From Sanders (Literature/Indiana University; Secrets of the Universe, 1991, etc.): lessons on learning to be at home in a place, in a marriage, and in a house that are textually rich though not startling in their insights. In eight pieces (some of which have previously appeared in The North American Review, The Gettysburg Review, and The American Voice), Sanders examines his preference for fashioning a life that's ``firmly grounded in household and community, in knowledge of place, in awareness of nature, and in contract with that source from which all things arise.'' It's a preference that runs counter to ``our impulse to wander, to pick up and move—mobility is the rule in human history, rootedness the exception.'' The author— who's especially adept at finding the right quote—draws on sources as far-ranging as the Bible, Lao-tzu, Wendell Berry, and, of course, Thoreau to make his case. Home is Bloomington, Indiana, a town set in a landscape ``embraced in the watershed of the Ohio River.'' In ``After the Flood'' and ``The Force of Moving Water,'' Sanders poignantly recalls his childhood in an area that was subsequently submerged when a tributary of the Ohio was dammed, and he discusses the history of the river itself, long a waterway for Native Americans, explorers, and entrepreneurs, as well as a passage for more tonnage than either the Suez or Panama canals. But underlying this affirmation of place is the author's even more sublime and ancient search for our place in the scheme of things—a search that Sanders sensitively describes in ``Earth's Body'' and ``Telling the Holy'' as he recounts his fear of dying—the terrifying ``pit that is the square root of nowhere and nothing''- -and the consolation to be found in a sense of ``primal unity.'' Graceful prose that comfortingly reaffirms the familiar without any shock of the new.