This book is a nonfiction collection of mostly prose, with a couple of poems appearing within, by John Leax. Some of the essays, if that is what they must be called, chronicle his life and times, briefly touching on the moments of drama within Allegany County when the state was considering it for nuclear dump sites but most often reflecting on the nature that surrounds and astounds him on a daily basis. Though the subtitle of the book is 'The Landscape of Faith and Writing,' the book circles faith far more often than writing and really only the beginning of the book clearly places them in the same focal point. The later pieces explore more of his faith in regards to his lifestyle and nature.

I must admit that I am partial to the beginning of the book, specifically Part One and the opening poem [which takes its title from the book, or vice versa], but the whole book was well worth reading. Having had Leax as a teacher and, in a distant sort of way, a compatriot or friend, while I was in college, I thoroughly enjoyed reading the text and hearing echoes of the laugh and tones that I know well from our times in class or meetings. I can picture him laughing with fellow professors, shifting from one pair of glasses to another or complaining about having to use his computer and the evils of email with all the more ease for having his words before me. I would say, however, that his clear prose conveys his tonality without the need of hearing him speak. His words are simple and straight forward, and within them I find the grace of a man who has worked for a long time and has grown to respect the words that are his medium rather than merely attempt to control them.

I do not want to say Leax is one of the last of a dying breed, but the matter is much closer to that than one might hope. His words and imagery are untainted by the masses of visual media that seep unbidden into the conscious of the more modern writers. This might be me saying it, seeing something where it is not, but it is almost as though his words are cleaner without the influence. The patience with which he watches birds and other creatures and cares for his garden is something I cannot find amongst my peers, except in one oddball who disappeared into the west after college.

My only caution is that the prose seems to slow a little in places, in the way that journals often do, and that the book is really not for everyone. If you are interested in seeing the way faith has been integrated into a life, its relation to the chosen vocation and a way of viewing the natural world, I highly recommend this book.

Sigh. I have to admit, though, that some of this glowing review might have been brought on by a bout of nostalgia for a school I miss and a professor who, despite harsh reveiws of my work [which he and I both knew were not up to snuff, let alone whole-hearted efforts], I dearly apreciated and enjoyed. He was a dry old goat and knew what he was talking about, a good man and a good steward ( )