And Then I Am Gone: A Walk with Thoreau tells the story of a New York City man who becomes an Alabama man. Despite his radical migration to simpler living and a late-life marriage to a saint of sorts, his persistent pet anxieties and unanswerable questions follow him. Mathias Freese wants his retreat from the societal “it” to be a brave safari for the self rather than cowardly avoidance, so who better to guide him but Henry David Thoreau, the self-aware philosopher who retreated to Walden Pond “to live deliberately” and cease “the hurry and waste of life”? In this memoir, Freese wishes to share how and why he came to Harvest, Alabama (both literally and figuratively), to impart his existential impressions and concerns, and to leave his mark before he is gone.
About the Author
Mathias B. Freese is a writer, teacher, and psychotherapist who has authored six books. His I Truly Lament: Working Through the Holocaust won the Beverly Hills Book Awards and the Reader’s Favorite Book Award, and it was a finalist in the Indie Excellence Book Awards, the Paris Book Festival, and the Amsterdam Book Festival. In 2016 Tesserae: A Memoir of Two Summers, his first memoir, received seven awards.
Title: And Then I Am Gone: A Walk with Thoreau
Author: Mathias B. Freese
Genre: Non-Fiction – Memoir/Biography
Formats: Paperback & eBook
Published by: Wheatmark
Pub. Date: September 21, 2017
Number of pages: 117
Content Warning: N/A
Purchase at: Amazon.com, Amazon.ca, Amazon.co.uk and Barnes&Noble.com
Are they two really different memoirs? I think the same characterological themes surface in both. [Amazing Grace: I was lost and now I am found, was blind and now I see.] In the first memoir I wander, lost, and in the second because of age and reflection and the awakening of intelligence, now I see. The tone of one is scaling personal heights, often desperately, while young and foolish, and the last memoir is the arrival of old age with the wise understanding it was the struggle, Sisyphus at that, that really counted. Read both as complementary bookends. Both books engage in interior self-dialoging; in one I fabricate therapy sessions to distil the disturbances in my life; in the other, I engage Thoreau, who never says a word, to self-engage myself at 77. Some of us wear a cross around our necks, others wear a star of David. I choose to wear a question mark. For me, a memoir is a living written expression of who we are and much more entertaining than a stone in a bleak cemetery.
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