I want to like Annie Dillard, I really do. I think the world is a better place because Annie Dillard thinks and writes in it.
But . . . the bugs. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is chock-o-block with looking at, thinking about, and describing bugs. Some other creatures too, both larger and smaller than bugs, but mostly bugs.
As much as I appreciate the conclusions Dillard draws about the natural world and the nature of God, her minute observations about critters and plants could barely hold my attention. I took pious pleasure in finishing the book, like I had done something that, while a little boring, had its interesting moments and made me a better person – kind of like going to church.
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