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Like, how can we continue to live ethically in a country where so many people are enslaved? How can we live in a country that prioritizes profit and industry over old-growth forests? He doesn’t have those answers, and he’s full of contradictions, but he’s willing to write through it all. He’s a little like a millennial he might not have all the answers and is sometimes a little difficult, but he’s willing to keep asking questions. He’s this silly uncle-type who babysits Emerson’s kids, the guy who goes ice-skating with Nathaniel Hawthorne and, according to Hawthorne’s wife, tries to do twirls and leaps off the ice. But I think anyone who immerses themselves in his writing and life will see a fourth identity: this poetic, silly, questioning, incredibly smart, life-loving thirty-something who died so young-at forty-four-and who wanted to write about so much. He’s the abolitionist and activist and defender of human rights, but he doesn’t seem to like people all that much, at least certain types, in his writing. Sure, he’s a hermit, but he’s also the guy who would have dinner with his mom and have her do his laundry. They can cancel each other out, and we get frustrated. But those three identities don’t always interact well with each other. I’m not the first one to say this, but we’ve come to see him as three people: the political activist-the abolitionist, pacifist, and environmentalist-and then he’s the artist, the poetic and gifted writer who will end his book with the line, “The sun is but a morning star” and then he’s the hermit, building his own cabin in the woods. And then they’ll find themselves loving him, if they read him later in life, if, like me, they come to his journals.Īnother reason we find him difficult is that he doesn’t fit into an easy category. There’s a section of American literary culture that loves to hate Thoreau at first. We were all forced to read Walden and “Civil Disobedience,” which are not very accessible, not anywhere near how accessible his journals are. There’s always a winter of most readers’ relationship with him, which probably starts in high school. I’m curious as to when you first encountered his writing, and what made you willingly and deliberately give his work a second chance.īen Shattuck: I think you’ll find that most people who interact with Thoreau, either on an academic level or as a fan of his writing, start off this way.
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The Rumpus: You mention that, before you started reading Thoreau’s journals, you remembered him as “a boring, possibly chauvinistic writer who’d lived beside his mother and grew beans as if he were Aristotle.” And I’ve got to say: That was my first recollection of Thoreau, too. We spoke on the phone recently about clouds and butterflies and what it’s like to have the tip of your finger explode.
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The book serves as a momentous landmark in time, reminding us of what might be lost in this world and what must be preserved. Like Thoreau, Shattuck includes some of his own detailed sketches that help give image to essential moments in his journeys. Katahdin, Wachusett Mountain, sleepy Cape Cod towns in Massachusetts, and Thoreau’s family’s former homestead in Rhode Island’s Sakonnet Point. In Six Walks: In the Footsteps of Henry David Thoreau, out now from Tin House, Shattuck visits striking New England landmarks like Maine’s Allagash Wilderness Waterway and Mt.
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But what started out as a necessary compulsion to get out of the house after being injured turned into a happenstance series of brilliant meditations on the philosopher and what it means to be part of the natural world. The visual artist Ben Shattuck didn’t set out at first to write a book about retracing some of Henry David Thoreau’s most famous journeys across New England, as detailed in texts like Cape Cod, A Walk to Wachusett, and The Maine Woods.