"A memoir for lovers of writing and reading." Kirkus Reviews
“His memoir, written as he was nearing his sixtieth year, traces the delicate, interactive web of creation that links humans and nature, illuminating how vital each small being, each plant, each person is to the whole. In travels across the globe, even to war zones where scenes of the depth of man’s depravity were seared into his soul, Merrill also found the wonder of humanity’s ability to love, to heal, and to connect; the dogwood serves both as a metaphor for this and, in its decline, as an “an augur of our fate” should we fail to honor these connections.” Foreword Reviews
“An arboreal memoir, an autobiographical dendrology: Merrill, like the dogwood seeds and seedlings, roams the planet, appearing or pausing at unexpected moments in history. The migrant trees sink their roots in various foreign soils; the man, though wanderingeven in zones of warremains rooted in the humus of poetry.” Eliot Weinberger
“Christopher Merrill is a national treasure, both as a writer and a global warrior for literature and witness. In a fine career of making exquisite books, Self-Portrait with Dogwood might be his most moving. Beauty rises from every page. Going on my short list of favorite booksI will refer to it and teach it for the rest of my life, like I do with Bashō and Hanshan. A quiet classic.” Luis Alberto Urrea
“How wise of the U.S. State Department to send Christopher Merrill around the globe as a poet-ambassador. I can’t imagine anyone better equipped to represent us to a suffering and turbulent world. His attentive ear and eye, his keen mind, his compassionate heart, his courage and eloquence are all richly displayed in this engrossing book. The stories he tells hereabout woods and waters, poetry and soccer, about literary heroes, an ailing daughter, and a dying friendare suffused by Merrill’s devotion to mercy and beauty, and by his fascination with the ineffable power we call nature.” Scott Russell Sanders, author of Divine Animal
“Christopher Merrill speaks to the essential and too often buried part of us that intuits the relatedness of all things (human beings and nature, love and war, shame and desire) and investigates the way those intersections urge some of us toward metaphor, toward a life dedicated to the making of art. Self-Portrait with Dogwood makes a case for a new type of memoir in which the selfrather than being spotlightedis but one slender thread in an intricate weave that reaches across species, centuries, and time zones. This is an elegant, intelligent, deeply compelling, and necessary book.” Pam Houston, author of Contents May Have Shifted
“How do we attach meaning to human existence? Merrill’s memoir turns to the dogwood tree as talisman, a presence from his childhood through a life richly textured with natural, literary, and cultural history. His artful reflections on friendship, family, poetry, transplanting trees, and global diplomacy show how ‘giving voice to nonhuman perspectives’ may indeed be essential to cultivating our humanity.” Alison Hawthorne Deming, author of Zoologies: On Animals and the Human Spirit
2016-12-04
A poet's memoir finds its form in a tree. As director of the International Writing Program at the University of Iowa, Merrill (The Tree of the Doves: Ceremony, Expedition, War, 2011, etc.) has compiled a long publishing history as a poet, essayist, war correspondent, editor, and translator. Here, he attempts something different: "It seemed to me that an extended meditation on the intersection between personal and natural history might hold interest if for no other reason than to offer a different way of thinking about the tradition of writing memoirs." This may be enough of a reason for those of a literary bent, but the result is a memoir that is less about who the author is and what he has done than how he writes and what he has read. In other words, it's a particularly bookish book, which has its rewards. Merrill begins with a boyhood fort under a dogwood tree and then digresses into a conjuring of the area during the Revolutionary War, in particular the heroism of "Captain Henry Wick's youngest daughter, Tempe (short for Temperance)." Some two centuries later, he writes, "I can still smell the smoke and mold in her house and the log hospital nearby, where so many soldiers died." The author writes of balancing his academic pursuits with work in a nursery and other jobs that brought him close to nature and, eventually, to the point where, in all his travels, "transplanting had become the story of my life." Merrill ends with a quote from his friend and inspiration, W.S. Merwin: "On the last day of the world, I would want to plant a tree." He also mentions marriage and a family, but there is less on them than on dogwoods in their various manifestations—as metaphor, in diplomacy, and as keys to both poetry and spirituality. A brief memoir for lovers of writing and reading in which we learn more about dogwoods than about the author.