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Rating: 
Summary: A book about building a house, sort of
Review: I picked this book up after being attracted to the title and the pen-and-ink sketches of hardware and tools that appear sporadically; it's all very Eric Sloane-ish.But this book is only marginally about tools and wood and carpentry. The short chapters document the building of a house in passing, true, but they also tell the stories of Donald and Eldon, a pair of brothers whose farms neighbored Glynn's; Harlow, who shot cows when he didn't take his medicine; and numerous other local people and places. In passing, you do learn a bit about timber framing, woodworking tools and other construction lore, but it's really the story of Glynn and the town he picked to build his house in. And it's very good. It's
Rating: 
Summary: Not what I'd hoped
Review: The subtitle "The Complusion to Build" was what attracted me to the book after first learning about it in another Chelsea Green publication. I hoped for insightful wisdom about one's motivation to build things out of wood using traditional methods like timberframe. And there are some nice parts about the use of old tools, especially one section where he describes visiting a used tool shop in Maine. But I was dissatisfied with the book because of the constant digressions about the "local yokels." I wasn't interested in reading character studies of a misfit Vet, two junkyard owners, the local Amish families, and assorted others who populate this corner of upstate NY. I was hoping for deeper ruminations about craftsmanship, along the lines of "Grain of Truth: The Ancient Lessons of Craft" by Ross Laird. [That book was better than this one but at the time I didn't like it much either -- see my review about it.] Oh well. At least it was a quick read due to the extremely short chapters.
Rating:
Summary: Not what I'd hoped
Review: The subtitle "The Complusion to Build" was what attracted me to the book after first learning about it in another Chelsea Green publication. I hoped for insightful wisdom about one's motivation to build things out of wood using traditional methods like timberframe. And there are some nice parts about the use of old tools, especially one section where he describes visiting a used tool shop in Maine. But I was dissatisfied with the book because of the constant digressions about the "local yokels." I wasn't interested in reading character studies of a misfit Vet, two junkyard owners, the local Amish families, and assorted others who populate this corner of upstate NY. I was hoping for deeper ruminations about craftsmanship, along the lines of "Grain of Truth: The Ancient Lessons of Craft" by Ross Laird. [That book was better than this one but at the time I didn't like it much either -- see my review about it.] Oh well. At least it was a quick read due to the extremely short chapters.
Rating:
Summary: Much more than housebuilding
Review: This book is every bit as good as all the praise on its back cover, and its additional reviews promise. Thomas Glynn is a clear-headed, self-deprecating, and slyly reverent wise man. Often in this book he seems nearly egoless. It's part of how good and smart he is, and how well he tells his story. This is a seemingly simple but actually multi-layered book, on its surface about the building of a small house that Glynn and his wife planned on "cheap land," that they bought. The land appealed to him despite the fact that he knew "I didn't really want to live on a farm, I wanted to live on the idea of a farm." And he really does build a house, and on a tight budget. He hires helpers, and is part of a little team. "Years ago I realized I wasn't much good at making money. I don't know why it took me so long to realize this." But he knows what it is that he loves, and one of those things is the work of carpentry. Glynn's book is divided into neat, short chapters. Some are almost meditative. He thinks deeply about a lot of things. He writes about himself, and several people and places who in the course of this project become important to him. There's a lot about wood, tools, and building, and somehow it is all very interesting, whether or not you liked Woodshop class. You learn about as much about the characters as you might know had you lived around there for twenty or thirty years. One of Glynn's incredible abilities is that he never tells too much about a person. It works well in this book. Whittled-to-the-bone declarative sentences reveal deep inner lives, complex and layered thinking, real emotion. It's a guide to run-down things, to parts of the northeast US that don't show up in the guidebooks, to persistence, to the value of things that might not have a price tag, or might be had for free if one knows where to look or how to ask - and a meditation, really, on nature, work, creativity, human (and canine, come to think of it) oddness and will. Glynn would seem to be a man who without any self-consciousness is, in fact, in tune with his surroundings and his fellow man - and can teach us a lot about love and acceptance. A great read, I have bought copies to give away, and you definitely do not need an interest in carpentry to enjoy it.
Rating:
Summary: Much more than housebuilding
Review: This book is every bit as good as all the praise on its back cover, and its additional reviews promise. Thomas Glynn is a clear-headed, self-deprecating, and slyly reverent wise man. Often in this book he seems nearly egoless. It's part of how good and smart he is, and how well he tells his story. This is a seemingly simple but actually multi-layered book, on its surface about the building of a small house that Glynn and his wife planned on "cheap land," that they bought. The land appealed to him despite the fact that he knew "I didn't really want to live on a farm, I wanted to live on the idea of a farm." And he really does build a house, and on a tight budget. He hires helpers, and is part of a little team. "Years ago I realized I wasn't much good at making money. I don't know why it took me so long to realize this." But he knows what it is that he loves, and one of those things is the work of carpentry. Glynn's book is divided into neat, short chapters. Some are almost meditative. He thinks deeply about a lot of things. He writes about himself, and several people and places who in the course of this project become important to him. There's a lot about wood, tools, and building, and somehow it is all very interesting, whether or not you liked Woodshop class. You learn about as much about the characters as you might know had you lived around there for twenty or thirty years. One of Glynn's incredible abilities is that he never tells too much about a person. It works well in this book. Whittled-to-the-bone declarative sentences reveal deep inner lives, complex and layered thinking, real emotion. It's a guide to run-down things, to parts of the northeast US that don't show up in the guidebooks, to persistence, to the value of things that might not have a price tag, or might be had for free if one knows where to look or how to ask - and a meditation, really, on nature, work, creativity, human (and canine, come to think of it) oddness and will. Glynn would seem to be a man who without any self-consciousness is, in fact, in tune with his surroundings and his fellow man - and can teach us a lot about love and acceptance. A great read, I have bought copies to give away, and you definitely do not need an interest in carpentry to enjoy it.
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