The Last Season — book review

The Last Season -- Eric Blehm
The Last Season — Eric Blehm

In my weird way of classifying books I read I have put the following on the same shelf:

John McPhee — Encounters with the Archdruid
Bernd Heinrich — Ravens in Winter
David Laskin — The Children’s Blizzard
Aldo Leopold — A Sand County Almanac
Edward Abbey — several
John Vaillant — The Golden Spruce
Jon Krakauer — Into Thin Air
Diane Ackerman — The Moon By Whale Light
Gretel Ehrlich — The Solace of Open Spaces
Timothy Egan — several
Edwin Way Teale — his four seasons series
Barry Lopez — Arctic Dreams
John Muir — several

David Roberts’ Alone on the Ice and Finding Everett Ruess and Alfred Lansing’s Endurance are, oddly enough, in another room.

Last night I finished Eric Blehm’s The Last Season, a story about a back-country ranger who worked many summers in the High Sierra, only to one day disappear. I added it to my eclectic shelf. Blehm captured the outdoors, the high country and the low; the cold and the hot; forests and water and quiet as well as any of those occupants of that same shelf his book now rests on. In a book about the outdoors, he brought the occupants to life as much as the mountains in which the story takes place. As I read The Last Season I went back, either in memory or by footsteps to the bookshelf, to check, relive, or reread something I had almost forgotten. It is one of the most captivating and pause creating books I have had the pleasure to read in quite a while.

—–Run gently out there—–