I had to read Teaching a Stone to Talk in high school, and I hated the experience. I guess "hate" is an oversimplification; the book challenged me in a way I hadn't been challenged in school, and I resented Dillard and my teacher for forcing me to struggle through it. As an adult though, reflecting back on the high school reading experience, I really appreciate that my teacher forced us to delve into this version of nature writing, and not the usual suspects.

Now I re-read it regularly, in part because it's rich and complex and difficult and I always take away something new from it, and because it's a very slim book. What I love most about her writing is the way I find myself recalling her imagery in the oddest moments without really being aware of it; I have one distinct image that comes to mind when I think about hotel art, and it's strictly hers (read her first essay on eclipses and you'll know what I'm talking about). Her ability to fuse thoughts on such abstract, lofty concepts as religion and nature with very human, personal details is remarkable and I think it's what separates her writing from so many other essayists.

The Bookhive List is a weekly recommendation of my all-time favorite, must-read books.

Full disclosure: I'm reading Teaching a Stone to Talk for something like the tenth time. It is simultaneously one of the shortest and most complex books I've ever read, which is why I dust it off at least once a year. It started in high school with one of the most frustratingly amusing and difficult reading assignments of all time, which ended with our entire class yelling over each other about weasels and ghosts and Annie Dillard's incomprehensible imagery. Needless to say, this is not, in my opinion, an ideal title for inspiring interest in non-fiction among 17-year-olds.

But that isn't to say I didn't learn to love it eventually, and I enjoy and anticipate the experience of revisiting it every year.