Into the Weeds
What Davis has produced, then, is not really a book about making books…but rather one that encourages us to reimagine reading and writing as a continuous back-and-forth ... Offers a host of possibilities—not as a writing manual, but as a reading guide ... Into the Weeds offers less a new way to think than perhaps an old one, pushing back against mechanization and the collapse of context by reframing reading in the most particular and human terms.
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[Davis] does not mention having translated the first three volumes of Leiris’s memoir…which is a bit like Paul McCartney describing John Lennon’s Imagine but declining to mention they were both in The Beatles ... Autumnal in more than one sense ... Into the Weeds is not a confessional book or a diary. The shadow, though, of these ruptures is palpable ... Her care with cadence is there in that excerpt, clauses deftly distributed across beats and ideas ... Her closer is a perfect reading writer’s reading anxiety that doubles as a goal ... In essays like Into the Weeds, she is predictably patient with herself and us and is absolutely good company.
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A recursive meditation on motivation and process ... Intimate revelations, delicately conveyed.
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