Walden by Thoreau (Review)
Before offering my thoughts on Walden, it strikes me that I may need to apologize first. Throughout my life, I have received numerous endorsements of Thoreau’s seminal work—including from a professor whose influence led me to pursue an English degree. The combination of high expectations coupled with reading Walden in my 40s left me disappointed, and I could not help but wonder what my experience might have been if I had read the book prior to taking on greater responsibilities in life.
At each stage of Walden, I kept thinking about the responsibilities I carry and how they fit with Thoreau’s conclusions. His theme of simplicity and nature are well known and even align with ideals I appreciate to live quietly and uprightly. The ideals are noble and wise, yet I repeatedly had a recurring thought during my reading: “this book was written by a child.”
The book’s quality is excellent and there are numerous points to explore and consider, yet it seemed like the 20-something version of Thoreau who wrote the book would have been good friends with the character of Larry Darrell from W. Somerset Maugham’s The Razor's Edge. With both men, it is far easier to be nonchalant and live a countercultural, bohemian lifestyle when you have financial or familial safeguards and no responsibilities. His reality does not change the value of reading Walden or an exploration of Thoreau’s philosophical points, but I would enjoy an alternate version of the book in which Thoreau had a wife, children, or other responsibilities.
While my opening paragraphs seem hypercritical, I found plenty in Thoreau’s writing worth considering and valuing. As with many books, Waden is one that I would enjoy more as part of a class or book club to share in discussion about each of his chapters. Yet there is one prevailing point where I think Thoreau’s ideals apply to everyone: learn to quietly reflect and observe. Regardless of time, place, or individual responsibilities, this principle seems critical to a well-lived life.
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamont offered this observation:
“One of the things that happens when you give yourself permission to start writing is that you start thinking like a writer. You start seeing everything as material. Sometimes you’ll sit down or go walking and your thoughts will be on one aspect of your work, or one idea you have for a small scene, or a general portrait of one idea you have for a small scene…And then, unbidden, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought or image arrives…They’re often so rich, these unbidden thoughts, so clear that they feel indelible.”
It may have been thinking like what Lamont prescribes that led Thoreau to write an entire chapter on beans. And another on the thick ice of Walden’s Pond in the winter. If you haven’t read Walden, it is easy to scoff at writing a chapter on beans. If you have read Walden, it is also easy to scoff at writing a chapter on beans. But this line from the chapter still resonates today, particularly in a state like Kansas: “We too often take crops for granted. There is no sacred celebration of cultivation these days.” Appreciation for the simple and the profound can only occur when we make intentional time for quiet reflection.
Modern authors provide endless analysis of the Information Age and all its ills. Yet it is Thoreau’s writing from the 1800s that may help cut through this era of constant bustle and distractions. His words offer thoughtful advice on how to live wisely, even amid the clamor. While most people cannot escape to the wilderness for a two-year sabbatical from responsibilities, we can choose daily to find periods of intentional quiet and reflection.
Thoreau timelessly observed that “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” His response was to go into the woods to “live deliberately” and see if he could learn what nature had to teach. He further hoped to avoid the fearful fate of approaching death with the discovery that he had not lived. A life of quiet reflection and discovery is indeed possible, even without an isolated life in the woods, but it takes intentionality on our part to make it happen.
My general approach is to end each day with reading, reflection, and prayer. I find it peaceful to make use of a quiet house to spend time thinking and jotting down my thoughts. I like to go for walks, sometimes with an audiobook, yet often just in the quiet. I like to think about the way things are and the way things should be. But these disciplines are hard in a world with pummeling distractions.
As Huxley observed in Brave New World, “Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery.” With constant entertainment and distractions, it can seem rather basic to live a life of quiet. Yet Thoreau had it right in this point that still resonates nearly 200 years later: “We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us even in our soundest sleep.” Quiet reflection is the critical step to keep ourselves awake.
Despite my critique on the impracticalities of Thoreau’s approach, his conclusions are wise and timely. Living with quiet simplicity may seem just as unrealistic and unpractical as Thoreau’s venture into the woods, but the principles he promoted are just what we need to think and live effectively amid the noise and busyness of this age. Carving out time of solitude and habits to live in a quiet manner are certainly worth the pursuit, and Walden is an excellent reminder to chase after it intentionally.
