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Reviews with images
This Book Is A Treasure
Few books I come across manage to convey a profound reverence for nature and life's simple pleasures. In a time when we are racing and grasping for the latest, the fastest, the trendiest, My Journey Begins Where The Road Ends, serves as a vital link to what truly matters—lasting values and relationships, appreciation for our place in the cycle of seasons, a bountiful harvest and the fruits of one’s labors. Thomas Conlan writes with the wisdom of age and the enthusiasm of a barefoot child on a summer day of outdoor exploration. He brings to mind the joy of discovery, the profound satisfaction of self-reliance. No better exemplified than by his recounting of cultivating grapes, picking them, carefully removing each stem before kneading them by hand, to transform a crop into jelly and wine. “But I have never used someone else’s grapes in my wine,” he writes—a testimony to the depth and determination of his characters. The entire book is a trove of thoughtful prose, interspersed poems, and graceful sketches, making for an aesthetically pleasing arrangement. And after some searching, I found the artwork attributable to the author’s wife of forty-four years, Glenda Catherine Conlan. Her addition is sizable to the overall effect of a book which I will surely pass around to my adult children, and wayward friends who have lost contact with the soil, with their imperative ties to Mother Earth.
Top reviews from the United States
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Reviewed in the United States on April 20, 2019
Few books I come across manage to convey a profound reverence for nature and life's simple pleasures. In a time when we are racing and grasping for the latest, the fastest, the trendiest, My Journey Begins Where The Road Ends, serves as a vital link to what truly matters—lasting values and relationships, appreciation for our place in the cycle of seasons, a bountiful harvest and the fruits of one’s labors.
Thomas Conlan writes with the wisdom of age and the enthusiasm of a barefoot child on a summer day of outdoor exploration. He brings to mind the joy of discovery, the profound satisfaction of self-reliance. No better exemplified than by his recounting of cultivating grapes, picking them, carefully removing each stem before kneading them by hand, to transform a crop into jelly and wine.
“But I have never used someone else’s grapes in my wine,” he writes—a testimony to the depth and determination of his characters.
The entire book is a trove of thoughtful prose, interspersed poems, and graceful sketches, making for an aesthetically pleasing arrangement. And after some searching, I found the artwork attributable to the author’s wife of forty-four years, Glenda Catherine Conlan. Her addition is sizable to the overall effect of a book which I will surely pass around to my adult children, and wayward friends who have lost contact with the soil, with their imperative ties to Mother Earth.
Thomas Conlan writes with the wisdom of age and the enthusiasm of a barefoot child on a summer day of outdoor exploration. He brings to mind the joy of discovery, the profound satisfaction of self-reliance. No better exemplified than by his recounting of cultivating grapes, picking them, carefully removing each stem before kneading them by hand, to transform a crop into jelly and wine.
“But I have never used someone else’s grapes in my wine,” he writes—a testimony to the depth and determination of his characters.
The entire book is a trove of thoughtful prose, interspersed poems, and graceful sketches, making for an aesthetically pleasing arrangement. And after some searching, I found the artwork attributable to the author’s wife of forty-four years, Glenda Catherine Conlan. Her addition is sizable to the overall effect of a book which I will surely pass around to my adult children, and wayward friends who have lost contact with the soil, with their imperative ties to Mother Earth.
Images in this review
Reviewed in the United States on June 16, 2020
Reviewed in the United States on September 11, 2021
Reviewed in the United States on July 31, 2017
