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A Solemn Pleasure: To Imagine, Witness, and Write
“A writer at the height of her powers” (Oprah.com) reflects on a literary life pulled in two from war zone journalism to the writing and teaching of fiction In an essay entitled “Spirit and Vision” Melissa Pritchard poses the “Why write?” Her answer reverberates throughout A Solemn Pleasure , presenting an undeniable case for both the power of language and the nurturing constancy of the writing life. Whether describing the deeply interior imaginative life required to write fiction, searching for the lost legacy of American literature as embodied by Walt Whitman, being embedded with a young female GI in Afghanistan, traveling with Ethiopian tribes, or revealing the heartrending story of her informally adopted son William, a former Sudanese child slave, this is nonfiction vividly engaged with the world. In these fifteen essays, Pritchard shares her passion for writing and storytelling that educates, honors, and inspires. Melissa Pritchard is the author of the novel Palmerino , the short story collection The Odditorium , and the essay collection A Solemn To Imagine, Witness, and Write , among other books. Emeritus Professor of English and Women’s Studies at Arizona State University, she now lives in Columbus, Georgia.
192 pages, Paperback
First published May 12, 2015
13 people are currently reading
234 people want to read
About the author
Melissa Pritchard
28 books76 followersFLIGHT OF THE WILD SWAN, Bellevue Literary Press,
March 2024, RB Media audiobook
- Book Award Finalist: Last Syllable, Longform Literary Journal (winner announced 12/25)
- A Favorite Book of 2024: The Washington Independent Review of Books
- 2025 Georgia Author of the Year Finalist, Literary Fiction
-* Portland Book Review, "The writing is beautiful, stark and luxuriant by turns."
_ New York Times, "Best Historical Fiction"
_ New York Sun, "A standout."
- NPR/GPB's Peter Biello, All Things Considered: "...an amazing book. Just an incredible book."
- Denver Post, "An awe-inspiring story."
_ *Publishers Weekly, starred, Featured Fiction.
_ *Kirkus Review, starred.
_ *Foreword Reviews, starred, "An inspiring novel."
- Atlanta Journal Constitution, "An addictive read..."
_ Historical Novel Society, "Powerful...a significant tribute."
_ LibraryThing Review
_ Booklist, "A compelling human portrait of an extraordinary woman."
_ Historical Novels Review, "Powerful."
- Atlanta Journal Constitution, "An addictive read..."
_ Midwest Book Review, "Exceptional."
_ BookBrowse TOP PICK, "...a tremendously written novel...a story to read, reread, and share with others."
- A "Reading with Arizona PBS selection"
- Southern Literary Review: "Rich and detailed...exceptional!"
AWARDS: 2025 Georgia Author of the Year Finalist, Flannery O'Connor, Carl Sandburg, Janet Kafka, NEA, five Pushcart and O.Henry Prizes, Barnes & Noble Great Writers Award, Carson McCullers Fellow. Fiction, non-fiction in Paris Review, Ecotone, A Public Space, Conjunctions, LitMag, Southern Review, O the Oprah Magazine, Wilson Quarterly, the Nation, Chicago Tribune, NYTBR, others. Frequently anthologized. Fiction editor: IMAGE
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
July 20, 2015
Melissa Pritchard is a marvel. She is a writer of award-winning short stories and novels. This collection of personal essays is a pleasure. Actually not all are personal. The topics have no unified theme--from her dachshund, with background on its origin and what about those short legs, to her close connection with William, a former Sudanese slave, the saddest story ever. The art of writing is a constant theme as she teaches writing at Arizona State. An exploration of many diverse topics.
September 9, 2015
In A Solemn Pleasure, Melissa Pritchard paraphrases a Sufi parable for one of her essays titled “Elephant in the Dark.” To me it captures one of the most compelling thematic arcs of her collection: the slipperiness of art or art’s ‘many-sidedness’:
In many ways, art can be described as this kind of groping around in the dark—a necessary attempt at guessing the higher truths. Pritchard uses this folktale to preface one of the more didactic essays in the collection that discusses fiction writing technique, but to me it also encompasses Pritchard’s larger intent: to argue and show that art is a form of transcendence, that it can bring a little light into a largely banal world, that writing can be “active prayer.” The essays in A Solemn Pleasure might be seen as mere inspirational accounts but they are done remarkably well: they elevate your sense of creative purpose and also teach something practical about that kind of creative living. Pritchard is exhorting us to think grand but stay grounded. To Pritchard, writing isn’t a job or a vocation—it’s tantamount to a kind of divine calling—but one that shouldn’t keep you above the fray or inflate your sense of importance or intensity of your ‘suffering.’ I did roll my eyes at some of the heavy-handed attempts to deify the writing experience (evoking the American Transcendatalists; think Emerson and Thoreau) but looking past these moments there were some gems that were just the right balance of the personal, philosophical rumination, and reportage that I find strikes the right flavor profile of essays I enjoy.
Some noteworthy pieces in A Solemn Pleasure:
- “A Graven Space” (on painter Georgia O’Keefe, “an artist of uncommon and cultivated paradox.” It is an essay where Pritchard argues that we need to demystify the idea of creation: “Many of us stay busy inventing reasons not to create—we complain, while, and will not work because we are terrified of doing so…”; “crank down the pedestal.”)
-“Still God Helps You: Memories of a Sudanese Child Slave (a retelling of Pritchard’s experience meeting and helping 33-year-old William Mawwin, a student in Phoenix, Arizona, a man who survived slavery in Sudan; feels like a straightforward human interest reportage piece and yet Pritchard draws out strong lessons on empathy and importance of the writer-as-witness)
- “Decomposing of Articles of Faith” (more a prose poem than an essay that alternates lines of a prayer with transcendental musings)
- “Time and Biology: On the Threshold of the Sacred” (explores whether writers and artists have a kind of ethical or moral responsibility or whether there is such a thing as art free of a moral or political stance of some kind.)
It’s hard to categorize the kind of writer Pritchard is. Some essayists have that writerly lyrical power that wow you with the sheer force of their writing; others have a strong narrative bent, a knack for drawing you in with their storytelling; others have that journalistic smarts and can weave in the personal with contemporary and historical analysis, drawing from current events and footnotes; others still can be profound just by their navel-gazing self-examination, revealing themselves in ways that reveal the world. What I don’t like are writers who go full-tilt digressive, who think the essay grants them license to verbal-vomit all over the place; some readers like that kind of hazy brushstroke, but I don’t usually or can only tolerate it in very, very good writers (see Rebecca Solnit). To her credit Pritchard’s writing feels tighter than most mainly because most of the essays here are relatively short and focused, either topically or conceptually. That said, Pritchard’s essays don’t jump out for being exemplars of any of these aforementioned styles. But in some way, this made A Solemn Pleasure so delightfully readable. Pritchard wasn’t straining herself like a singer hitting those high notes she has no business hitting (which is what I felt was the main problem with much-hyped Empathy Exams from Leslie Jamison; my review here.) At the same time, there are no standout essays here, no one single piece that truly bowled me over. Overall, pretty solid as a whole. And I will take away the parable about the blind men and the elephant and Pritchard’s wonderful lessons on the writing life.
[Disclaimer: I received an ARC of this book from the publisher for an honest and candid review. This review was originally written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.]
“Some Indians kept an elephant in a dark room. Because it was impossible to see the elephant, those who wanted to know something about this exotic beast had to feel it with their hands. The first person went into the darkness and felt the elephant’s trunk and announced, This creature is like a water pipe. The next person felt the elephants’ ear an asserted, No. It’s like a giant fan. A third person felt the elephant’s leg and declared, That’s not true. This animal resembles a pillar. A fourth person felt the elephant’s back and concluded, Not at all. It’s like a throne. Different points of view produce different opinions. If someone had brought in a candle, they would have all felt like fools.”
In many ways, art can be described as this kind of groping around in the dark—a necessary attempt at guessing the higher truths. Pritchard uses this folktale to preface one of the more didactic essays in the collection that discusses fiction writing technique, but to me it also encompasses Pritchard’s larger intent: to argue and show that art is a form of transcendence, that it can bring a little light into a largely banal world, that writing can be “active prayer.” The essays in A Solemn Pleasure might be seen as mere inspirational accounts but they are done remarkably well: they elevate your sense of creative purpose and also teach something practical about that kind of creative living. Pritchard is exhorting us to think grand but stay grounded. To Pritchard, writing isn’t a job or a vocation—it’s tantamount to a kind of divine calling—but one that shouldn’t keep you above the fray or inflate your sense of importance or intensity of your ‘suffering.’ I did roll my eyes at some of the heavy-handed attempts to deify the writing experience (evoking the American Transcendatalists; think Emerson and Thoreau) but looking past these moments there were some gems that were just the right balance of the personal, philosophical rumination, and reportage that I find strikes the right flavor profile of essays I enjoy.
Some noteworthy pieces in A Solemn Pleasure:
- “A Graven Space” (on painter Georgia O’Keefe, “an artist of uncommon and cultivated paradox.” It is an essay where Pritchard argues that we need to demystify the idea of creation: “Many of us stay busy inventing reasons not to create—we complain, while, and will not work because we are terrified of doing so…”; “crank down the pedestal.”)
-“Still God Helps You: Memories of a Sudanese Child Slave (a retelling of Pritchard’s experience meeting and helping 33-year-old William Mawwin, a student in Phoenix, Arizona, a man who survived slavery in Sudan; feels like a straightforward human interest reportage piece and yet Pritchard draws out strong lessons on empathy and importance of the writer-as-witness)
- “Decomposing of Articles of Faith” (more a prose poem than an essay that alternates lines of a prayer with transcendental musings)
- “Time and Biology: On the Threshold of the Sacred” (explores whether writers and artists have a kind of ethical or moral responsibility or whether there is such a thing as art free of a moral or political stance of some kind.)
It’s hard to categorize the kind of writer Pritchard is. Some essayists have that writerly lyrical power that wow you with the sheer force of their writing; others have a strong narrative bent, a knack for drawing you in with their storytelling; others have that journalistic smarts and can weave in the personal with contemporary and historical analysis, drawing from current events and footnotes; others still can be profound just by their navel-gazing self-examination, revealing themselves in ways that reveal the world. What I don’t like are writers who go full-tilt digressive, who think the essay grants them license to verbal-vomit all over the place; some readers like that kind of hazy brushstroke, but I don’t usually or can only tolerate it in very, very good writers (see Rebecca Solnit). To her credit Pritchard’s writing feels tighter than most mainly because most of the essays here are relatively short and focused, either topically or conceptually. That said, Pritchard’s essays don’t jump out for being exemplars of any of these aforementioned styles. But in some way, this made A Solemn Pleasure so delightfully readable. Pritchard wasn’t straining herself like a singer hitting those high notes she has no business hitting (which is what I felt was the main problem with much-hyped Empathy Exams from Leslie Jamison; my review here.) At the same time, there are no standout essays here, no one single piece that truly bowled me over. Overall, pretty solid as a whole. And I will take away the parable about the blind men and the elephant and Pritchard’s wonderful lessons on the writing life.
[Disclaimer: I received an ARC of this book from the publisher for an honest and candid review. This review was originally written for LibraryThing Early Reviewers.]
November 28, 2015
I found this author and book because of an essay she wrote about Walt Whitman, and the transcendent purpose of writing, which is to witness how our ordinary reality is suffused with spirit. An amazing writer I had never read! If you write or want to, read this book.
August 13, 2015
Melissa Pritchard’s collection of essays A Solemn Pleasure: To Imagine, Witness, and Write is an homage to language, the medium of the writer. It’s different from other writers writing about writing in that she unabashedly engages the spiritual—and not in the hippie dippie way that Natalie Goldberg does in Writing Down the Bones (which I adore)—but in a full-on mysticism kind of way, in a Walt Whitman poet as prophet kind of way. The essay titled “Spirit and Vision” draws heavily from Whitman and nineteenth-century Romantic ideals of the poet creator. Rather than adding anything new to that vision, she simply recycles it. On the one hand, this version of the writer is incredibly inspiring—awaken to the world, speak the Truth, etc. etc. etc. There’s a reason I love going back to Emerson’s essay “Self-Reliance” or Whitman’s “Song of Myself”—to recharge my self-confidence with the power of “I.” On the other hand, as a call for The Great American Author, the poet-God comes out of a masculine tradition and borders on the eye-rolling absurd—writers are expected to be “witnesses to the spirit of their age,” but a witness is detached from the scene. In such a Romantic view, the poet-Genius is above the world and everyone. It’s a position of privilege. And Pritchard’s essays often smack of that armchair privilege.
The essays are autobiographical, a number dealing with the death of her mother, and many taking place in some amazing writing retreat or other: London, Scotland, Africa. She’s an easy target for the unknown, struggling writer to hate. There were definitely inspirational gems and moving stories from this collection. She has tear-jerker essays on a female soldier in Afghanistan and a child slave from Sudan, and she has a hilarious essay on the quirky habits of her dachshund. It was cool reading this book after Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven, which had as part of its mission to affirm the value of the arts. Pritchard’s reiteration of Whitman’s poet reclaims the importance of the Writer to the world, and in this age of dwindling interest in the book, its worth reiterating. Also like Mandel’s novel, Pritchard’s collection features ghosts floating through it. Perhaps I was particularly tuned in to that trope, but Pritchard’s essays were haunted by ghosts, which is probably not surprising given the sharp infusion of spirituality in the pieces. Maybe writers are a haunted people, weighed down by the ghosts of our past, by the unresolved cares of the world around us. We write not to expel the ghosts but to give them a voice, come to terms with them, live with them. The writer who can see into the shadow worlds, tell the stories of ghosts, is the writer who speaks the Truth.
The essays are autobiographical, a number dealing with the death of her mother, and many taking place in some amazing writing retreat or other: London, Scotland, Africa. She’s an easy target for the unknown, struggling writer to hate. There were definitely inspirational gems and moving stories from this collection. She has tear-jerker essays on a female soldier in Afghanistan and a child slave from Sudan, and she has a hilarious essay on the quirky habits of her dachshund. It was cool reading this book after Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven, which had as part of its mission to affirm the value of the arts. Pritchard’s reiteration of Whitman’s poet reclaims the importance of the Writer to the world, and in this age of dwindling interest in the book, its worth reiterating. Also like Mandel’s novel, Pritchard’s collection features ghosts floating through it. Perhaps I was particularly tuned in to that trope, but Pritchard’s essays were haunted by ghosts, which is probably not surprising given the sharp infusion of spirituality in the pieces. Maybe writers are a haunted people, weighed down by the ghosts of our past, by the unresolved cares of the world around us. We write not to expel the ghosts but to give them a voice, come to terms with them, live with them. The writer who can see into the shadow worlds, tell the stories of ghosts, is the writer who speaks the Truth.
April 26, 2015
A Solemn Pleasure is a fantastic book of essays. From a brief stay in London, to the death of the author's mother, and the story of a child slave, each one makes you think. I laughed, was frankly envious of one, and cried at several others. My favorite essay might be Doxology, about the author's Dachshund; though A Room in London is a close second.
One thing I loved about this book is that the writing is up close; personal. I felt less like I was reading a book of essays, and more like I was having a series of long conversations with a friend. Anyone who enjoys reading essays will love this book.
(Full Disclosure: I received a review copy through LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program).
One thing I loved about this book is that the writing is up close; personal. I felt less like I was reading a book of essays, and more like I was having a series of long conversations with a friend. Anyone who enjoys reading essays will love this book.
(Full Disclosure: I received a review copy through LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program).
September 2, 2015
I absolutely loved some of these essays, and couldn't stand others. It's not that they were poorly written, it's just that I didn't care about the subject matter (like the one about the dog--I love dogs but I just didn't care). The one she wrote about the female US soldier and the Sudanese refugee were fantastic and heartbreaking, and the ones she wrote about writing were sharp and insightful.
It was still a weird sort of mish-mash of topics, and I'm not sure why the sub title is "Art of the Essay" because it's not about writing essays at all--Pritchard is a fiction writer. But on the whole, a solid collection, and if you're of the writerly persuasion, worth picking up.
It was still a weird sort of mish-mash of topics, and I'm not sure why the sub title is "Art of the Essay" because it's not about writing essays at all--Pritchard is a fiction writer. But on the whole, a solid collection, and if you're of the writerly persuasion, worth picking up.
August 15, 2015
Melissa Pritchard is an accomplished writer who will dazzle you with these essays. She's all over the map in their scope from dachshunds to death, her knowledge goes deep.
July 25, 2020
Shared as a gift by a writing friend. Reminders reminiscent of Rilke, to live the questions, that writing is a question of thinking, feeling, and taking part in the profound and sacred act of witness. I love the foreword with the anecdote of the bum whose sign says, "Help. I am somebody. Please see me!". Even if the sign had not used those words, they have the power that a writer understands will reach a reader.
In the first essay, A Room in London, she ends with her feet on a small prayer rug from the Middle East.. as a new day, of her own "fraught with the unknown" begins.
I take issue with the verb, "fraught", as it has a negative connotation, which I don't think she intended. If she did, perhaps it is only to face it with "Spirit and Vision", as "saint who understands every moment of life as crisis of choice between little self and divine self" which she develops in the next essay. Epiphytes arrive as metaphor for the next essay, which allows contemplation on what
"hospitable footholds" writers find, if not rooted in ones region.
It is clear she is well-read throughout the book. and has a delightful sense of humor in the essay, "Doxology" , playing with a hymn (hum) of praise to the Dachshund, that "slimmest daschen of slinkdom--" and in 28 shares an alphabet of ways in which to write about her dog.
The title essay, demonstrates a novel way of dealing with death. By now, I am understanding--
this is a book demonstrating, like a series of intricately crafted poems, a rich variety of angles
and sources. Some deal with her experiences as journalist, her informally adopted son, a former Sudanese slave. I turn to the final pages of "Bibliomancy" with the random selection of epigraphancies ... to devour the final reference of bibliophagy... eating not just porridge from Proust,
but trying to digest all that Pritchard prepares, proposes, places as writers palette on the plate.
In the first essay, A Room in London, she ends with her feet on a small prayer rug from the Middle East.. as a new day, of her own "fraught with the unknown" begins.
I take issue with the verb, "fraught", as it has a negative connotation, which I don't think she intended. If she did, perhaps it is only to face it with "Spirit and Vision", as "saint who understands every moment of life as crisis of choice between little self and divine self" which she develops in the next essay. Epiphytes arrive as metaphor for the next essay, which allows contemplation on what
"hospitable footholds" writers find, if not rooted in ones region.
It is clear she is well-read throughout the book. and has a delightful sense of humor in the essay, "Doxology" , playing with a hymn (hum) of praise to the Dachshund, that "slimmest daschen of slinkdom--" and in 28 shares an alphabet of ways in which to write about her dog.
The title essay, demonstrates a novel way of dealing with death. By now, I am understanding--
this is a book demonstrating, like a series of intricately crafted poems, a rich variety of angles
and sources. Some deal with her experiences as journalist, her informally adopted son, a former Sudanese slave. I turn to the final pages of "Bibliomancy" with the random selection of epigraphancies ... to devour the final reference of bibliophagy... eating not just porridge from Proust,
but trying to digest all that Pritchard prepares, proposes, places as writers palette on the plate.
August 6, 2021
From the list of awards this book has won, it should sell itself on that alone! But until reaching out to my contact with Bellevue Literary Press, I had not heard of Pritchard before. I love to write, read, and overall consider myself a nerd in all the best ways! So why had I not heard of this author before? I remain clueless, and also blame my undergrad creative writing professor a bit, sorry Professor Holbrook but it's true!, for not introducing us sooner! I laughed, cried, and had all the feelings and emotions I never expected when first starting this book! Pritchard is someone you all need to know. Someone you all need to read. And if you walk away from this one not wanting to sit down and start writing immediately, well, go back and read it again because you clearly missed the point! Start with Spirit and Vision you will not be sorry, I knew this essay would easily be a favorite when I saw one of my favorite Walt Whitman quotes at the top of the page:
I celebrate myself, I sing myself, And what I assume, you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
-Walt Whitman "Song of Myself" 1855
I celebrate myself, I sing myself, And what I assume, you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
-Walt Whitman "Song of Myself" 1855
February 6, 2019
This is a book for writers. It is beautiful and wise. A Solemn Pleasure is an essay collection published by Bellevue Literary Press. It is the first book published in Bellevue's The Art of Essay series. A must-read for writers and for all who love weiner dogs.
January 1, 2020
These essays were missing something for me
April 5, 2022
i like her compassionate and intelligent view of things. clear, straightforward, and engaging prose. will try her short stories now.
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July 3, 2023Best of all was the 30-page essay about the beauty of Dachshunds, and the shocking “Still, God Helps You.” I’ll be thinking about this for a long time.
May 26, 2022
This was a different type of book about writing. Most of the ones that I've read have talked about HOW to write. This one talked about WHY to write. The author shares a lot of personal stories that have influenced her writing over the years, and it proves that our reason to write is often very subjective. I think Pritchard's story was interesting, but it wasn't entirely the book I was hoping it would be.
May 3, 2023
A very mixed bag of essays.
The reason for my four stars is "Still, God helps you": Memories of a Sudanese Child Slave in which she recounts the terrible story of William-Manyuol Mawein, a thirty something south sudanese refugee who survived over twelve years of slavery in Sudan, escaped from slavery, was crippled in a work accident in which he lost an arm and several fingers of his other hand, and eventually would up in the USA where he lives, works and, at the time the essay was written was completing graduate studies. It is an amazing story of resilience in the face of adversity. Melissa Pritchard tells the story very well, and it is impressive how she grew close to William-Manyuoi even while initially struggling to keep her distance from such an emotionally fraught situation. His life is clearly the more impressive, but her involvement and solidarity are also out of of the ordinary and a clear example of solidarity and empathy.
Another memorable essay is Finding Ashton, built from Prtichard's visit to Afganistan to interview female US soldiers posted there.
Finally, I very much enjoyed From the Deep South to the Desert South: An Epiphyte's Confession, which traces the author's journey to find her own voice and Elephant in the Dark for a very vivid explanation of the importance of choosing the right point of view from which to tell a story, which goes far beyond the trite pertness of the title, in a very illustrative way.
Many of her essays are connected to her experience teaching creative writing or taking part of writers' workshops ( A room in London, The gift of Warwick, Circle of friends) -which are nice in a sentimental way- or the death and cremation of her mother (A solemn pleasure) -which are personal and hard to write about.
There are two essays on literary figures,one on Walt Whitman and his belief in the poet as "an agent of trascendent power", and another, perhaps complementary essay on Georgia O'Keefe arguing against entombing her as a myth and rescueing her as a person.
Some of her essays read like exercises that focus on rather quirky interests (Kasper Hauser, books bound in human skin), which come across as over-researched and in which the details detract rather than contribute to focus.
Some readers will probably like Doxology , Pritchard's essay on her pet dachshunds, which throws together tidbits on the history of the breed, cuteness, literary and personal anecdotes, quotations in verse for a mix which is a little too sacharine for my personal taste.
All in all, an interesting read.
The reason for my four stars is "Still, God helps you": Memories of a Sudanese Child Slave in which she recounts the terrible story of William-Manyuol Mawein, a thirty something south sudanese refugee who survived over twelve years of slavery in Sudan, escaped from slavery, was crippled in a work accident in which he lost an arm and several fingers of his other hand, and eventually would up in the USA where he lives, works and, at the time the essay was written was completing graduate studies. It is an amazing story of resilience in the face of adversity. Melissa Pritchard tells the story very well, and it is impressive how she grew close to William-Manyuoi even while initially struggling to keep her distance from such an emotionally fraught situation. His life is clearly the more impressive, but her involvement and solidarity are also out of of the ordinary and a clear example of solidarity and empathy.
Another memorable essay is Finding Ashton, built from Prtichard's visit to Afganistan to interview female US soldiers posted there.
Finally, I very much enjoyed From the Deep South to the Desert South: An Epiphyte's Confession, which traces the author's journey to find her own voice and Elephant in the Dark for a very vivid explanation of the importance of choosing the right point of view from which to tell a story, which goes far beyond the trite pertness of the title, in a very illustrative way.
Many of her essays are connected to her experience teaching creative writing or taking part of writers' workshops ( A room in London, The gift of Warwick, Circle of friends) -which are nice in a sentimental way- or the death and cremation of her mother (A solemn pleasure) -which are personal and hard to write about.
There are two essays on literary figures,one on Walt Whitman and his belief in the poet as "an agent of trascendent power", and another, perhaps complementary essay on Georgia O'Keefe arguing against entombing her as a myth and rescueing her as a person.
Some of her essays read like exercises that focus on rather quirky interests (Kasper Hauser, books bound in human skin), which come across as over-researched and in which the details detract rather than contribute to focus.
Some readers will probably like Doxology , Pritchard's essay on her pet dachshunds, which throws together tidbits on the history of the breed, cuteness, literary and personal anecdotes, quotations in verse for a mix which is a little too sacharine for my personal taste.
All in all, an interesting read.
Read
March 10, 2016"In her new book, A Solemn Pleasure, Melissa Pritchard notes that “The ancient Latin root for pilgrim is per agrum, one who walks beyond known boundaries,” succinctly comparing a writer to a wandering pilgrim—becoming a witness to her time and a recorder of her age. The literature of testimony, according to the author, should be the writing about pain and the healing of that pain, because the profession of writing is 'a profound vocation of healing.'" - Yang Jing
This book was reviewed in the January 2016 issue of World Literature Today magazine. Read the full review by visiting our website: http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2...
This book was reviewed in the January 2016 issue of World Literature Today magazine. Read the full review by visiting our website: http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/2...
May 26, 2017
Beautiful writing but the essays are all over the map. Not sure if there is a theme here, and that's okay. I can't say I'll remember much of the book, except maybe the chapter about her welcoming young refugees into her home. I'd call this a collection of essays by a writer's writer.
November 8, 2018
A solid collection of essays on the writing life, Daschunds, grief, and sadness. I have read anything by this author before but this is good writing.
(The publisher sent me this book along with a book I won from a LibraryThing Giveaway).
(The publisher sent me this book along with a book I won from a LibraryThing Giveaway).
February 23, 2016
Great collection. Pritchard reveals the humanness in the creative process. A pleasure to read.
March 11, 2016
Not what I was expecting, but I wish it had been.
July 23, 2016
The essay on Whitman and spirit was fantastic!
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April 13, 2017As a fan of Pritchard's writing I was excited for the chance to read this essay collection. And it didn't disappoint! The best part of this book is that it didn't feel like you were reading a collection of disconnected essays- more like you were having an afternoon chat with a friend. Highly recommended!
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April 9, 2019A Solemn Pleasure
Melissa Pritchard
Bellevue Literary Press, 2015
If I were an aspiring writer or a university student contemplating such a path in life I would consider myself extremely fortunate to have Melissa Pritchard as my guide. This collection of fifteen essays covers a lot of ground from facing the solitude of a committed writer, to recognizing one’s culture and finding one’s voice and using that voice to bear witness to the lives of others. In Time and Biology- on the Threshold of the Sacred she visits Camus and Weil who were so conscious of the intent of their words that they were in thrall to the madness of truth. Dozens of other writers and philosophers have their say as well so the conversation becomes both timeless and limitless.
After presenting the how to of writing Pritchard goes on to provide stunning examples of how she learned to be alone, of her interaction with other writers in class and at workshops, of her accepting the steep challenges of journalistic reporting from Europe, Afghanistan, India, and remote African villages along the Omo River in Ethiopia. I was most deeply drawn into her interviews with William Mawwin who was captured and sold into slavery when he was a child of six in a remote village in South Sudan. Her capacity for empathy led her to finance William’s college education in Phoenix where she was a professor of creative writing at Arizona State University.
I will read these essays many times “scudding upon iClouds and bathed in iLight” and remember always her comment that “Each of us is a two footed manuscript, a work in progress. Briefly bound in our own skin, uncataloged, unshelved, we form some seven billion volumes of the world’s living library.”
Jane Zupan
Melissa Pritchard
Bellevue Literary Press, 2015
If I were an aspiring writer or a university student contemplating such a path in life I would consider myself extremely fortunate to have Melissa Pritchard as my guide. This collection of fifteen essays covers a lot of ground from facing the solitude of a committed writer, to recognizing one’s culture and finding one’s voice and using that voice to bear witness to the lives of others. In Time and Biology- on the Threshold of the Sacred she visits Camus and Weil who were so conscious of the intent of their words that they were in thrall to the madness of truth. Dozens of other writers and philosophers have their say as well so the conversation becomes both timeless and limitless.
After presenting the how to of writing Pritchard goes on to provide stunning examples of how she learned to be alone, of her interaction with other writers in class and at workshops, of her accepting the steep challenges of journalistic reporting from Europe, Afghanistan, India, and remote African villages along the Omo River in Ethiopia. I was most deeply drawn into her interviews with William Mawwin who was captured and sold into slavery when he was a child of six in a remote village in South Sudan. Her capacity for empathy led her to finance William’s college education in Phoenix where she was a professor of creative writing at Arizona State University.
I will read these essays many times “scudding upon iClouds and bathed in iLight” and remember always her comment that “Each of us is a two footed manuscript, a work in progress. Briefly bound in our own skin, uncataloged, unshelved, we form some seven billion volumes of the world’s living library.”
Jane Zupan
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