Through Painted Deserts (Donald Miller).

Through Painted Deserts is quite possibly my favorite book of all time. Donald Miller is an incredible writer and this book is definitely his best, in my opinion. It's so good, in fact, that I borrowed the title of the book and named my personal blog after it (giving Miller homage and credit, of course).

Because I love this book so much, I've written about it before, and will be splicing together my current thoughts about the book as well as some old musings I've previously shared on other blogs or writing forums.

So where to start? Let's try the beginning. In the fall of 2005, I went to the college group at Bel Air Presbyterian Church to see Miller do a book reading. He was highlighting passages from his newest release, a memoir titled Through Painted Deserts. Though he only read bits and pieces from the foreword, I knew instantly that I had found my new favorite book. Miller's candid style of writing is so appealing to me. I always find myself able to relate to the things he writes. His ideas challenge me; his words inspire me. I don't ever feel as though Miller is preaching to me; instead, his words read like advice from a wise, trusted friend.

The memoir chronicles Miller's roadtrip from Texas to Oregon. The adventure was entirely unplanned; the only guarantees were that Miller and his driving companion, a new friend named Paul Harris, would begin in Houston and end up in Portland. Miller is able to sum up the content of the book eloquently in his own words: "What you will find in Through Painted Deserts is the beginning of a long trail of walking away from home, from religion and from an American version of Christianity." To give any more details of the story would be akin to giving away the ending of a great film or taking the last bite of your fabulous molten chocolate cake, so I'll spare you and allow you to bask in my praise for the book, knowing that your life will be forever changed by reading the content found on the memoir's pages.

There is one disclaimer, though, as provided by The Dallas Morning News:

• Warning: Could cause unquenchable wanderlust and a sudden urge to search eBay for a used VW van.
  

Miller's first book, Blue Like Jazz (which we'll get to later), was incredible. Actually, Through Painted Deserts is trumped by the popularity of the national bestseller. I think that's a shame, though, as I've found that I've taken more life lessons from Through Painted Deserts than Blue Like Jazz. Specifically, the following passage has carried me through momentous, life-changing times in my life. Miller's words from the very same foreword he read aloud at Bel Air Pres on that crisp California evening in 2005 resonate with so many events in my life:

• It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you: Leave. Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

One last thing about my favorite read: The book wasn't actually published until five years (give or take) after it was written. Miller originally intended for the book to be called Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance (a spoof on the much more philosophical and serious work, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintence by Robert Pirsig) but the publishers sent it back and asked for a rewrite. It wasn't after his success with Blue Like Jazz that Miller got to give Through Painted Deserts another shot. On his Web site, he wrote, "Through Painted Deserts will always be my favorite book. I think an author always likes his first book the best." Despite his setbacks, Miller knew what he wanted and ensured that his dreams materialized. He got stuck, had to try some different things for awhile and then was able to make his comeback. He left. He wasn't alone. And it was he who has changed.

I think I'll try that, too.