My first instinct was to go all critical on this book, noting the rare but distracting technical problems, like missing material, faulty grammar, and misplaced punctuation. But then, I realized that I’d become entirely immersed in the story and the narrative’s consuming authenticity, and that I’d been thoroughly won over by the author’s sincere humility—perhaps the rarest and greatest of all human traits. My most profound realization was that the author—quite generously—was not simply presenting a tale of his sailing adventures, but inviting the reader aboard to share in them. That may be a subtle distinction, but it makes all the difference in the world. Indeed, I can’t recall the last time an author was so solicitous of my reading comfort, encouraging me to slow down and savor quite such an extraordinary journey. 

A man embarks on a solo sailing venture from Argentina to Brazil, a passage that almost guarantees a plethora of challenges and self-confrontations. Indeed, the marketing blurbage on Amazon might mislead one into thinking Slow Sailing is some kind of self-help book or prescriptive outline for living one’s life fully. That is not purposeful misdirection, however, for the reader does absorb that specific message from the contents. But to approach this authentically immersive narrative with such selfishly mercenary expectations, in my mind, does a major injustice to the gloriously calm experience that results from letting oneself be consumed by full present-moment awareness—for both the author and the reader.