Autumn Light: Season of Fire and Farewells

Pico Iyer's "Autumn Light: Season of Fire and Farewells" is both remarkable and unusual. On the one hand, it is a sublime meditation on autumn, Japan's quintessential season of perceived loss, longing, and loneliness. On the other, it is an unflinching autobiography of recent years as Iyer and his wife transition into late middle age at their home in Nara, Japan, and their parents into the debility of advanced age. Binding together these two themes are the parallels between the manner in which the Japanese view the autumn season of the year and of one's life.On a first reading, some transitions in the book can seem abrupt. On pages 13-14, for example, two wonderful paragraphs introducing the cultural importance of autumn in Japan are presented amid a discussion about the death of Iyer's father-in-law. The book's narrative use of brief vignettes with frequently changing foci, when accompanied by the poetic imagery that is a major strength of Iyer's writing, characterize Japan's "zuihitsu" style of writing. This style is linked above all but not exclusively to diaries written by court ladies in the ancient Nara and Heian periods, and its use by Iyer reflects how much his 30-years-plus residence in Japan has influenced him.

Many writers who yearned to roam the world in our youths were inspired by Pico Iyer's "Video Nights in Kathmandu" and "The Lady and the Monk." The renowned travel journalist Iyer was living our dream job, and we read his work with envy and admiration. A generation later, we still can dream after reading "Autumn Light: Season of Fire and Farewells," a memoir and coda that bring his brilliant career full circle."Autumn Light" is a moving elegy on the passage of time and the passing of loved ones, including Iyer's Japanese father-in-law. Iyer's wife, Hiroko, calls this book a "little no-action movie" with "nothing happening," but that is only partly true. Based in Japan, this memoir doesn't follow the usual narrative arc. Nor are there crimes, disasters, or superheroes. Not even a climax.Instead, the tale unfolds in images, vignettes, and character sketches. Some are lyrical and poetic, others journalistic and novelistic. All build on Iyer's pilgrimage of sorts in the fall of his life. For reflective readers, Iyer's Basho-like moments of clarity, his powers of observation and description, his cultural insights into his family and life, are more compelling than any formulaic drama.This book especially will move readers at the cusp of their next lives. Coincidentally, last October I visited Japan to see the temples and parks in Kyoto and Nara that Iyer writes about in "Autumn Light." If you flee the hordes of tourists, you can meander in these ancient cities on day-long strolls that come close to walking meditations. Japanese call this kind of journey "inochi no sentaku," or a "cleansing of life." Such travel and soul-searching cleanse the mind and spirit.For those who cannot globe-trot Iyer-style to faraway lands, reading "Autumn Light" is the next best thing.

I first bought this book because I love autumn and Pico Iyer's writing. This copy was a gift for friends who had also lived in Japan for a couple of years. This contemplative book summoned powerful, often inexplicable feelings from that most influential time in our lives. As we have grown older, our feelings about the seasons have changed. Pico Iyer stirs powerful memories, reminding us that we are not alone and of the joys of living in that culture.

When I chanced upon Iyer’s The Lady and the Monk some 27 years ago, I read it at least 10 times. His experiences, his voice, they were and still are what I wish I could utter but never so.With this novel, returning to Kyoto and Nara, once again I have been transported by his poetry, involved in his relationships with the world, and unabashedly in love with his prose. I read it way too fast for the story, yearning to know more about his brother in law, if his step daughter would reveal her sadness... if autumn is really a seasons of farewells.I will read this novel again, and again, and again.Thank you!

I adore this writer, and his earlier book, the Lady and the Monk, in particular. He writes so gorgeously and evokes Japan, so brilliantly.The same is true here, of course, but it lacks the energy and romance and wonder of the earlier book. It almost feels as if the author had gone into a dull sadness or fatigue. The sparkle has temporarily gone out of the prose —I’m sure it will be back in another book.As the title might suggest, the autumnal book is overshadowed by aging, death, and dying. Not exactly cheerful subjects, nor are they lightened by joy, family life, or even playing ping pong with friends and neighbors – – which features surprisingly prominently in the book.

A fan of his prose and philosophical insights, I was not so enthralled with the progress of the first 50 pages until I suddenly realized that he has written about his deepest thoughts around mundane happenings within his Japanese family. In an otherwise busy life we lead, reading this book is bound to encourage us to slow our pace and to stop and reflect on the little things he writes about. An eye opener indeed.

the book came promptly. description accurate

His ability to write about difficult life issues, with feelings being revealed like bands of color, took me into my own losses and grief. Those losses have been defining turning points in my life, seeing Pico being accessible for his family and friends during their turning points gave me consolation and hope. Only when I finished the book did I realize that I was calling it August Moon. Both work for me.

Pico Iyer's memoir about his life in Japan is a delight to read and insightful. While in his late twenties , passing through Narita airport , he had taken an instant liking to Japan and in a moment of serendipity ,he decides to chuck his comfortable job in New York and stay on , in Nara , the ancient Japanese town. He now divides his time between Nara and California , where his aged mother lives alone. This book captures , in the lyrical prose we associate with Iyer , the contours of his physical and spiritual life in Japan. The center of his narrative is his wife , Hiroko , her immediate family and his own daily life in the friendly suburb where his residence is located in the picturesque town of Nara . Iyer captures unerringly one of the striking aspects of life in Japan - the preoccupation with the celebration of various festivals , in which he joins wholeheartedly. Another amazing aspect of the Japanese people is their polite behavior and capacity to mask extreme emotions like anger and hatred. Of course , there are exceptions , within the family itself , as he discovers that his brother-in-law has cut off all relations with the family , upset by his sister's divorce and remarriage to a foreigner. One great takeaway from the book is Iyer's brilliant descriptions of the change of seasons ( onset of autumn ) and its impact on the scenery and the mood of the people . But the book is also about old age ,disease and dying and how people cope , finding equanimity and joy in the simple pleasures available to them , including vigorous ping pong games at the local gymnasium. There is also the stoic teachings of the Buddhist priests of the local temples , not to forget the Dalai Lama himself , who appears in a few pages on a visit ,spreading sheer cheer and practical wisdom. The book is a celebration of Iyer's love of the Japanese way of life ( ' bounty of this life ' ) which he despairs in being able to convey to others. But , in my reckoning , he has done a masterful job at it in this book.

This is the eighth of Iyer's books on my shelves, and in many ways I think it the best. He has ranged from pure travel writer to novelist, but at his best he muses on the truths of life with wholly endearing sensitivity and charm. Here we observe the autumn of life, brightened with unexpected energy at the ping pong table yet stretched with a range of touching emotional issues. His step-children have morphed into his children, his wife speaks her very own brand of Japenglish, we chat with the Dalai Lama … Iyer invites us into his particular world with disarming openness, yet it all carries a global set of truths. The prose is lucid and easy to read. Highly recommended.

Enchanting meditation on time’s passing reflected in the seasons and tradiational Japanese cultural practices. Life is enriched by immersion in nature’s cycles teaching us lessons to make to most of the one cycle we are given. But the interwoven human story of his family life bridges the abstract with the intimate while the loving portrait of his Japanese wife, the love of his life, is pure joy.

A immensely moving look at death, that is worth the read, though some will find it lacks in any real understanding of Japan

A writer whose travel books I enjoyed very much. This book is sort of a sequel to his book “The Lady and the Monk” that he wrote about 30 years ago when he first went to live in Kyoto and met his wife to be. This is written 30 years later and Pico Iyer has aged and Japan has aged and he now spends half his time in California (with his mother) and half his time in Japan. It’s written after his father in law has just passed away and is about loss and impermanence and autumn in Japan. As usual written beautifully.