Insightful, lyrical…Little and Often proves to be a rich tale of self-discovery and reconciliation. Resonating with Robert Pirsig’s classic Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, it is a profound father-and-son odyssey that discovers the importance of the beauty of imperfection and small triumphs that make extraordinary happen.” — USA Today (four stars)
“The woodworking is rich and beyond impressive, but Preszler’s humble soul work is utterly transcendent. Courageous. Genuine. Cathartic. Will restore your faith in forgiveness. Will make you believe in grace.” — Matthew Quick, New York Times bestselling author of The Silver Linings Playbook and The Reason You’re Alive
“An impressive memoir, and a richly rendered tale. I thought (with relish) that I was getting a book about wood and tools, but the canoe built herein is merely the vessel carrying the buoyant narrative about a father and son, a mother and sister, love, hard work, wine, boats and a dog. I may have grown misty at one point.” — Nick Offerman, actor and New York Times bestselling author
"Sometimes a writer goes on a journey in order to write a book. More rarely, a writer writes a book in order to go on a journey. Little and Often belongs to that latter category of memoir, built from the inside out. In Trent Preszler's hands, we are smoothed, soothed, and made anew as he peels back layer after layer of his grief and loss until there is only love and forgiveness. This is an unforgettable story of a father's final, life-altering gift to his son." — Dani Shapiro, New York Times bestselling author of Inheritance
“Trent Preszler’s beautiful, compelling memoir tells of his struggle that spans a divided country and family alike. The writing is simple and elegant, harkening back to great American writers such as John Williams and Willa Cather. The expanse between South Dakota, New York City, and finally the North Fork of Long Island is enormous for a young gay man struggling with his father’s legacy. It’s a tenderly wrought tale of coming to terms with our past that will resonate no matter who you are.” — Isaac Mizrahi, fashion designer and host of Project Runway
"Woodworking meets bridge-building, and sorrow meets understanding in this impeccably written, loving memoir." — Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
“Little and Often is a beautiful memoir of grief, love, the shattered bond between a father and son, and the resurrection of a broken heart. Trent Preszler tells his story with the same level of art and craftsmanship that he brings to his boat making, and he reminds us of creativity’s power to transform and heal our lives. This is a powerful and deeply moving book. I won’t soon forget it.” — Elizabeth Gilbert
"Masterful. With Little and Often, Trent Preszler gives us not only a memoir of sons and fathers, acceptance and reconciliation, but also a stirring meditation on objects, their memories, and the complexities of inheritance. The prose is crystalline, and Preszler's voice is as sure as the steadiest canoe." — Grant Ginder, author of The People We Hate at the Wedding and Honestly, We Meant Well
“Little and Often is a meditation on spiritual growth, nature’s magic, the love for family, regret, and the redemptive power of craftsmanship. I have the highest regard for Trent’s courage in writing this big and beautiful memoir. It’s a soulful and sometimes gut-wrenching story of the difficult relationships between fathers and sons. This gem couldn’t be more relevant to the times we live in today.” — Kevin O’Connor, host of ‘This Old House’ on PBS
“Ultimately it’s a tale as well crafted as the beautiful canoe.” — Booklist
“Little and Often is filled with joy." — Denver Post
"Sometimes a writer goes on a journey in order to write a book. More rarely, a writer writes a book in order to go on a journey. Little and Often belongs to that latter category of memoir, built from the inside out. In Trent Preszler's hands, we are smoothed, soothed, and made anew as he peels back layer after layer of his grief and loss until there is only love and forgiveness. This is an unforgettable story of a father's final, life-altering gift to his son."
An impressive memoir, and a richly rendered tale. I thought (with relish) that I was getting a book about wood and tools, but the canoe built herein is merely the vessel carrying the buoyant narrative about a father and son, a mother and sister, love, hard work, wine, boats and a dog. I may have grown misty at one point.
The woodworking is rich and beyond impressive, but Preszler’s humble soul work is utterly transcendent. Courageous. Genuine. Cathartic. Will restore your faith in forgiveness. Will make you believe in grace.”
Little and Often is a meditation on spiritual growth, nature’s magic, the love for family, regret, and the redemptive power of craftsmanship. I have the highest regard for Trent’s courage in writing this big and beautiful memoir. It’s a soulful and sometimes gut-wrenching story of the difficult relationships between fathers and sons. This gem couldn’t be more relevant to the times we live in today.
Insightful, lyrical…Little and Often proves to be a rich tale of self-discovery and reconciliation. Resonating with Robert Pirsig’s classic Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, it is a profound father-and-son odyssey that discovers the importance of the beauty of imperfection and small triumphs that make extraordinary happen.
"Masterful. With Little and Often, Trent Preszler gives us not only a memoir of sons and fathers, acceptance and reconciliation, but also a stirring meditation on objects, their memories, and the complexities of inheritance. The prose is crystalline, and Preszler's voice is as sure as the steadiest canoe."
Little and Often is a beautiful memoir of grief, love, the shattered bond between a father and son, and the resurrection of a broken heart. Trent Preszler tells his story with the same level of art and craftsmanship that he brings to his boat making, and he reminds us of creativity’s power to transform and heal our lives. This is a powerful and deeply moving book. I won’t soon forget it.
Trent Preszler’s beautiful, compelling memoir tells of his struggle that spans a divided country and family alike. The writing is simple and elegant, harkening back to great American writers such as John Williams and Willa Cather. The expanse between South Dakota, New York City, and finally the North Fork of Long Island is enormous for a young gay man struggling with his father’s legacy. It’s a tenderly wrought tale of coming to terms with our past that will resonate no matter who you are.
Ultimately it’s a tale as well crafted as the beautiful canoe.
Little and Often is filled with joy."
Little and Often is a meditation on spiritual growth, nature’s magic, the love for family, regret, and the redemptive power of craftsmanship. I have the highest regard for Trent’s courage in writing this big and beautiful memoir. It’s a soulful and sometimes gut-wrenching story of the difficult relationships between fathers and sons. This gem couldn’t be more relevant to the times we live in today.
Ultimately it’s a tale as well crafted as the beautiful canoe.
03/01/2021
The most precious family heirlooms can be everyday items. For debut author Preszler, his father's battered toolbox, full of farming tools and other items, helped him make sense of their relationship. Preszler grew up in rural South Dakota, and his father was a rancher, former rodeo star, and Vietnam vet. The author writes with raw honesty about the closeness he shared with his father as a child, and how they became estranged over the years, moreseo after Preszler's college graduation. The author moved on to run a boutique winery on Long Island. His father battled cancer, probably brought on by Agent Orange exposure. Shortly before he died, he insisted that Preszler take his toolbox. Inspired to build a canoe by the first anniversary of his father's death, Preszler used many of the tools in the toolbox. Life lessons imparted by his father when they were close—an emotional toolbox of sorts—also sustained him during the painstaking work. Alternating details of canoe building with reflections on his past, Preszler finds solace in the art of woodworking. VERDICT A thoughtful and well-written memoir, this book will appeal to readers who have difficult relationships with family and those who find craftwork healing.—Laurie Unger Skinner, Highland Park P.L., IL
★ 2021-02-06
A prodigal son’s homecoming, just in the nick of time.
Preszler left home on a South Dakota ranch as soon as he could, earning a doctorate in plant science and finding work as an oenologist in New York. Things come tumbling down quickly in this fine memoir. Summoned to his remote hometown—so remote, as measured by geographers, that it boasts the greatest distance from a McDonald’s in the continental U.S.—to attend to a rough-edged father, a former rodeo star, who was dying of cancer, he found surprising moments of reconciliation. His father, to his astonishment, asked him about his boyfriend. “I was shocked,” Preszler writes. “In my thirty-seven years, my father had never asked me about a relationship of any kind, with men or women, romantic or platonic.” When the author expressed further shock at this gesture of sympathy, his father gently replied, “If my son is hurtin’ I oughta know.” After his father died, Preszler inherited a toolbox full of implements he didn’t know how to use. Seeking simplicity, he emptied his house of all its “materialistic clutter.” “The only things of sentimental value I saved,” he writes, “were my father’s toolbox, the taxidermied duck, and some old family photo albums.” In the place of the former furnishings came sawhorses and piles of lumber. Working with each tool in its place and learning as he went along, he handcrafted a canoe. Childhood pains, the romantic heartbreaks of early adulthood, the devastation of forested places due to climate change: All come under scrutiny as Preszler movingly chronicles his single-minded pursuit to build something that “contained every scrap of love that I had ever lost or found.” Thanks to his labors and self-education, the author not only found reconciliation with the past, but also emerged as a fine boatbuilder whose work is prized by collectors today.
Woodworking meets bridge-building, and sorrow meets understanding in this impeccably written, loving memoir.