Seasons of Death and Life: A Wilderness Memoir

Ross chronicles the few short years of her life of a religious (Anglican) solitary in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. But this is no head-in-the-clouds reverie; it is literally as down-to-earth as one can get. Ostensibly called to be the "caretaker" of a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, she gradually learns (or relearns) the skills needed for surviving both the elements and her internal conflicts with her God. She lets us in on the tedious, the beautiful, the fearfulness, the disappointments, and comforts she finds in her surroundings and a few friends. At the outset, she is the stranger in this tucked-away corner of the world, but gradually warms to a few wilderness-dwelling "neighbors" (being those who live within a 20-minute drive over unmarked gravel paths), especially the rough-hewn woman called Muskrat. Roughly speaking, the first half of the book is taken up by her exquisite descriptions of the woods where she lives, her growing appreciation and respect for the beauties and dangers of the deep woods, and her growing friendships, with the second half being the "death and life" part of the title. While her calling is that of a 20th-century hermit, most of the folks she shares the forest with are also, in their way, hermits. They have all chosen a life apart. And, following in the footsteps of the solitaries of the past, Ross finds that living alone in no way separates her from her God, nor, indeed, does it separate her from her own pain and doubt, accumulated over the decades. She bares her soul to us, and gives us a glimpse of the extraordinary grace that is available to those who earnestly seek it. Her authentic humanity, in conjunction with her struggles with God, form the underlying flow of this memoir. Her writing is moving without being maudlin, spiritual without being preachy. Anyone having difficulties relating to the Christian God will find here a taste of the fresh, cool waters that the Psalmist writes of. Ross suffers greatly during her sojourn in the woods, but it is to our benefit. Highly recommended.

Maggie Ross writes eloquently about her time spent as a solitary religious (the modern term for what was once described as a hermit) in a small town on the Northwest Coast. Her struggles with healing, her encounters with trespassers and bureaucrats of all sorts, her relationships with her neighbors and her inner journey are openly and honestly described. Although her language occasionally gets a little "wordy", especially toward the beginning, Ross manages to make her points without preaching, not sparing herself, or others. Her imagery is lucent and beautiful, for the most part, and some parts of the book are actively hilarious and sad at the same time. Reminiscent of Annie Dillard. An insightful, beautiful and thought-provoking book, and one I am very glad to own.