Walden by Henry David Thoreau - 2021 Book #0

I mentioned in an earlier post that I’m making 2021 my personal year of reading. My resolution is to read at least 50 books this year.

The first book on my list was Walden by Henry David Thoreau. I read it during the last week of 2020, so I won’t count it toward my goal of 50 in 2021. It’ll be book zero. Still, I want to review every book I read, both to cement the lessons I took away from the book and to give other folks ideas of possibly worthwhile reads. 

Here’s my quick review of Walden.

Why you would like Walden

If you love the outdoors, you’ll like Walden. If you’re deeply interested in people expressing their deep interest in things, you’ll like Walden. If you want some philosophy interspersed in some personal journaling, you’ll like Walden.

Why you would not like Walden

If you don’t like reading someone else’s meandering personal thoughts, you might not like Walden. If you don’t like reading sometimes tedious descriptions of various natural elements – ponds, trees, bushes, animals – you might not like Walden. If you don’t like reading a critique of capitalism and technology, you might not like Walden.

Specific passages that captured my attention

I highlighted too many powerful passages in Walden to share here. I’ll pick a few though.

Here’s one from very early in the book. It’s a warning about accumulating possessions, because those possessions can quickly end up steering you in directions you wouldn’t follow if unencumbered:

I see young men, my townsmen, whose misfortune it is to have inherited farms, houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily acquired than got rid of. Better if they had been born in the open pasture and suckled by a wolf, that they might have seen with clearer eyes what field they were called to labor in. Who made them serfs of the soil? Why should they eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt? Why should they begin digging their graves as soon as they are born?

Here’s one of Thoreau’s odes to books and reading. It’s exactly what I wanted for my first steps into my personal year of reading:

No wonder that Alexander carried the Iliad with him on his expeditions in a precious casket. A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips;—not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself. The symbol of an ancient man’s thought becomes a modern man’s speech. Two thousand summers have imparted to the monuments of Grecian literature, as to her marbles, only a maturer golden and autumnal tint, for they have carried their own serene and celestial atmosphere into all lands to protect them against the corrosion of time. Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations. Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and rightfully on the shelves of every cottage. They have no cause of their own to plead, but while they enlighten and sustain the reader his common sense will not refuse them. Their authors are a natural and irresistible aristocracy in every society, and, more than kings or emperors, exert an influence on mankind. When the illiterate and perhaps scornful trader has earned by enterprise and industry his coveted leisure and independence, and is admitted to the circles of wealth and fashion, he turns inevitably at last to those still higher but yet inaccessible circles of intellect and genius, and is sensible only of the imperfection of his culture and the vanity and insufficiency of all his riches, and further proves his good sense by the pains which he takes to secure for his children that intellectual culture whose want he so keenly feels; and thus it is that he becomes the founder of a family.

The passage below also hit close to home. I read it as a sort of critique of social media in particular. We don’t go away and think, and build, and really craft something with care to share. We rush into interaction with each other, reheating the same thoughts and impressions and passing them around, over and over again. It’s a nice argument for taking some time to process and then speak up when you have something useful or novel to say.

Society is commonly too cheap. We meet at very short intervals, not having had time to acquire any new value for each other. We meet at meals three times a day, and give each other a new taste of that old musty cheese that we are. We have had to agree on a certain set of rules, called etiquette and politeness, to make this frequent meeting tolerable and that we need not come to open war. We meet at the post-office, and at the sociable, and about the fireside every night; we live thick and are in each other’s way, and stumble over one another, and I think that we thus lose some respect for one another. Certainly less frequency would suffice for all important and hearty communications.

Finally, this bit near the end of the book resonated deeply with me. It’s one of my main motivations for reading so many books this year – a pursuit of truth, when so much that passes around us today is nothing but noise.

Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitable board.

My overall impression

I got a huge kick out of Walden. I believe I read it at some point in high school. Clearly it didn’t leave much of a mark on me then. But now, being in a completely different station in life, I could not have enjoyed it more.

A group of friends and I talked about doing a three day long backpacking trip in April 2020. The trip got pushed because of the pandemic, but the romantic idea of embedding myself in nature remained. With the outdoors on my mind, it seemed like Walden would be the perfect choice to kick off my year of reading.

Walden gave me exactly what I wanted. It’s the closest thing I can get to being out in nature without physically being out there. It was therapeutic. Consciously I don’t feel too cooped up because of the pandemic, but maybe subconsciously I need some relief.

While I wait for the backpacking trip to come back online, my family and I have explored some of the nearby state parks. We’ve gone on some fun hikes, ridden our bikes, and explored somewhat aimlessly. It’s been a blast. Walden was great motivation to continue our adventures.

Thanks for reading. In the near future, I’ll post a review of Cadillac Desert: The American West and Its Disappearing Water.