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totesridic's review against another edition
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
slow-paced
4.0
emilycmarshman's review against another edition
5.0
I cannot recall the last time I have felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction.
That's a lie. The last time I felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction was Maggie Nelson's Bluets.
Zach has a way of writing that makes you feel but also makes you feel almost guilty for feeling. He doesn't want your pity. He has cancer; it's a fact. He doesn't want your pity. He wants you to be human. Every human being (unless, of course, they were born with a predisposition not to feel empathy) pities -- we cannot ignore this fact. We are pitied; we are pitiful; we pity. On the back of the book, there are reviews. Jess Lacher says, "This book made me want to be my most human self, drunk and shirtless and climbing a hill." I agree wholeheartedly with her.
As I said before, in my review of his book of poems, The Orchard Green and Every Color, I had the pleasure of meeting Zach; he came to my school to read for us and to speak with us about what it's like to be a poet and also what it's like to be himself; and that, both unexpectedly and expectedly, influenced my reading of Diving Makes the Water Deep. This is not a very long book. It should not have taken me over a month to read, but every time I looked at it, all I could think about was how much this felt like an ending of sorts.
It's a beautiful, beautiful book. I am lucky that it was published in my lifetime. I am lucky to have read it.
That's a lie. The last time I felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction was Maggie Nelson's Bluets.
Zach has a way of writing that makes you feel but also makes you feel almost guilty for feeling. He doesn't want your pity. He has cancer; it's a fact. He doesn't want your pity. He wants you to be human. Every human being (unless, of course, they were born with a predisposition not to feel empathy) pities -- we cannot ignore this fact. We are pitied; we are pitiful; we pity. On the back of the book, there are reviews. Jess Lacher says, "This book made me want to be my most human self, drunk and shirtless and climbing a hill." I agree wholeheartedly with her.
As I said before, in my review of his book of poems, The Orchard Green and Every Color, I had the pleasure of meeting Zach; he came to my school to read for us and to speak with us about what it's like to be a poet and also what it's like to be himself; and that, both unexpectedly and expectedly, influenced my reading of Diving Makes the Water Deep. This is not a very long book. It should not have taken me over a month to read, but every time I looked at it, all I could think about was how much this felt like an ending of sorts.
It's a beautiful, beautiful book. I am lucky that it was published in my lifetime. I am lucky to have read it.
emilycmarshman's review
5.0
I cannot recall the last time I have felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction.
That's a lie. The last time I felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction was Maggie Nelson's Bluets.
Zach has a way of writing that makes you feel but also makes you feel almost guilty for feeling. He doesn't want your pity. He has cancer; it's a fact. He doesn't want your pity. He wants you to be human. Every human being (unless, of course, they were born with a predisposition not to feel empathy) pities -- we cannot ignore this fact. We are pitied; we are pitiful; we pity. On the back of the book, there are reviews. Jess Lacher says, "This book made me want to be my most human self, drunk and shirtless and climbing a hill." I agree wholeheartedly with her.
As I said before, in my review of his book of poems, The Orchard Green and Every Color, I had the pleasure of meeting Zach; he came to my school to read for us and to speak with us about what it's like to be a poet and also what it's like to be himself; and that, both unexpectedly and expectedly, influenced my reading of Diving Makes the Water Deep. This is not a very long book. It should not have taken me over a month to read, but every time I looked at it, all I could think about was how much this felt like an ending of sorts.
It's a beautiful, beautiful book. I am lucky that it was published in my lifetime. I am lucky to have read it.
That's a lie. The last time I felt so deeply for a piece of nonfiction was Maggie Nelson's Bluets.
Zach has a way of writing that makes you feel but also makes you feel almost guilty for feeling. He doesn't want your pity. He has cancer; it's a fact. He doesn't want your pity. He wants you to be human. Every human being (unless, of course, they were born with a predisposition not to feel empathy) pities -- we cannot ignore this fact. We are pitied; we are pitiful; we pity. On the back of the book, there are reviews. Jess Lacher says, "This book made me want to be my most human self, drunk and shirtless and climbing a hill." I agree wholeheartedly with her.
As I said before, in my review of his book of poems, The Orchard Green and Every Color, I had the pleasure of meeting Zach; he came to my school to read for us and to speak with us about what it's like to be a poet and also what it's like to be himself; and that, both unexpectedly and expectedly, influenced my reading of Diving Makes the Water Deep. This is not a very long book. It should not have taken me over a month to read, but every time I looked at it, all I could think about was how much this felt like an ending of sorts.
It's a beautiful, beautiful book. I am lucky that it was published in my lifetime. I am lucky to have read it.
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