Mathias B. Freese

I’ve enjoyed multiple books by this author, starting with The I Tetralogy in 2005. In spite of my knowing I enjoy his works, I never go into the reading experience with expectations because I prefer to just let go and enjoy the ride. This title, yet again, gets a high rating from me. I love to lose myself in the vivid descriptions, the fascinating thoughts that tease the reader as they meander through the pages, and ultimately the ability he has to provide content that provokes, and triggers introspection and self-awareness. In this title I also enjoyed the words of wisdom he imparts to those looking to write their own books. The book that he claims is already in you. As he quotes in the book (from Wordsworth) “To begin, Begin.” I wish I had the words to truly define what it is that caused me to love this book, but I don’t. I just know that it will never be far from me as I will be dipping into it often.… (mehr)

It will soon be Easter. I thought of this as I went through my TBRs and selected Nina's Memento Mori. This book was gifted to me by Mathias Freese.

Freese dedicated this book to Nina, his wife and muse who died of complications of ALS. He admits he has been a widower twice in his life - a life spent in observation of his own anguish. He wrote while he was in a state of emergence which he associates with the pussy willow - a popular Easter decoration adored by many for its soft silver tufts.

Freese speaks of his existence without his darling Nina and I was absorbed in the supernatural power of his words. The German proverb that says we grow old too soon and smart too late is displayed in his text and might as well be written on my heart.

Those of us who self-analyze often have difficulty putting it all together. Expressing openly, face to face can be difficult. We may feel the need to isolate our imperfections from those we perceive to be more human. Whereas our thoughts in written form are mere words displayed on a page that we know will fade over time.

When we ponder loss- it is often for shared “hobbies” such as watching movies and holding hands under the covers. Thoughts of long walks on the beach at sunset. Sounds of laughter and the touch and warmth that comes with a human connection. Yes! We often long for the things we could have continually shared had we had more time.

Freese tells us he looks at himself as the artifact, the relic, that played a part in Nina’s life. "Old age has settled down upon me like a mantle of fresh snow," he writes.

In turn, I place the cursor over the search engine window and move my fingers across the keyboard. Stroking the alphabet, I type Mathias Freese, and press enter. Nina and he had less than two years together. I move my fingers again - the clicks on the keyboard take longer this time. I nod as no one is watching. The soft coating of hairs of the pussy willow act as an insulation to protect.

It is appropriate, I read this elegy now as it is a reminder of the inevitability of death. As I conclude this review, another author's words come to mind, “Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart.”… (mehr)

I panicked a little when I started to read this: it was instantly evident that the writer is very intelligent, well read, extraordinarily articulate and profound (and I confess I don’t even understand the title). I feared this was going to be rather highbrow; would I ‘get’ it and how on earth was I going to be able to review it when the author is clearly a good deal more astute than I? What we have here is a collection of essays on various topics by a man who was once in therapy, then turned to the profession himself to become a therapist; topics or reflections which are of profound significance to the author either because of his antipathy towards or passion for them. And quite a jamboree: actors, America, his children, his parents, his youth, his pain and personal discontent, Krishnamurti, Kazantzakis, the Holocaust, Jews, Jefferson…

I have to be honest and confess that I haven’t heard of Krishnamurti and Kazantzakis, nor am I particularly motivated to research them, so references to them did go over my head just a tad. The author, however, is clearly an adherent. Nevertheless, I found Freese’s writing fascinating and awe-worthy. What I found a little strange, however, was that he describes himself as a ‘private person’, but I thought the essays were quite soul-baring, which perpetuated a mystery through the whole reading experience: for whom was he writing, himself or the reader?

This is a book to be reread: there is a quality and depth to the writing which can’t be grasped instantly (but that may be my own inadequacy, of course). It is also one that can be ‘dipped’ into at intervals. I still haven’t been able to get it out of my head, and therefore, the author may be able to shout ‘Success!’.
… (mehr)