individual sports

To say this book is about rowing is to say that Brian's Song is about football. If you are looking for rowing tips, forget it.

This is a story - a true story - a page-turner that you cannot put down.

What Sara Hall has given us is the story of a journey to self-discovery and freedom. And to say that her writing is "lyrical," is a gross understatement. The rhythm and razor-sharp imagery of her writing is breathtaking. Sometimes it's poetic, sometimes irreverent and funny, sometimes downright scary. Her gifts extend far beyond her world-class ability to row.

I've never rowed and (fortunately) cannot identify with the abusive relationship she found herself mired in. But everything else in the book rang bells for me: the dual-edged sword of motherhood -both fulfilling and sometimes suffocating, feelings of isolation, the need to find kindred spirits, the joys of supportive friendships, the power of self-determination, the exhilaration of pushing yourself to the limits (my limits are far lower than Sara's), and so much more.

Picking up this book is like hearing faint peckings within a slightly wobbly egg and turning your attention to it in fascination and astonishment as you see cracks appear, chips pop out, and finally the miracle of what's inside.

When I finished Drawn to the Rhythm, I was ready to turn right back to page one and start all over again - Sara's writing is that good and that inspiring.

Sara Hall is a strong, loving women with a poetic gift for prose. She is simply lovely to read and uplifting in her descriptions of the journey she undertook to escape a hearbreaking, even dangerous marriage. More stories should have the happy ending of this one--discovery of a passion not personal, from an ugly marriage to a better world for herself and her children. In impeccable and gracious prose she shows the reader how a life can be transformed without once being mean or diminishing to the source of her years of torture. She is a woman of many gifts who finds freedom and triumph in the hard work of becoming a champion athlete. Most women will never row, at least in the kind of boat she races. But too many women have been in the sorry boat of dependency on a man for the family well-being. When the controlling, cruel abuse goes on, hidden from the world by outward good fortune (fine children; enough to eat; freedom to "make it all look good") it is all the more horrible that the perpetrator holds the keys to the store. She and their children won't eat unless he permits it, and while he permits it he is simultaneously laying on strong, negative, dishonest messages. Fortunately Sara Hall has found victory as she acquires skills in another area. Anyone can do it. It doesn't take a boat or a pretty house to make escape and redemption possible, and she tells her story in flowing and gracious prose. Anyone who cares about marriage should have to read this as a prerequisite to saying vows and signing the contract. It's a dread possibility to think of a marriage like this, and a joy to learn that such marriages don't have to be. With enough courage any woman can be her own wonderful self--and a wife and mother too. Ms. Hall deserves gold medals for her achievements against great odds--and for her gracious, beautifully written accounts of her own triumph.

The Rhythm in Sara Hall's book is NOT sculling, as one is led to believe in the reviews. The book is a self-serving account of Ms Hall's priviledged life in which she seeks to blame her dispair in her adult life on incidents of abuse in her preteen years. She ridicules her life as a mother, trivializing the importance of being a presence in her childrens early years. Her life with her husband IS tragic, is it any of our business? She wants us to believe that winning is not what is important to her, yet the bulk of discussion on rowing focused on her accomplishments, placements, and medals. This is one of the worst books I have ever read, a complete disappointment.