Heather Mize's Reviews > Essays of E.B. White

Essays of E.B. White by E.B. White
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's review
Dec 05, 2011

it was amazing
Read in January, 2012 — I own a copy , read count: 1

The world is far too empty of E.B. Whites. Not just the world of writer's, but the world of gentlemen. He is truly an American icon. He once said that he wanted all his books to reveal only that he loved the world. E.B. White's essays accomplish for me as an adult what Charlotte's Web did for me as a child. In 3rd grade my teacher, Mrs. Bama Macon read The Trumpet of the Swans to me. She wasn't the type of teacher to act out the CO-Ho's of the swan, but she read it elequently, and that book came to life in my imagination. It was one of the first novels I bought my nephew. It's a book I believe belongs on the shelf in every child's room.

EB White lived in a simpler America, and he captured it beautifully. He also captured the transitory feel of changing times. He writes with a melancholy, a simplicity, a style uniquely his own.

His stories are interesting, and funny. His ideaologies stand up today.
I envy the brevity and clarity with which he writes. I suppose he has William Strunk to thank for that, but even the Elements of Style, the Strunk and White can teach his talent. I both adore and idolize E.B. White.

EB White in his essay Letters from the East writes about the changes in the world. He talks about the uncertaintly of 1975. This would have been two years before his beloved wife died. He waxes on about nuclear power plants, the inability to leave door unlocked, energy crisis, gas crisis, the struggle for life in small towns. He ends that essay by saying this: "It is hard to foretell what is going to happen. I know one thing that has happened: the willow by the brook has slipped into her yellow dress, lending, along with the faded pink of the snow fences, a spot of color to the vast gray-and-white world." There are no others like this man who can empathize with the heart of an aching world and still notice the small changes, the spot of color in a tree that we so often overlook today.


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