Tours of Pleasure

I’m commencing my pilgrimage to Yosemite tomorrow (4:30 am), but I’m taking along a book about another literary shrine, Walden: A History. Thoreau scholar Barksdale Maynard, I trust, will give me needed perspective, through a place I’ve visited over the years, into how a revered landscape can be threatened by its devotees. Plus, reading about the comings-and-goings of 19th century Concord for me is like reading People magazine gossip for normal people.

Someday, I hope to make a pilgrimage to Jane Austen-land, and I’m thinking of her books today too, specifically for a Pride and Prejudice moment of pre-trip euphoria. I hope that each of you has a vacation this summer that you can anticipate as joyfully as Elizabeth Bennet does a proposed “tour of pleasure” with her aunt and uncle.


We have not determined how far it shall carry us,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “but, perhaps, to the Lakes.”
No scheme could have been more agreeable to Elizabeth, and her acceptance of the invitation was most ready and grateful. “Oh, my dear, dear aunt,” she rapturously cried, “what delight! What felicity! You give me fresh life and vigour. Adieu to the disappointment and spleen. What are young men to rocks and mountains? Oh! what hours of transport we shall spend! And when we do return, it shall not be like other travelers, without being able to give one accurate idea of anything. We will know where we have gone—we will recollect what we have seen. Lakes, mountains, and rivers shall not be jumbled together in our imaginations; nor when we attempt to describe any particular scene, will we begin quarreling about its relative situation. Let our first effusions be less insupportable than those of generality of travelers.”

I wonder what books Lizzie took along on her outing? Whatever you choose, happy reading!

Reading, Writing, and other Resolutions

“My Journal should be the record of my love,” wrote Henry David Thoreau on November 16, 1850. “I would write in it only of the things I love, my affection for any aspect of the world, what I love to think of.” Thoreau’s record of his affections (and disaffections) grew to over 2 million words, published in both abbreviated and complete editions since 1906.

The latest version is I to Myself: An Annotated Selection from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau, by the curator of collections at the Thoreau Institute, Jeffrey Cramer. Cramer not only presents a readable selection of Thoreau’s multifarious loves—from friends to fish and from Goethe to the evening sky—but offers commentary to elucidate the historical, cultural, intellectual, and personal context of Thoreau’s text. Cramer’s scholarship deepens the meaning of Thoreau’s entries without weighing them down with too much detail or critical opinion. The result is a balanced and beautifully designed work of value to researchers seeking particular insights into Thoreau’s life and thought or for readers seeking the heady pleasure of immersion in some of the finest prose by any American writer.


Thoreau also wrote, on November 11, 1851, “’Say’s I to myself’ should be the motto of my journal.” If your New Year’s resolutions include undertaking a journal of your own, Cramer’s book offers an inspiring (and perhaps a bit daunting) record of a quarter century’s production. To me, it also offers a starting point for a resolution of a different kind. Given my conviction that books could play a greater role in environmental protection, I’m disappointed when my advocacy efforts sometimes feel like I’m talking to myself. To reach more people, I’m going try writing a few recommendations for favorite works on Amazon.com. I hope it will give me a satisfying outlet for encouraging readers to choose books that have the power to change not only individuals’ lives but society. Whenever I’m not eating better, exercising, or keeping my house cleaner and my family happier, I’ll be working harder in 2008 to advocate for nature writing and the natural environment. Happy New Year!

P.S. Thoreau also wrote, on December 17, 1851, “I do not know but a pine wood is as substantial and as memorable a fact as a friend.” And three days later, “Nothing stands up more free from blame in this world than a pine tree.” How could I not love a book with an index listing 33 entries for pines!

Reynard in the Suburbs

Neighborhood walks have changed considerably since Henry Thoreau sauntered around Concord. He wrote, “I can easily walk, ten, fifteen, twenty, any number of miles, commencing at my own door without going by any house, without crossing a road except where the fox and mink do.” My family lives in a planned suburb, with asphalt walking paths winding through narrow woods between and behind close-packed houses. That’s at least more saunter-friendly than most sidewalk-deprived subdivisions, and we occasionally glimpse a fox crossing the road at night or hear one in the dark distance, a sound Thoreau described as “barking raggedly and demonically like forest dogs.” But we don’t expect to cross any mink or many fox trails on an evening’s stroll.

So imagine our surprise on Saturday’s walk when we spotted not one, but four red foxes cavorting in a nearby field. My husband rushed home for the camera, and for long minutes, we watched the animals play, spar, hunt, and watch us right back. They seemed to be a family of one tolerant, watchful parent and three curious, boisterous, well-grown pups. One pup stalked, pounced, and munched a snack-sized prey, and all three pounced on each other, dashed in and out of sight under thickets on the field’s edge, or just rolled in the grass, enjoying the day’s last sunshine. When my daughter moved slightly closer to take pictures, one pup stopped playing to stare directly at her. He didn’t seem frightened, just intrigued, and he stepped a bit closer for a better view of her, too.

As delightful as the experience was for my family, I couldn’t help but compare our fox encounter with one Thoreau describes in his journal. On January 30, 1841 Thoreau spied a fox in the snow and gave chase, “. . . I tossed my head aloft and bounded away, snuffing the air like a fox hound, and spurring the world and the Humane Society at each bound.” Thoreau felt wild enough himself to sample the fox’s wild existence in a pursuit he admits frightened it. Along the way, his experience of the fox was enriched not just by familiarity with their shared woods but by classical literature enlivening his imagination. He wrote, “It seemed the woods rang with the hunter’s horn, and Diana and all the satyrs joined in the chase.”

In contrast, my family stood still on the asphalt path, loathe to disturb the animals’ small oasis—a field undeveloped only because power lines stretch overhead. Quietly, we agreed the view “was just like watching Nature on t.v.” Once home again, I looked up Thoreau’s description of the fox he chased through the Concord snow and recognized the same animal we spied in Columbia—“He ran as though there was no bone in his back,” and “he took no step which as not beautiful.” In 160 years, the fox hasn’t changed. But we have.

Thoreau-ly Useful

Thoreau-aholics everywhere will be pleased to learn that The Walden Woods Project has just finished scanning all 20 volumes of The Writings of Henry David Thoreau. Walden, The Maine Woods, all the journals, and many other works as published by Houghton Mifflin in 1906 are now available online.

I've already used it. As a nature writer, I often want to know what Thoreau said about a plant, animal, or issue for possible inclusion in an essay or article. Yesterday, I was working on a piece about American ginseng, a woodland herb found in Eastern hardwood forests valued for medical properties by Native Americans and ever since. It sounded like the kind of plant that would attract Thoreau's keen eye, and I was able to quickly search to find what he had to say about it on June 3, 1851. To investigate your own Thoreau-ly fascinating questions, go to your favorite search engine, type in the term or phrase of interest, plus "Thoreau writings1906" (no space between writings and 1906). So cool.

To learn more about The Walden Woods Project's efforts to promote Thoreau's literary and philosophical legacy, visit their website: Walden Woods Project. Other worthy recent projects include opening a self-guided interpretive trail, "Thoreau's Path on Brister's Hill," and offering for sale a unique Steinway concert grand piano featuring maquetry depicting scenes from the Massachusetts woods. Some of the proceeds from the piano's sale will help support conservation of Walden Woods.

The Thoreau volumes join many other classic writings about nature that are free for the asking and occasionally free for the searching on the web. While teaching online mini-classes about Evolution, I found Origin and many other books by and about Darwin among the 20,000 volumes in Project Gutenberg's e-library. If you'd like free access to some classics online, visit Project Gutenberg. Or, you could go to the library . . . .