Anne Morrow Lindbergh could make literally anything sound profound. A grocery list, a flight log, maybe even a DMV renewal notice. All of it would read like poetry if Anne had her hands on it. And that’s the magic she brings to Listen! The Wind. Her prose is lush and lyrical, the kind that makes you pause mid-sentence and whisper, “wow.”
She doesn’t just write; she orchestrates. Sentences swell and retreat like ocean tides. Even when she’s writing about, say, the lack of a tailwind, it feels like she’s secretly talking about fate and mortality. That’s talent.
What This Book Actually Is
Here’s the quick and dirty: in 1933, Anne and Charles Lindbergh attempted a transatlantic flight from Africa to South America. They did this in a glorified tin can with wings, no GPS, and exactly zero Starbucks stops along the way.
The book covers those harrowing days, where they navigated exhaustion, fuel calculations, and the sheer terror of an endless horizon. On paper, that sounds thrilling. But here’s where the book swerves: instead of “edge-of-your-seat” adventure, what we actually get is… weather reporting.
And Then There Was More Wind
So much wind. So much wind. Whole chapters devoted to it. The wind at dawn. The wind at dusk. The wind’s tricky personality shifts mid-flight. I swear, at one point I started rooting for a hurricane just to shake up the narrative.
Now, to be fair, the wind was the difference between life and death. Every gust, every calm, every sneaky cross-current held their fate. But as a reader? It’s like being cornered at a party by a guy who’s super into barometric pressure and refuses to let you leave until you appreciate the subtlety of a cold front.
Why I Still Finished It
And yet — I kept reading. Not because I was riveted by headwinds, but because Anne’s writing is that good. She could turn a weather delay into an existential reflection on human vulnerability. She captures the bone-deep exhaustion, the eerie intimacy of being trapped in a cockpit with one other human, and the sheer audacity it takes to challenge an ocean in a machine not much bigger than a Honda Civic.
I underlined passages. I admired the artistry. I even felt moved at times. And then, inevitably, I’d mutter, “oh my god, more wind” and keep going.
The One-Time Read
Here’s the bottom line: I’m glad I read it, but I will never read it again. Listen! The Wind is one of those books that’s both a masterpiece and a slog. If you’re obsessed with aviation, this will probably be your Roman Empire. If you’re me, you’ll admire the craftsmanship, tip your hat to Anne, and then quietly shelve it forever.
Final Verdict
⭐️⭐️⭐️ out of 5
- One star for prose so elegant it could make IKEA instructions sound soulful.
- One star for the sheer historical significance of early aviation.
- One star for my own stubborn endurance in finishing it.
- Minus two stars because, honestly, no one needs this much poetic meteorology in their life.
Some books live in your head forever. Some books live in your head just long enough for you to mutter “never again” as you close the cover. Listen! The Wind? For me, it’s the latter.
