For my graduate level composition class we have required reading and must journal twice a week about whatever is on our minds. This started out as a journal entry and then became whatever this is, less a typical book review as much as an analysis of my reaction to Annie Dillard's work.

You know the awful phrase used in so many difficult relationship break-ups: “It’s not you. It’s me”?

That’s what I feel like saying to Annie Dillard about my reaction to two of her books I just read, The Writing Life and Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

Clearly, Dillard is an amazing writer. I’ll be among the first to say that her writing is elegant and she can make sentences do amazing things. There’s good reason she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.

No, the problem here is not with the writer but the reader, namely me. Apparently, judging by my reaction to these books, I need more structure. But I hesitate as I type that sentence because how can I demand structure when also organizing and participating in the Writing Down the Bones fiction exercise that requires one to write for 10 minutes without stopping to edit or add structure?

The bigger problem for me, I think, is the topic choices. I much preferred reading The Writing Life because at least there she is talking about thoughts and actions one does while writing or considering writing. That book I could relate to, most of the time. Sometimes, though, when she would start writing about her fascination with something she sees, such as a bug, I’ll be thinking, “Ok, enough with the bug already. Let’s move on.”

On reflection, especially after reading Pilgrim at Tinker Creek , I realize there is irony in my reaction. This book is all about seeing – I mean noticing every possible little detail – of nature and contemplating it and writing about it. This drove me crazy as a reader because, frankly, if I want to check out nature I’ll go do it myself.