pay attention. With his resulting experience he rejected the idea that he was a simple creation of ancient religious myths or that he was just an elegant machine of science. Brooke and I have discussed how these notions exist somewhere between the disciplines of science and philosophy. Thus it takes free and bold thinkers like Brooke and Terry, smart and objective but not confined to a narrow academic silo, to engage with their own life experiences and more deeply explore this source of meaning, of significance. In that sense they are the new Transcendentalists. Working with them on this adventure of thought has been an honor and privilege for us at Torrey House. A truly transcendent experience.
--Mark Bailey, co-publisher, Torrey House Press
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Have you ever been overcome by a sense of awe and wonder? Perhaps outside watching the sun set over a roiling ocean or watching the Milky Way spin overhead on a moonless night? Perhaps you had a sense that you were small yet connected, insignificant and humble yet in touch with something much bigger than yourself, something huge. It is a transcendent feeling, one that Brooke Williams and Terry Tempest Williams are intimately familiar with, and one they recognized right
Today’s Transcendentalists
Have you ever been overcome by a sense of awe and wonder? Perhaps outside watching the sun set over a roiling ocean or watching the Milky Way spin overhead on a moonless night? Perhaps you had a sense that you were small yet connected, insignificant and humble yet in touch with something much bigger than yourself, something huge. It is a transcendent feeling, one that Brooke Williams and Terry Tempest Williams are intimately familiar with, and one they recognized right away when they picked up an antique copy of THE STORY OF MY HEART by nineteenth century naturalist and mystic, Richard Jefferies. There, in a charming New England independent bookstore, kindred spirits connected over the generations.
Full disclosure: I am co-publisher at Torrey House Press, publisher of this rediscovery publishing project with Brooke and Terry. At THP we think the nineteenth -century transcendentalists including Richard Jefferies, and today Brooke and Terry, are on to something. It is a big something that is at the cutting edge of realizing meaning and significance. In THE STORY OF MY HEART, Richard Jefferies speaks of the soul being “the mind of my mind.” Jefferies was tuned into the fast-breaking science of his day. He knew about atomic spectral analysis which was discovered very near the time he wrote THE STORY OF MY HEART. He knew about Darwin’s ideas of evolution (and did not accept them). But whenever Jefferies spent time in natural environments he was thrilled and overwhelmed by the experience of being connected to something greater than religion, or science, or anything that common comprehension allowed. Jefferies had what religious scholar Marcus Borg would call a “thin rind.” He was more sensitive and more aware than most. Like the great mystics before him, Jefferies was easily connected to something real and big out there and it nearly drove him nuts trying to express what he found and experienced.
Today in science, the source and reason for human consciousness remains a mystery. To a pure and reasoned scientist, our sense of self and awareness and free will is necessarily but an elegant illusion, an epiphenomenon that springs from the electro-chemical mechanics in our brains. To most scientists that is, perhaps not to all. The Copenhagen Interpretation of quantum physics invokes consciousness as the source of a probability wave collapse that brings into existence a material particle where before there was only probability. It is an interpretation that has withstood the rigorous inquiries of science for nearly one hundred years. And it is at the quantum uncertainty level that there comes the possibility of choice, the possible source of the free will and sense of self that we all have. Adventurous thinkers today are considering the brain as a quantum amplifier that can convert the realm of the quantum into that of the material world. There is a notion that a universal consciousness is required to make this new hypothesis work. In that hypothesis, it works out that the material world springs from consciousness, not the other way around. Following this line of logic, there are legitimate questions of whether consciousness might be an element of the universe, just like space and time. And since we humans are creatures that evolved in the wild, it is back home in the wild that we can be most connected to this universal element, and it is through us that the universe becomes aware and continues to evolve.
It well could be that Jefferies was better than most at linking in with universal consciousness. His tool was to get outside and pay attention. With his resulting experience he rejected the idea that he was a simple creation of ancient religious myths or that he was just an elegant machine of science. Brooke and I have discussed how these notions exist somewhere between the disciplines of science and philosophy. Thus it takes free and bold thinkers like Brooke and Terry, smart and objective but not confined to a narrow academic silo, to engage with their life own experiences and more deeply explore this source of meaning, of significance. In that sense they are the new Transcendentalists. Working with them on this adventure of thought has been an honor and privilege for us at Torrey House. A truly transcendent experience.
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The book could also be called The Exalted & the Ecstatic. So is the nature of page after page, line after delirious line – and so many of the lines are so damn lovely. If you picked the best lines and spaced them in an otherwise 'ordinary' narrative they would spark off the base of the ordinary and give you a more sustained appreciation of the writing. But line after line after line of prose describing what the writer repeatedly admits is indescribable, leads one to the edge of profundity to
The book could also be called The Exalted & the Ecstatic. So is the nature of page after page, line after delirious line – and so many of the lines are so damn lovely. If you picked the best lines and spaced them in an otherwise 'ordinary' narrative they would spark off the base of the ordinary and give you a more sustained appreciation of the writing. But line after line after line of prose describing what the writer repeatedly admits is indescribable, leads one to the edge of profundity to realize only the elusiveness of sensations. That's why the best of this book is the best of any book; and the worst of it isn't deserving of denigration, but it might be too much of a good thing. Written in 1883, it's ahead of its time, and you could choose a worse book to read a passage from every night to set yourself dreaming.
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A deeply moving book. I had a hard time getting into Jefferies prose but the commentary by Brooke Williams and text by terry tempest Williams is gripping. I will consider buying a copy (I got from the library) as it is a book to read over time....
What begins as a fascinating insight into one man's relationship with nature quickly becomes an attempt to find a way forward for the entire human race. Not an autobiography in the truest sense of the word, Jefferies believes he has something to say and this meander around his thoughts reveals a few pearls amid the irritating repetition and abundant purple prose. Not for everyone.
Didn't realize what this book was about when I picked it up to read it. It's been on my shelf for ages. Love that it is an exploration of spirit through the natural world. It was very similar to how I am living and connecting in my life currently. Sweet, simple read.
This book is so beautifully written. His words just flow off the page and take you to a place of silent contemplation of the life and the world in which we live.
(John) Richard Jefferies (1848-1887) is best known for his prolific and sensitive writing on natural history, rural life and agriculture in late Victorian England. However, a closer examination of his career reveals a many-sided author who was something of an enigma. To some people he is more familiar as the author of the children’s classic Bevis or the strange futuristic fantasy After London , wh
(John) Richard Jefferies (1848-1887) is best known for his prolific and sensitive writing on natural history, rural life and agriculture in late Victorian England. However, a closer examination of his career reveals a many-sided author who was something of an enigma. To some people he is more familiar as the author of the children’s classic Bevis or the strange futuristic fantasy After London , while he also has some reputation as a mystic worthy of serious study. Since his death his books have enjoyed intermittent spells of popularity, but today he is unknown to the greater part of the reading public. Jefferies, however, has been an inspiration to a number of more prominent writers and W.H. Hudson, Edward Thomas, Henry Williamson and John Fowles are among those who have acknowledged their debt to him. In my view his greatest achievement lies in his expression, aesthetically and spiritually, of the human encounter with the natural world – something that became almost an obsession for him in his last years.
He was born at Coate in the north Wiltshire countryside - now on the outskirts of Swindon - where his family farmed a smallholding of about forty acres. His father was a thoughtful man with a passionate love of nature but was unsuccessful as a farmer, with the result that the later years of Jefferies' childhood were spent in a household increasingly threatened by poverty. There were also, it seems, other tensions in the family. Richard’s mother, who had been brought up in London, never settled into a life in the country and the portrait of her as Mrs Iden - usually regarded as an accurate one - in his last novel, Amaryllis at the Fair , is anything but flattering. Remarks made in some of Jefferies’ childhood letters to his aunt also strongly suggest an absence of mutual affection and understanding between mother and son. A combination of an unsettled home life and an early romantic desire for adventure led him at the age of sixteen to leave home with the intention of traversing Europe as far as Moscow. In this escapade he was accompanied by a cousin, but the journey was abandoned soon after they reached France. On their return to England they attempted to board a ship for the United States but this plan also came to nothing when they found themselves without sufficient money to pay for food.
A self-absorbed and independent youth, Jefferies spent much of his time walking through the countryside around Coate and along the wide chalk expanses of the Marlborough Downs. He regularly visited Burderop woods and Liddington Hill near his home and on longer trips explored Savernake Forest and the stretch of the downs to the east, where the famous white horse is engraved in the hillside above Uffington. His favourite haunt was Liddington Hill, a height crowned with an ancient fort commanding superb views of the north Wiltshire plain and the downs. It was on the summit of Liddington at the age of about eighteen, as he relates in The Story of My Heart, that his unusual sensitivity to nature began to induce in him a powerful inner awakening - a desire for a larger existence or reality which he termed 'soul life'. Wherever he went in the countryside he found himself in awe of the beauty and tranquillity of the natural world; not only the trees, flowers and animals, but also the sun, the stars and the entire cosmos seemed to him to be filled with an inexpressible sense of magic and meaning.
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“It is eternity now. I am in the midst of it. It is about me in the sunshine; I am in it as the butterfly in the light-laden air. Nothing has to come; it is now. Now is eternity; now is the immortal life.”
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“The soul throbs like the sea for a larger life. No thought which I have ever had has satisfied my soul.”
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5 likes