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Title: Walden
Author: Henry David Thoreau
First published: 1854
Dates read: 06. 07. – 30. 08. 2021
Category: first time read, own book, nature writing, American literature, non-fiction
Rating: 2/5
The book in five words or less: interesting ideas with terrible execution

My thoughts:

Henry David Thoreau’s Walden is famous for its minimalist, anticapitalist stance, for its appreciation of a life in tune with nature, and for being one of the early examples of nature writing. It is all of these things. However, that does not mean that it is necessarily also an enjoyable book to read.

I should probably preface this review by saying that I came to Walden primarily for its reputation as a classic of nature writing. After reading a lot of Robert Macfarlane and Nan Shepherd and a couple of other authors over the last two years, I thought it was finally time to get to some of the earlier examples of the genre. I am happy to report that I did enjoy the parts of Walden that were mostly centred around natural phenomena. Thoreau spends several chapters (or parts of chapters) describing Walden Pond and the woods surrounding it and he seems to have a strong interest in details: He notes the different species of plants, birds, fish and other animals he observes, chronicles the changing of the pond throughout the seasons, and he speculates about the geological characteristics of the area.

However, while Walden features nature writing of the descriptive kind, it isn’t an actual analysis of humankind’s relationship with nature. These aspects figure into the book, but its main trajectory is argumentative: In Walden, Thoreau tries to develop a particular kind of minimalist, back-to-nature philosophy. The book, then, is as much a political treatise as it is a journal of Thoreau’s stay in the woods. And this is where my issues with Walden lie.

I like to think that my reaction to Walden is a little bit ironic: As it turns out, I do not actually disagree with Thoreau’s central questions, namely whether spending our lives working to afford a lot of things and comforts is always strictly necessary, or whether it would not be better if we curbed our own perceived needs to a level that is more easily sustainable and that leaves us more time to enjoy life. Those are good – and necessary! – questions. What I disagree with are Thoreau’s proposed solution and the way he goes about promoting it.

For one thing, Thoreau’s narrator persona is unbearable. Valid questions notwithstanding, the Henry David Thoreau that speaks in Walden is very smug, likes to emphasise his own cleverness, and often comes across as a bit of a know-it-all. He is also incredibly privileged, something that is obvious every time Thoreau interacts with other people. Your mileage may vary, but for me the fact that he mentions once or twice that his approach isn’t universal and that others should find their own interpretation of it does not balance out the numerous instances of him then going on to tell people how much better their life would be if they only followed his example. This is especially jarring when these interactions happen with those less privileged than him, like in the chapter Baker Farm, where he tries to tell a family of Irish labourers that their newly-acquired comforts and slightly better living standard are mostly superfluous. That is an argumentative position that speaks of immense privilege, coming from a man who was single, had a steady income, and no dependents.

A second aspect of Thoreau’s philosophy that I did not agree with is his overemphasis of self-reliance when his own stay at Walden Pond was by no means self-sufficent at all. In other words, Thoreau consistently plays down the contributions of society to the success of his experiment: his mother and sister doing his laundry and offering him shelter when he doesn’t want to spend the harshest part of winter in his hut, his friends and family loaning him land and tools and feeding him several times a week, all those labourers who produced the consumables he relies on because his own agricultural skills are not sufficent to feed himself on. Yes, he does occasionally mention his visits, and yes he also talks about people coming to visit him at his cabin, but he does not acknowledge how vital these connections are to fulfilling his basic needs of food, company, and shelter.  

To put it differently, if you’ve ever wondered what all those minimalists who propose borrowing instead of owning will do once everyone borrows and no one owns anymore, you will also be wondering about Thoreau’s ‘everyone should live a simple life’ approach. Because really, who will work in trade and import all that rice that Thoreau is so fond of eating if everyone starts living in the woods like he does? Asking questions about overconsumption and capitalist exploitation is fine and necessary, but you cannot promote extreme individualism while constantly and comprehensively benefitting from the labour and resources of the community around you. That’s not just inconsistent, it’s dishonest bordering on exploitative.

To summarise, my critique of Walden is twofold: One, it is – for the most part – just not a very enjoyable book to read, partly because of its author’s narrative persona, and partly because of its somewhat chaotic structure and internal contradictions. And two, I sincerely doubt the feasibility of Thoreau’s solution to the problem of capitalist exploitation, even though I agree with his general premise that it should not be necessary to spend your whole life working without having time to enjoy it. Walden is fascinating as a historical document and as such I can appreciate that it was probably quite radical at the time it was written. However, as is often the case with such documents, especially if they were written by single (white) and quite privileged men, Thoreau’s life at Walden Pond bears very little resemblance to the lives of most of his contemporaries, nor should it serve as a model for the present. In short, Henry David Thoreau’s two-year stay at Walden Pond, as described in Walden, is a very nice experiment with limited applicability.

(If you do decide to read this, though, I recommend picking up an annotated edition; some of Thoreau’s references are rather obscure.)

Read if you like: political treatises, anticapitalism and minimalism, 19th century philosophy and American history, lengthy descriptions of animals and the varying thickness of ice