The Good Lord Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise

Of all the addictions I have honed over the last 40 years or so, my obsession with people is probably the most potent. I find humans fascinating, and I dedicate much time to exploring what goes on in their minds, what their experiences have taught them and how they relate to the world around them.  Like all compulsions, it can be a risky pastime – not everyone is as keen to share their innermost secrets as I apparently seem to be – but the joy of human connection far outweighs the potential pitfalls.  It was this fixation on the lives of others that led to immense anticipation in picking up The Good Lord Willing and the Creek Don’t Rise, a memoir by Robert W Norris.  A brief glance at the synopsis told me very quickly just how fascinating this man’s life has been and I was not disappointed by the content. This is a great read.

Born and raised in California, it would be hard to conceive of a life more varied and thought-provoking than Norris’s. From a baseball-obsessed youth who would escape to San Francisco whenever he could, to time spent in military prison as a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, much of the author’s life has been spent in spiritual transit, searching for the place that feels like home. There have been periods of extensive travel, both across the States, Europe and further afield, and stints in all sorts of careers from working in oil rig kitchens to teaching English in Japan. Every element of his physical and emotional journey is brought to life by a series of anecdotes that practically fizz off the page with their vitality, and I genuinely felt invested in what happened next. But one of the best things about this memoir – and what makes it stand out from a crowded market – is that it is not just the story of Norris himself adorning these pages.  We are also treated to a series of vignettes from his mother’s life, both as she grew up and in parallel to her son’s spiritual quest, and this adds a different and delightful dimension to the memoir format.  Of all the wonderfully diverse characters that grace these pages, she is the one I would most like to have met.

Norris writes with a clarity and confidence that swept me up early and carried me through to the closing pages.  Whilst I felt some frustration that his earliest travels weren’t documented in greater detail, in many ways the fast pace of those sections simply reflects his emotional transience during those periods, illustrating powerfully the restlessness of his soul. The narrative somehow balances a high level of detail with a linguistic flair that hooks you entirely. If only all memoirs were so engaging.

The downside in reading such a fascinating tale is, however, the realisation that one’s own life is not quite so enthralling in comparison. That being said, I still have time. I feel inspired to travel, meet more people and take more risks. What more could you ask for from a book?