I've been meaning to read a Snyder collection for years, and now I can say I have. I must admit that nothing of his work spoke to me in any way. The straight-forward narrative of a man's life and travels come off as bravado, which is ironic, because Snyder is probably very ego-less in actuality. (He's 91!). I do admire what he does to describe work - hard, physical work - in his poems, however.
On a completely different note, which I may have mentioned before, Snyder's sister Anthea died tragically in an accident, and I exited the freeway to avoid the slowdown what must have been minutes after it happened. I've never, ever forgotten that day, and learning who had died. Here's Snyder's haibun about it, as quoted in Modern Haiku:
For Anthea Corinne Snyder Lowry
1932-2002
She was on the Marin County Grand Jury, heading to a meeting, south of Petaluma on the 101. The pickup ahead of her lost a grassmower off the back. She pulled onto the shoulder, and walked right out into the lane to take it off. That had always been her way. Struck by a speedy car, an instant death.
White egrets standing there
always standing there
there at the crossing
on the Petaluma River
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