Rick Bass's little oil book, originally published in 1989, is a good read for those who know something about oil production. But it is dated, very badly, by recent developments in the energy sector. One of his "notes" -- page 19 of the SMU edition -- states "I hate coal." This goes to two pages of nonsense written by someone years ago, like me, that could not have anticipated the significance of coalbed methane.

If you read this book, realise it is from a well-head mentality. This oil genius probably has never spent a day underground or a minute to understand why we must mine coal. Perhaps he could run his word processor off the crude pumped into a generator adjacent to his office. That's a patent I'd like to see.

Oddly enough, I was far from home doing field work in North Georgia when I found Oil Notes in a little bookstore. I am a geologist. However, unlike Rick Bass my job was to look for fresh drinking water, not oil. I found time to read his book between logging boreholes and setting wells. By the time I was finished I (with the book) I had a renewed interest and spirit in my profession and in the environment around me. Rick Bass found a way to express in words, the excitement and passions associated with being a field geologist, environmentalist and a man in love.

Oil Notes is a fantastic book, and Rick Bass is an equally outstanding author. I have since read everyone of his books. He vividly defines his feelings and passions in everything he writes about, be it drilling for oil or studing wolves.

Oil notes struck me not so much as a description of a mans first job and all it entails, but rather a young man beginning his adult life who was open to any and evry new expieriene life through at him. His optimism shown through in that he loved his work and he always felt something better was just around the corner. Underneath it all was also a man coming to grips with how to handle relationships, both personal and professional. He showed his failings as well as his triumhs. To me it is an adult version of a seperate peace. This is a writer that I will read for a long time because as he ages he will describe lifes changes with the same brilliance he has described his lifes beginning.

The idea of "the best of the Oxford American" brings out a lot of expectations. This magazine has been the home for a lot of special writing. This book provides some of those moments. I especially enjoyed the narrative of the small town photographer burdened by the unwelcome insights of his coworkers and the blank misunderstandings of his Disney World roadtripping friends. I think that the criticism by Tony Earley would have made just as good an introduction to this book as did Rick Bragg's more metaphorical observation that this writing is "heavy on the salt."
I would recommend this book for anyone that wants to read about the South as it actually is -- unique, history-addled, and genuinely "salty".

This collection of works--fiction, nonfiction, poetry, reportage--by the biggest names writing in or about the South is a real treasure. For those already familiar with "the New Yorker of the South" it will remind those what have made the magazine so special for so many years, and for those who have not discovered the magazine, BOA will be a great introduction to the best in Southern belles lettres. The book, like the magazine itself, is a little trad and not good on commenting on the lives of blacks, gays/lesbians, and immigrants to the South, but there is much for everyone to enjoy here.

In my humble opinion, Rick Bass is one of the finest writers working today - period. At his best his work shines with insight and speaks so clearly that it's almost painful to hear the truth articulated so accurately. That said, I confess to being a bit disappointed by this book. There are moments of beauty as always. The story of the mountain lion encountered while out hunting with Colter, for example, is classic Bass. Not only does he capture the intensity and danger of the moment, and manage to bring the personality of the lion alive, but he is able to make us laugh at his own thoughts as he struggles to overcome his fear. Really remarkable.

However, Bass is obsessed by the loss of his dog and what that loss has meant to him. He has already written a lovely book on the subject, but apparently it wasn't enough to ease his pain. In trying to tie the animal's death to his work as a writer and activist in this book, you can tell he's stretching it. It's almost as if the offer to write a book about activism was seen as another opportunity to voice his sorrow. Somehow it just doesn't work.

This is not to say that you shouldn't read this book. If nothing else it offers insight into the inner workings of one of our most gifted writers, but expect to struggle with Bass a bit. For once you get the feeling he hasn't gotten it all worked out, that the words he's chosen aren't quite what he meant to say in some places. To me, this is as valuable, and in some ways more meaningful, than reading the fine tuned stuff. It just isn't as satisfying.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about reading this book for me was the reaction I had when I finished. Ordinarily I have a strong feeling of satisfaction when I come to the end of a Bass book. I put it down and mentally tip my hat to a fellow writer. "Well done!" I say. This time however, I had a completely different response. At the end of Brown Dog of the Yak, I felt unsettled and slightly down. Even more unusual was the urge I had to look Bass up, take him by the hand, look him in the eye, and say, "It'll be all right, you'll see."

There is nowadays shortage of true love stories. This is a book about a love. Love of nature and wilderness and a fine dog. As in good love story, there is ecstasy in living with nature and in descriptions of beauty of his country, but there is also suffering and struggle and rage. In the unique blend of keen observations of naturalist and hunter, of ruminations on literary pursuits, and of environmental activism, Bass paints most intricate tapestry on narrative. One of best nature writings. One of the best appeal for preservation of our vanishing wilderness. Let us all hope that somewhere in our government there is a reader who will be touched by grace of this book and be compelled to act.

Rick Bass has written a plea that is at times elegant and at other times shrill. The best writing in the book are the stories of long-time valley residents (both human and animal) trying to exist in a habitat that is shrinking in the hands of indifferent government and corporate stewards. Every 30-40 pages there is the ripe whiff of the holier-than-thou that usually occurs when a gifted writer transplants himself to the West and somehow comes to believe he is the only one who can truly interpret its significance. But this is possibly a quibble based on the prejudices in my head as a longtime Wyoming rancher. In any case, it's good to know that each member of the Congressional delegation received a copy of this book, although it's doubtful that Conrad Burns or Craig Thomas ever cracked the thing.

I bought this book after visiting the Yaak. and loved the wonderful prose and the enormous feeling of the wilderness.

I loved the book, and recommend it highly -- it really focuses on the valuable resources we have but often don't appreciate.

A very well written glimpse of life in a wild valley in northwest Montana. Book is an account of some of author's experiences in the Yaak, but much of book focuses on author's lifelong struggle to fight against the destruction of his home. As other reviewers have noted, this book serves as a powerful motivator for activism in the service of our national forests and against the wasteful, short-sighted strategies of Forest Service timber management. Much of his points can be found in Sierra Club pamphlets (e.g., through the forest service, U.S. taxpayers lose millions of dollars annually to build roads to allow timber companies to clearcut forests, the profits go to stockholders and executives and local economies suffer, etc., etc.) but his prose makes it all seem fresh. I got as mad as the author. However, this book is far from an "eco-rant", it's a moving argument for the importance of a place and community and a call to end the disastrous economic practices of the timber industry. Bass argues for sensible logging that sustains communities.

The Sky, the Stars, the Wilderness is actually three novellas in one book. The first is a somewhat interesting tale that has some suspense combined with Bass' always vivid imagery of the arctic wilds. I found the second story to be a confusing jumble of characters mixed with cumbersome metaphors concerning oil wells and mortality. The third is somewhat better in that it has beautiful imagery and a gentle, simple storyline. The only drawback is that almost absolutely nothing of interest occurs in the whole story. For those readers looking for a work of art translated into words, The Sky, the Stars, the Wilderness will satisfy. If, however, you read a book to see something happen, you will probably be disappointed by this one.

This book is actually three novellas. The 3rd story is The Sky, the Stars, the Wilderness. I read this book years ago, and it remains vivid in my mind. It is one of the top three pieces of nature writing I've ever come across. The characters tell the story of the teeming wildlife on a large Texas ranch in the mid-1900s Texas. When you are through with the story, you will feel a deep kinship with the sense of place the story depicts. It will make you long for it, and long for other places you have come to love.

I can't tell you how much this book amazed and moved me. Rarely is an author able to convey a love, awe and understanding for nature as well as Bass does. Especially difficult is to make the reader feel his love and understanding so keenly and directly, without letting the writing go preachy and soft. Reading these stories was a very emotional experience for me--Bass seemed to tap straight into my animal mind and make simple phrases and descriptions go right to my core. One of the best books I've read in the last few years, and I read a lot. Highly recommended.

I don't know Rick Bass. I have been to a couple of book signings, but I have never really met him. But, if you read these stories you will meet him. Writers rarely let anyone in. The closest is Jim Harrison or Larry Brown. Rick Bass let's you in and then rips out his heart and hands it to you. He does this without pretention or without being self- righteouss. I recommend these stories because there is truth here, and truth sets us free.

Whether he's writing about the changing seasons in Yaak Valley, Montana (WINTER) or his bird dog (COLTER), Rick Bass is one of my favorite nature writers. In this collection of ten fictional pieces, we find his characters crossing a frozen lake beneath the ice ("The Hermit's Story"), feeding fresh bread, "crumb by crumb," to beautiful, big swans ("Swans"), escaping the workaday world on a Texas fishing trip ("The Prisoners"), rescuing a marriage by fighting fires--"As long as the city keeps burning, they can avoid becoming weary and numb"(p. 51)--("The Fireman), making love in the "total blackness" of a cave ("The Cave"), living life "a hundred miles round trip" from "a real town" ("Real Town"), pigging out on pancakes, grits, ham, fried eggs, ribs, bacon, biscuits and gravy in a North Carolina diner ("Eating"), and rescuing a deer that fell through ice ("Two Deer"). All the while, Bass approaches his subjects with his characteristic childlike sense of wonder, and with a true respect for wilderness.

G. Merritt

Rick Bass is a phenomenal nature writer, and though I have not yet read all of his books, The Hermit's Story is my favorite out of the others I have read. Rick Bass writes about simple life, and the influence of the wilds on people who still live with the land, instead of just on it.
In The Hermit's Story, Bass reveals another ten stories that cut straight to the heart, and bring the reader into a new world, one where people love and care for the land they live on, and where the outside world of today's developed society is strange and unforgiving.
As an avid reader of nature writing, and an outdoors lover, I am enticed by Bass's writing, and it inspires me to write, and to spend time in the wild. I could not ask for more out of a book.

As a lover of Rick Bass' nonfiction, I sometimes find myself a little disappointed with his approach to fiction. In some of these stories, the metaphors and symbols Bass attempts to draw are lost on me--either too bizarre or too obscure or too complex. But there are some truly beautiful moments here, particularly in the stories "Antlers" and "Fires." Bass is most successful when his stories are deeply rooted in a place he knows well, and when his plot lines are relatively simple. Both stories mentioned above deal centrally with human relationships: fear and longing. Set in a carefully wrought landscape (in the case of these two stories, northwest Montana), the people and places come alive in a way than few other writers (except maybe Wendell Berry) can emulate. I do recommend this book, but I would more enthusiastically recommend some of Bass' nonfiction, especially "Winter," "The Lost Grizzlies," and "The Book of Yaak." Also, his book of short stories, "Platte River," has some lovely moments. Keep writing, Rick!

The truly orgasmic experience of reading Rick Bass' book has made me rethink my initial take on Cold Mountain - hailed by Mr. Bass himself as the book to end all need to read other books... Bass' work has made me reshape my look at the cosmos and step back in awe. Even the manor in which the book is typeset creates a longing in my soul for an existence in which reading this book provides my sole physical sustenance. I may be too bold in saying that all books be burned save this and perhaps Cold Mountain to keep us all from wasting our time pondering anything else.

10 great short stories that illuminate the breadth at which Bass can write. The different subject matter compliments Bass's other works nicely. If you are a first time reader of Bass, start with Winter: Notes from Montana and then grab this one as a follow up.

This book is good for people who are beginning to play the bass. It goes from the easiest bass lines to the more advanced.

Not much theory in this book, its a book for practicing.

Don't miss Rick Bass's Foreword. Then those who have lived in the East, been transplanted or at least traveled in the Southwest, fallen in love with the ochre and vermillion mix of color as it is beheld in New Mexican light, are those who will love the Georgia O'Keefeness of Alan Cheuse's story. The question of what is fact and what is fiction haunts the reader all the way through. I would remind the reader to accept the story for what it is rather than comparing what seem to be facts to the real life of the famous painter. Cheuse has sensitively captured the various voices of the characters who narrate. A bit slow-going at first, the pace picks up until the reader is pulled into the passion in spite of the seeming objectivity of the narrative style. Having been to the home of Georgia O'Keefe, and having reclaimed my soul that wandered there ahead of my visit, reading the novel was like returning home. I cannot help but wonder how a reader who has not experienced that "light possessed" can appreciate Cheuse's description of the Blue Mesa.

I too read "Into Thin Air" and then read this book. "Seven Summits" is more about the personal achievements and personal dreams of Bass and Wells than about the details of the Everest climb of "Into Thin Air". Even though Bass and Wells were rich guys, they did give up a couple of years of their lives while their personal business futures were far from certain. In other words, I don't think Bass and Wells were a couple of spoiled boys by any means. But they did have the guts (and financial means) to leave their families and risk their lives for a once-in-a-life-time challenge.

In my opinion, the writing style is only so-so (no James Michener here), but it is easy reading.

Frank Wells, the Walt Disney exec, and Dick Bass, a top entrepreneur set out to climb the continent's seven highest summits in a logistical challenge of peak bagging. The writing doesn't really capture the magic of the mountains and envelop you in the high altitude mystique.

The book does have it's moments, like the challenging endurance journey of climbing Aconcagua, and the suspense of if they even climbed the right summit for Mt Vinson in Antarctica. Since it is a book about climbing mountains, it's a worthwhile read, but there are far better mountain climbing books out there..."Into Thin Air" by Krakauer...anything by Heinrich Harrer. Frank Wells died shortly after the book came out from a helicopter accident while heli-skiing. The movie "The Lion King" is a far better and moving tribute to a great man than this book. Skip this book and resist the urge to climb mountains above your head for the sake of peak bagging and go out and get "Into Thin Air" and be caught up in the altitude.

As I read this book, I was struck by the thought that perhaps Frank and Dick had no business going to these mountains to try to climb them. But as I read on, I was caught up in Dick's attitude, willpower and energy. It then struck me just how much he DID deserve to be there, if for no other reason than to support the idea that a dedicated amateur with a true climber's spirit (if not skill) should always have a place on an expedition. I'm sure that there are professional climbers who disagree, but some (like Marty Hoey and Rick Ridgeway) seemed to have felt he belonged. What is also entertaining is that in the years following Dick's achievement, "true" climbers have tried some revisionist history by claiming that some other Pacific Rim peak is the true seventh summit, even though it is in Asia, NOT in Australia (which, if my atlas is correct, is still actually a separate continent). I say give Dick the credit he is due. I know that I would love to meet him, if only to high five him and pat him on the back.