Brainard was only in his early 50s when he died, but he published
this masterpiece at 33. Each one of the more than 1,000 entries in
the book begins with ‘I remember,’ followed by seemingly mundane
recollections presented mostly in a line or two. Individually,
these evocative objets trouvés are gorgeous; collectively, they
draw both an unsentimental self-portrait and a sharp picture of
America. But the most wonderful thing about this book is that, as
you sink into its mantra, ‘I remember’ shifts to you, the reader.
This incantation will return to you things you didn’t know you’d
lost.
*The New York Times*
A small but real American classic.
*The New York Times*
Though the book never strains for psychological insight or a
totalizing worldview, its mix of naive wonder and deathbed
reflection feels like its own kind of wisdom.
*Bookforum*
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