Ragged Edge of Silence: Finding Peace in a Noisy World [Hardcover]

My non-fiction preference is for quirky natural histories, so I was initially dismayed to find that The Ragged Edge of Silence spans two genres I never touch: travelogue and self-help. There is just one quirky factoid about silence: that sound waves don't reach us at the same time, so we hear them only sporadically when they are approaching -- hence the ragged edge of silence. (It's true! Try listening for it.) As a metaphor for awareness, it sets the tone of the book: thoughtful, lucid, and well worth thinking about.

John Francis is a man whose actions would strike most of us as either lunatic or visionary. After witnessing an oil spill, he refuses to ride in motorized vehicles (even an ambulance) for over two decades. Not wanting to argue, he is silent for 17 years. Put the two together, and you have one very unusual life story. Carrying little more than his banjo and a notebook, Francis walks through deserts and over mountain ranges, meets interesting people who shape his path in unexpected ways, and racks up several degrees. It's hard not to admire his serenity as he gets through situations that would not only have me talking, but babbling incoherently.

Each chapter ends with an exercise to reinforce the lesson featured in that segment of his story. They range from the relatively simple and quick, like meditating and keeping a journal, to bigger exercises like going on a vision quest. For the most part, they avoid new age mysticism, dogmatism, and any specific religious bias, which is also true of the book as a whole.

Since I'm not a travel reader, I wasn't as interested in the details of Francis's journey so much as what he got out of it. My favorite part in the book was his realization that, before going silent, he had never really listened to other people -- he soon stopped in order to prepare his own response. I know I do the same thing, but I never recognized it until now.

Don't expect a fast-paced read; I never felt compelled to read more than a chapter or two at a time, though I was always happy to pick it up again. Francis writes simply and sincerely, and occasionally beautifully. And if there are parts in which Francis seems to focus a little too much on his accomplishments, I suppose it's in the nature of a memoir.

Even though I am a longtime appreciator of stillness, I still don't think I'm quite the right audience for The Ragged Edge of Silence. But it ended up speaking to me on several levels, and I suspect that whatever your interest in picking up this book -- spirituality, environmentalism, silence, transcontinental pedestrianism -- you'll find something to think about and learn from, too.

Let me be forthright first: This review is subjective as all get-out. "Aren't all book reviews?" you ask? Well, yeah, but especially so here. I ordered John Francis's THE RAGGED EDGE OF SILENCE because I thought it would focus on the beauty of being alone (as opposed to being lonely), the glory of escaping a madding world now and again, the value of finding a spot to meditate in peace and quiet.

This the book is and decidedly isn't. Silence plays a big role, but it is as much John Francis's silence as the world's. Meaning? Francis focuses as much on himself as he does on quiet because this book is about his quixotic vow not to speak for 22 years. This means, when dealing with his fellow man, Francis's life turned into a 22-year-long game of charades, which led me to wonder, what's the point? Is it really "silence" if you're still communicating? And isn't writing a type of speech and communication as well? One seems to undermine the other, in my view.

You see the problem and understand the disclaimer up front, then. Francis took his vow in response to an oil spill and gave up transportation, walking long distances to go places. He stopped talking in response to the oil spill, too. He invests some time in describing the annoyance some people (including his dad) felt when he did this, but then lectures the reader (and his dad, I suppose) on why going mute has value.

The bottom line is this: From chapter to chapter (each ending with an exercise in silence you can do -- though nothing novel -- such as meditation and journaling), Francis discusses his various adventures as odd man out in a talking world, including a one-sided debate with his disappointed dad and a "lecture" to a college class where (he proudly tells us) some of the students gave up speaking for the day in his honor (sigh). Me, I love getting away from it all and finding quiet spots, but giving up talking? It all seems a bit smug and ironically show-offy (in a quiet way, of course, but actions "speak" louder than words, right?). So, subjectively enough, I became distracted by Francis's extreme acts and by what came across as self-righteousness (not to mention material for a book or two).

There. Confession complete. It was me, not Francis. But I write this in case you, too, expected one kind of silence (temporary, focused on nature's version and our ability to maximize appreciation of it), and might be disappointed and distracted by quite another (the biography of a voluntarily mute existence). Mea culpa, as they say.

An oil spill near the Golden Gate Bridge of San Francisco in January of 1971, prompted "The Ragged Edge's" author John Francis, to take a vow of silence, as well as avoiding riding in motorized vehicles for the next 22 years. A vocal and opinionated man, Francis decided to see what he could learn from listening and walking wherever he needed to go. Though his parents were skeptical, and others in his life, disapproving of his plan, Francis persisted, even during times when it seemed as if he'd have no option but to break his own rules.

During this period, Francis goes back to college, eventually earning a Ph.d. He also becomes an apprentice to a boat builder, visits monasteries, crosses the country, connects with family, friends and strangers and communicates his ideas about the environment, plus survives a couple of near death experiences. He keeps a journal in which he writes prose and poetry, as well as paints (and is a talented banjo player, too). He also studies philosophies of such diverse individuals as Maya Angelou, Malcolm X and Thomas Merton, as well as eastern religion and Native American customs. Many who initially dismiss him as "crazy" in his journey, come to admit that his ideas have merit.

This is not a book which ignores our present day reliance on cell phones and other electronic communication forms. The author is not advocating that we do without them altogether, just that we turn them off when we exercise, take a walk or meditate. (Incidentally, while composing this review, I tried to accomplish about half a dozen other things at the same time.) There is very little "preachiness" in this book, but many thought provoking ideas, as well as exercises the reader can do.

"The Ragged Edge," fulfilled my criteria for a five star book. Did reading this make me think about and alter my worldview? Do I think the world would be a better place, if people (such as Congress members) put some of these ideas into practice? And do I plan to put some of these ideas into practice to (hopefully) increase the quality of my own life? Yes, to all three.