Eiseley Class

Excerpts from Student Journals

The 2001 Honors Class in front of Uncle Buck and Aunt Grace's house at 1910 South 23rd Street in Lincoln, Nebraska. Eiseley spent much time at this house as a child, and he lived here after his father's death in 1928. Left to right: Andy, Maggie Hoppe, Brad Trenkle, Sarah Jacobitz, Brady Hays, Amanda Stahnecker, and Emily. Photo by M.L. Jameson.

"Eiseley was clearly an educated guesser. I like the way he admits that man must first think differently and not see the world as a man-centered universe. Eiseley eludes that this is the next big hurdle that we must psychologically cross. First, we believed we were the center of the universe; now me must admit that we are not the center nor are we even the center of the Earth from an evolutionary standpoint."

--Brad Trenkle on "Little Men and Flying Saucers" (The Immense Journey) (class of 2001)

"Only those with courage dare to survive in constant isolation."

--Allison Hamiel on "The Gold Wheel" (class of 2000)

The 2000 Honors Class in front of "Archie" in the University of Nebraska State Museum (left to right): Josh Bader, Renee Hochstein, Jackie Anderson, Ellen Veomett, Aaron Roberts, Susan Kalicki, Heather Glenboski, Allison Hamiel, Jon Beezley, Clint Eckstein, Laura Vaughn, Jim Cook, Chris Brown, Russ Miller. Photo by M.L. Jameson.

"The other part of Eiseley's writing is that it demands effort on the part of the reader. You must be willing to work, to experience, to think about, and to allow his writing to live and breathe. It's not a stagnant piece of paper with writing on it. I would say, as William Stafford does in Writing the Australian Crawl, that Eiseley's writing demands you to "fall into the page as if into a strange land." It takes effort—the reader must participate and engage in the reading. And not to mention have an open mind."

--Heather Glenboski (class of 2000)

"Modern man lives increasingly in the future and neglects the present" (p. 60). We live for the life we may never experience instead of enjoying the moment. We are so wrapped up in tomorrow and its preparation that we don't truly live. We worry about resumés and looking good on paper, pleasing our parents, getting good gradesÉ all for the benefits they will bring us in the future. We satiate ourselves with the gratification those will bring someday when we arrive at our final desire, and we never arrive."

--Maggie Hoppe on The Night Country (class of 2001)

"I enjoyed Eiseley's philosophy about the vastness of the universe and how pathetic we must be to actually believe that we can organize it into order or explain its mysteries. On page 90 he states: "That's just the way I feel right now, as though the universe were too frighteningly queer to be understtod by minds like ours." Following that he reaffirms "I don't believe in simplicity." How true these statements ring to me. The farther I advance in my education, the less I think I know because my eyes are more open to the magnitude of knowledge man has accumulated. Yet there is still so much to be learned. This irony teases me and as I realize I will (no one will) never know all the answers, Eiseley reminds us that we are just one of many species. To read this work is critical, as I feel we must evaluate our role in the grand design."

--Sarah Jacobitz on "Badlands and the School" (class of 2001)

(Image of Loren Eiseley)

"I guess what I find the most interesting about the article is its unfavorable critique of modern America. "Our strange metabolism has drawn us far away from the world we call natural...we confront the world as alien, as something to be manipulated." I think at some point the connotation of the word "progress" changed. I think (although I could be way off as a result of my situational bias) that human progress use to mean advances in science, medicine, the arts, etc. that improved our quality of life in some tangible way. At some point, however, I think this changed to progress for progress' sake. Now progress doesn't make us (or our lives) any better, it just makes us more withdrawn from nature, less animalistic, more unique on this planet. But I think this is a dangerous road because we are running this road blindly. No collection of organisms (we are still organisms, aren't we?) has ever taken into their own hands the future of their existence as we have in the last 300 years. As a result, I think a careful eye should watch the direction of our progress (this isn't as simple as up or down, it probably is more like a 3, 4, 5, 6-D coordinate system). Who takes this role? I'm not sure... people like Eiseley have tried, or have tried to inspire us to do so."

--Chris Brown (class of 2000)

Each person analyzes the world around himself differently. "On the world island we are all castaways, so that what is seen by one may often be dark or obscure to another." (p. 14)

--Amanda Stahlnecker on "The Slit" (class of 2001)

The 2000 Honors Class in the University of Nebraska State Museum (top to bottom, left to right): Russ Miller, Jon Beezley, Chris Brown, Ellen Veomett, Clint Eckstein, Jackie Anderson, Renee Hochstein, Allison Hamiel, Aaron Roberts, Josh Bader, Heather Glenboski, Susan Kalicki, Laura Vaughn, Jim Cook. Photo by M. L. Jameson.

"This short story was very consistent with the palpitating of my heart. Geologists, like anthropologists study the collision of time. I don't look for rocks. I look for what was, before even the crust under our feet had cooled. Eiseley didn't look for bones, but for simple life unknown. I feel as though Speck, Eiseley, and I all suffer from a condition that has condemned us to seek depth. Modern civilization has no depth to offer. We have many other properties: width, speed, constant motion, force, but no depth. Eiseley wrote about a false sense of contentment, reductionism, natural simplicity. He wrote, "It isn't precisely that nature tricks us. We trick ourselves with our own ingenuity. I don't believe in simplicity." Individuals run for cover, hiding under the thin vale of intelligence."

--Aaron Roberts on "The Badlands and the School" (class of 2000)

"I must point out here that I am not a religious man. I don't hold beliefs in Gods and their stories. But I do believe that there was a purity in me at the time. A purity of thought, and serene demeanor caused by the quiet of the place, the extreme beauty of the physical environment, a total acceptance and submission to my surroundings. Submission to a calm that can only occur at most a handful of times in one's life. This was all perfectly clear to me at the time, I was consciously aware of the unseen power my mind and body had walked into on top of that mountain. And as I strolled slowly hypnotized through the monastery, admiring the art of the place, the routine of those who held it sacred for different reasons than I, and the meticulous care and precision taken to preserve it, I felt a strong bond with them. This power which surrounded me had created this place, had worshipped it, had kept it safe and soundless, and had done it through the minds and hearts of my fellow man. Whether it was man who created this power or the power which had created man all seemed trivial, the end consequence was all that truly mattered."

--Russ Miller (class of 2000)

"Eiseley interprets this great poet [Shakespeare] as saying that man forms his future; we shape who we become. ...Eiseley warns that we know what we need to do (avoid the darkness), but we just won't do it. Similar to The Immense Journey, he is implying hat we should not seek out the mystery of our creation because it will be devastating for us to know. Still, we do it (go into the darkness)! It is our nature. We know that creating our future will lead to our destruction, but we choose to do it anyway."

--Brad Trenkle on "Instruments of Darkness" (The Night Country) (class of 2001)

"This is a good explanation of some of the hidden implications of evolution. I think Eiseley is wonderful at pointing these sort of implications out, by taking the socially defined term evolution and stripping away some of the layers of ambiguity so that he can present it back to us. Not only does he scold us for thinking we are the apex of evolution, a superior being, but he helps us to understand that our role to this point of time was one which owes itself to the infinite amount of factors necessary in its past."

--Russ Miller on "Little Men and Flying Saucers" (class of 2000)

"There is a quote in one of the end sections of the book, when Eiseley is examining the black skull. He says, "They had the passion of modern men for the precision of machines and disliked vagueness of any sort." This is true of much of society today. We want instant gratification and we want there to be no doubt. Even on subjects where there should be doubt, we want the definitive answer. I, like Eiseley, am frustrated by this. But at times, I find myself wanting the exact answer. The answer is something secure in a world where little else is secure."

--Brady Hays Hubbard on The Night Country (class of 2001)

"I am completely intrigued by the fact that I can sit here completely secluded under the grass, and no one could see me from more than 20 feet. Even with my bright red shirt and white shoes, I feel as though I possess some camouflage. Maybe I am feeling the quiet confidence other animals feel as they trounce through the prairie."

--Josh Bader on 9-Mile Prairie (class of 2000)

"I usually do not think about the evolution of plants or the magnitude of its importance. While this chapter was not probably as informative or in depth as a text book on the topic would be, I still gained at least a basic understanding of the importance of angiosperm evolution. ...the Eiseley chapter would most definitely not be as dry as a text book would be. It is here that I think Eiseley is at his best. When his writings combine natural history evolutionary facts in a manner that is of high literary quality. Eiseley interlaces the science with powerful imagery and quotes that require contemplation. Published in the late 1950s at a time when evolution was more controversial than today and less taught in schools, I wonder how many people were introduced to the topic via Eiseley? I wonder how many non-scientific people picked up Eiseley for his writing abilities and at the same time received a bit of education."

--Josh Bader on "How Flowers Changed the World" (class of 2000)

"...from a young age [Eiseley] wanted to hide from civilization. He decided he was a fugitive, but to me that seems like an excuse. I am all about accepting responsibility for your actions; to say that his actions and thoughts are because of something he cannot control seems to be placing blame anywhere but on himself. He is hiding from reality. Like the evil that he sees when he walks back into town from his wagon ride, he can never truly escape reality. There is a line between dreams and reality; but like the antelope, he wishes that he could truly escape."

--Brady Hays Hubbard on The Night Country (class of 2001)

(Photo by Jim Cook)

"When I read The Night Country, I feel like I'm in a dream. Things are lucid because the words are there, but I'm taken to someplace that I've never imagined and everything seems skewed...It is interesting how these dream-like visions creep into Eiseley's head and mingle with reality."

--Jackie Anderson on The Night Country (class of 2000)

"[Eiseley's] poems all sort of have a flow to them that reminds me of the wind blowing. . . it is a gentle breeze that encapsulates you. [His poems] just give you a sense of peace and understanding of yourself."

--Amanda Stahlnecker on Eiseley's poetry (class of 2001)

The 1999 Honors Class in front of the allosaur at the University of Nebraska State Museum (left to right): Corey Maley, Aaron Ward, Katie Hanson, Desiree Yates, Jim Kaiser, Sarah Thompson, Jim Cook, Mary Liz Jameson, Dierdre McMurtry, Becky Schlautman, Sara Strongin, Rachel Yung. Photo by R. Yung.

"The Brown Wasps is my favorite essay from this book. It's classic Eiseley with stories mixed with deeper meanings. Eiseley interweaves stories of death and memories in a way that makes you want to cling to his memories."

--Jackie Anderson on "The Brown Wasps" (class of 2000)

"It seems that Eiseley loves topics in which we humans have some sort of control, in which we can step in and change fate, change the nature of how things are going, that we, the star thrower, can make a difference and enliven the struggling, that somehow, as chaos and powerlessness continues to overwhelm us, we can bring about change. We have a say in the miracles that happen around us, and we can breathe life back into despair."

--Maggie Hoppe on "The Star Thrower" (class of 2001)

(Photo by Jim Cook of construction of the Loren Eiseley Memorial Library in Lincoln, NE [Fall 2001])

"Eiseley puts an amazing variety of essays into this book (more amazing then the other Eiseley books I've looked at). The variety of themes (even in a single essay) is startling. He has proven the connection between self, using himself as the primary example, and science. It's a reconciliation of sorts: Eiseley proving himself to be an incredible humanist. He looks at himself, life, nature... And nature is the common ground for him to pull science in, under the umbrella of the Humanities (with much help from Bacon), where, perhaps, it doesn't want to belong."

--Andy Taylor on The Night Country (class of 2001)

"I also like how he describes time (p. 183) as a "human illusion" which is completely true. We created time as a way to understand our world, and look at how much our world is defined by time. It's become this overwhelming beat in our ears that reminds us that we have precious little time left here so spend these next few seconds well. It pressures us more and more."

--Heather Glenboski on "The Bird and the Machine" (class of 2000)

This section has more substance than many books of the Bible (again, just my opinion). Two stories ring loud and clear, both having to do with the birds. The most obvious, the one read to me on the day which Americans will never forget (September 11, 2001), says so much about what I believe the best course of action is… we should learn from the birds! The birds knew the Raven had won the battle, they would never see the nestling again, yet the other birds united in song. America lost many of its own, approximately 5500 estimated at the time of this writing. We can not bring them back. We can not get the Raven. What can we do? Nothing more than the birds did. We can only unite.

--Brad Trenkle on "The Judgement of the Birds" (class of 2001)

"Once again in this essay he seems to transcend time. In Costabel it's like time just stops. And in his hotel bed it's like he can't control the rush of years that's going through his head and you can almost feel that pressure as you're reading."

--Susan Kalicki on "The Star Thrower" (class of 2000)

"I really enjoyed this essay, partly because I could relate to it and partly because it just made me put things into perspective. I read it on a day when I had 1000 things on my mind--Christmas shopping, moving, final projects--seems like I have to do a million things in two weeks. But for some reason, reading the story about Eiseley's encounter with the fox, his "miracle," really calmed me down and made me remember the important moments in life can be easily missed when you get caught up in the clutter."

--Susan Kalicki on "The Innocent Fox" (class of 2000)

"I liked Eiseley's poetry, though for me the poems were more hit-or-miss than his essays. The ones I enjoyed most seemed to jump out at me as describing feelings or experiences similar to my own. I can't say whether I liked his essays or poems better. The poems are great simplified descriptions of some of the deep issues he writes about, but his essays are more like guided journeys that take us to specific destinations."

--Emily Thaden on Eiseley's poetry (class of 2001)

(Photo by Jim Cook)

--Amanda Stahlnecker on Eiseley's poetry (class of 2001)

". . . Eiseley's devotion to nature is so child-like and innocent, but at the same time it is so wise. Some of his acts would be considered crazy when seen with no explanation, but with his views they are more than justified."

--Laura Vaughn on "The Judgement of the Birds" (class of 2000)

"...I can hear his voice, saddened, growing older, and looking at all the newest technology as not nearly as wonderful as the essence of life. It's true--machines have no emotion--no electronic bird would wander the skies and rejoice with such powerful emotion as the female sparrow hawk did when seeing her freed mate."

--Allison Hamiel on "The Bird and the Machine" (class of 2000)

(Photo by Jim Cook)

"...I love softly falling snow in the dark. Odd, that I find this poem so peaceful and happy when the main word is "lonely." Yet, I can't help but think that Eiseley felt the same way I do. It is lonely seeing snowflakes drift about in the light of a streetlamp. But for me, its a peaceful, calm, contented kind of loneliness. It's a loneliness that realizes that loneliness is a part of life; that it's OK; maybe even good."

--Ellen Veomett on "Night Snow" (The Lost Notebooks of Loren Eiseley) (class of 2000)

"Entering the cemeteries is always an interesting experience. Regardless of how loud, obnoxious, and hyper we were before hand, I am always overcome with an awesome feeling when I enter those rusty, squeaky gates, barring the entrance to a time long past. For some strange reason, the whole world seems to instantly quiet and recede into the background. Even the birds and the crickets seem to realize that this place has a sacredness about it that would be disturbed by even the slightest of noises. Without fail, there is always at least one straggly-looking pine tree located somewhere behind the old metal fence that keeps out the passing years. It looks as if it is standing guard over the stones, collecting stories of those who are resting beneath its outstretched arms and those who weave their way through the years of living represented by the dates on those crumbling monuments. I walk up and down the short rows of markers reading, as Eiseley also did, the stones marking the final resting places of people long since forgotten. I find myself wondering who it is that is lying there, how did they finally meet their end, where did they live, did they had a family, the so on. I do not find myself becoming saddened and downhearted by reading all these names. In fact, it kind of makes me feel better, knowing that these people are being remembered, if not for who they were but at least for the fact that they were and that they made an impact in the lives of those around them and those yet to come. I hope that someday, someone whom I will never met and will not know who I am, just might come wondering past my own overgrown gravestone, wondering about my life and what kind of person I was. If they do pass, I hope they let their imagination run wild with thoughts of things that may have been."

--Renee Hochstein (class of 2000)

I enjoyed Eiseley's perspective on great innovators and intellectuals. Instead of emphasizing the accomplishments of people such as Darwin, Emerson, and Freud, he pointed out that these people happened to be in the position to write the book or say the line that would have the huge effect on the general population. Human intellectual progress is a process, and these great thinkers are merely links in the chain. They draw from those who have come before them., but they cannot necessarily see far into the future. They just happened to be links that the general population will forever associate with changing the future."

--Emily Thaden on "Man Against the Universe" in the Star Thrower (class of 2001)

"It should be no surprise that Eiseley is both a poet and a creative non-fiction writer. His prose is lyrical; it is already obvious, after only reading his prose, that he has a lyrical gift."

--Andy Taylor on Eiseley's poetry (class of 2001)

"After reading so many of Eiseley's other essays, I just feel impotent. Well, we're all going to be extinct eventually anyway. What's the point? In The Star Thrower, I feel like Eiseley is telling us that there is a point, there is hope. And, interestingly enough, that hope is the human side of man: his/her emotions, his/her pity, his/her love."

--Ellen Veomett on "The Star Thrower" (class of 2000)

"After reading the essay (The Star Thrower), the part about the trickster is particularly significant in relation to mythology. In Norse beliefs, the trickster is Loki. He is always stirring up trouble between the realms of humans and gods. Yet, he is valued by Odin, king of the Norse gods, because he is trustworthy and gives good council. That is the role of the fool in society, to question and show us the situation from a different angle. As mentioned in our class discussion, most ancient religions seem to have these tricksters, all serving similar purposes."

--Laura Vaughn on "The Star Thrower" (class of 2000)

"For a Christian, science is touching upon hope. It is the study of god's creation—his fingerprints."

--Aaron Roberts on The Immense Journey (class of 2000)

"Life can take so many forms, and each form can change its environment in so many ways. We are just one form, and we are finally starting to decide which changes we have made should have been left to the shadows."

--Laura Vaughn on "The Places Below" (The Night Country) (class of 2000)

As humans, we are such a small part of the whole, microscopic, yet we have such a high need to impact our world and universe. Yet, "the greatest action of man [leaves] no mark in the vast idea" (p. 216). We have this innate need to leave our footprints behind…

--Maggie Hoppe on "Man Against the Universe" in the Star Thrower (class of 2001)

(Image by Michael Forsberg–see www.MichaelForsberg.com)

"[Eiseley] makes his arguments emotional. I think that this is what makes his writing exciting, but also why it tends to be inconsistent. Passion is so powerful that when gripped with it, people say things that they don't necessarily mean, or at least not exactly what they mean."

--Clint Eckstein on "The Last Neanderthal" (class of 2000)