Review by Booklist Review
ldquo;Listen up!" "Sounds good!" "I hear ya!" These phrases are common in everyday vernacular, acknowledging the importance of one's auditory faculties. But there is another way of hearing, of listening, of paying attention to sounds. Rosner traces the concept of "third ear listening" to the methodology of Freud protégé Theodor Reik, in which he posits that it is equally as important to be receptive to what isn't said, to what is intuited, or what is received through other senses. The child of multilingual Holocaust survivors, Rosner learned at an early age to interpret silences, to infer the gist of a conversation that was taking place in another language, and how to gauge her response accordingly. Those experiences provided the foundation for a lifetime pursuit of all forms of sensory awareness, from swimming with dolphins in the Caribbean to undergoing tonal core vibration therapy in Mexico. As she recounts science as well as supposition, Rosner's curiosity connects her to scholars and shamans alike. Deeply sourced, devotedly researched, and refreshingly candid, Rosner's searing observations on the various ways this crazy world can be navigated, appreciated, and understood open new avenues for thought and exploration.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
"Dialogue is happening all around us," according to this lyrical blend of memoir and science. Novelist Rosner (Survivor Café), the daughter of German- and Polish-born Holocaust survivors, recounts growing up in a multilingual household in Upstate New York, where her parents' accents marked them as outsiders. Recalling how she and her parents have struggled to listen to each other, Rosner describes how when she was a child, she covered her ears and chanted "English" whenever her mother tried to sing Russian lullabies, and contends that her parents coped with trauma from WWII by yelling at her. Though her mother died suddenly at age 70 before Rosner had a chance to make amends, she suggests that her relationship with her father improved toward the end of his life and offers a poignant account of listening with him to the audiobook of Survivor Café, which Rosner wrote about his experiences at Buchenwald. Interspersed with the personal narrative are passages about sound's role in the natural world; for instance, Rosner explains that humpback whales "compose ever-changing songs to communicate," and that elephants can "talk" by making rumbling noises other elephants detect through their feet. Rosner justifies the unlikely juxtaposition of personal recollections and animal trivia by suggesting that both demonstrate how, in the words of naturalist David G. Haskell, "to listen... is to be open to the vitality and creativity of life." This soothes the soul. (Sept.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A gentle essay on the world's soundscapes, many of which often go unheard. An elephant, writes novelist Rosner, gestates with its feet next to the lining of its mother's womb, receiving information "at infrasonic levels inaccessible to our ears." When it emerges, it listens with its feet as well as its ears. Human babies hear high-frequency sounds much more clearly than do adults, which adults accommodate by heightening their vocal pitch when talking to them, which in turn "makes babies feel safe." And who knew that a baby's babbling might be a "way of processing stress"? Well, babies have plenty to be stressed about, and so too adults, one reason why it's restful to read of Rosner's immersion in a placid sea surrounded by a pod of chattering dolphins. She writes that she first became aware of the meanings of both words and silence in the speech of her multilingual parents, survivors of the Holocaust, who cloaked sensitive discussions in languages inaccessible to their children's ears. "Maybe this prepared me for a life of eavesdropping on the world, listening with all of my senses, reaching toward sources of interconnection," she writes. Without ever losing coherence, her narrative skips around to many topics: on one page she's writing of the linguistic abilities of a beloved dog, which she's convinced could pick out her toys by name, while on another she recalls a culture more revealed by a Cheyenne writer who would not "jump in" to a conversation, but instead waited to be invited to enter it, understanding that, that way, she would be heard. Horse whispering, telephones for calling the dearly departed, the terror of hearing loss in old age, "the holiness of birdsong": This is a book packed with perceptions and revelations. Science and art meet in this eloquent study of the aural world around us. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
