To be middle-aged and ghosting a scull through the early morning light of a Lake Cayuga dawn: thats where Strauss finds himself, a pilgrim of sorts, searching for a little self-affirmation. But hes also a junkie, rapt in the glow that pervades the ancient craft of rowing. The sport appealed immediately to Strauss (History and Classics/Cornell; co-author, with Josiah Ober, of The Anatomy of Error: American Military Disasters and Their Lessons for Modern Strategists, 1990). It wasnt just that he needed the workout (bookish, he had long preferred the couch to the gym) or that the oars seemed to speak to him of fluid dynamics and Nile oarsmen and red-brick-and-ivy regattas. Rowing also held the promise of testing the athletic competence and resolve of someone who had fumbled painfully as a child. Redemption seemed to lurk in the boat, a wedding of the cerebral and corporeal. Yet this isnt so much the story of a personal quest. Instead, Strauss revels in the sheer beauty of the sport, from the flow state brought on by the rhythm of perfect oar work to the burnished murk of capacious, ever-so-seedy boathouses. The authors enthusiasm is infectious, buoying the heft of his writing and allowing for an extended investigation into stroke mechanics, a complex, balletic suite of movements. Strauss also makes something well worth reading from the curious blending of elite and common that permeates rowing: it was a poor man's gambit in classical Greece, but an aristocratic pursuit in ancient Rome and pharaonic Egypt; it was a favorite sport of the Gilded Age, complete with race fixing and assorted scandals, and yet the sport also found a following in the mining towns of southern Canada. Redemption is a big word. Still, by any measure, Strauss has tapped into something special out there in his scull. He does fine service to his sport in this memoir. --
Copyright ©1999, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
...he tells us in flowing prose how it is to row, to be in a boathouse, to hear a coach, to carry a single on one's head, to have blisters and use bandaids, and to row an erg. He especially tells us how it is to be in his 40s learning a new sport while enduring "a long argument between mind and body," only to find that when his mind finally understood the concept of rowing he was still stuck with a body "that was in no hurry to carry out, when the time came, what the mind had already grasped." --
Lew Cuyler, The Catch: Alden Ocean Shells Newsletter, February 1999Donald Kagan author of
On the Origins of War and the Preservation of Peace Rowing Against the Current is a delightful and inspiring book that makes you want to get into a scull and learn to work those oars, whatever your age. It is a charming account by a warm and witty man of the very special sport he has come to love. --
ReviewHis first session in a boat was awful. He and his fellow novices were out of sync, bumping into each other, hitting each other with oars, wobbling and weaving, shoveling water clumsily.
Still, something about rowing hooked Strauss, and he kept at it.... It had something to do with the Zen-like ecstasy when everything is moving right and the boat seems to fly, as well as the other gifts of rowing: a sense of discipline, mastery, self-control and proportion.....
Strauss describes it all, with grace, humor and eloquence, in Rowing Against the Current, a blessedly nonacademic extended essay that celebrates the lore and romance of rowing while also delivering an implicit pep talk. -- Philadelphia Inquirer, August 4, 1999
Rowing Against the Current: On Learning to Scull at 40 is a little bit history, a little bit instructional and a lot poetry. Barry Strauss, a history professor at Cornell who's determined to overcome his failure as a Little Leaguer, sees a "learn to row" sign and takes the plunge. Strauss makes his sport sound grueling and romantic at the same time, painful and rewarding. He makes me want to get my kayak in the water now. -- USA Today, March 30, 1999
Strauss describes it all, with grace, humor and eloquence, in Rowing Against the Current, a blessedly nonacademic extended essay that celebrates the lore and romance of rowing.... -- Philadelphia Inquirer, August 4, 1999
You'd expect a history and classics professor at Cornell University to write about oh, I don't know the Peloponnesian War?
And true to form, Barry Strauss did. His five previous books carry such titles as . . . "The Anatomy of Error: Ancient Military Disasters and Their Lessons for Modern Strategists." . . . .
But an unexpected love affair at age 40 steered Strauss onto a different plane of story- telling. Energized by bubbling creative juices, he sat down and wrote a book that is part how-to guide, part memoir, and part paean to his unbidden paramour: a small boat.
Cupid struck Strauss not with an arrow, it seems, but an oar. -- Syracuse Herald American, April 25, 1999
a wonderfully open account of learning a brand-new sport as an adult. He [Strauss] is honest and inspiring in his emotions about the pursuit .... -- Chicago Tribune, September 12, 1999
an introspective book that lets the beauty of the sport shine through.
We follow Barry Strauss as the scull turns from a class to a dalliance to an obsession as he learns that being exhausted and well-satisfied are not contradictory terms.
History, philosophy and good writing combine to give readers an inside look at an old sport. -- Everett, Washington Herald, June 24,1999