Walden by Henry David Thoreau — A Review
“There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in nature, and has his senses still.”
Before you read Walden, I recommend reading about Thoreau himself or watching a documentary about the life that he lived. Henry David Thoreau is a commonly misunderstood literary figure, but many believe his work pertains just as much to life today as it did in 1845. I happen to agree with that sentiment.
Opening the first page of Walden opens a door to a journey inside the untamed mind of Thoreau. He was a self-admitted hermit, although people often debate whether he was a hermit or not. On page 284, he says: Ah! Such discourse we had, hermit and philosopher,” while speaking of a philosopher from Connecticut who had visited Walden Woods one winter.
I think it’s possible to be a hermit and occasionally enjoy the company of others. Thoreau was hermit enough to live alone for two years, but that did not mean he was not sociable. It is no secret that he was incredibly critical of society in the 19th century. His critiques of his fellow man have turned many readers away, labeling Thoreau a hypocrite, narcissist, and misanthrope.
What’s so great about Walden?
The significance of Walden is that although it is nearly 170 years old, we can draw modern-day comparisons to 19th-century life in Concord, MA. Thoreau references man’s materialistic desires, such as living in a big house full of furniture.
On PG 72, He tells us of a time he witnessed carts transporting boxes of furniture and wrote, “Indeed, the more you have of such things, the poorer you are. Each load looks as if it contained the contents of a dozen shanties; and if one shanty is poor, this is a dozen times as poor.”
Thoreau himself owned furniture, but only what was essential to him. He also stated on PG 72: “None is so poor that he need sit on a pumpkin.”
The importance of observation
While it is fair to say that Thoreau held bias, Walden is as much a book regarding the world around us as it is an ode to nature. Thoreau spoke against the industrialism that he witnessed. He observed that men never seem content and are always wanting more, a problem we still see to this day.
In reading Walden, we realize how rare it is to be fully observant of the world around us. Walden encourages us to slow down and think for ourselves. In the chapter Visitors, Thoreau speaks of a Canadian wood chopper who thinks for himself and forms his own opinions, something Thoreau describes as rare and states he would walk ten miles to witness.
Take your time
I spent two and a half months reading Walden. I could have read it much quicker, but I wanted to take the time to understand it the best I could. There were sections that I found difficult to understand, no matter how slow or how many times I read them. There were other sections that resonated with me instantly, which made it enjoyable.
What makes Walden such a difficult read is a combination of factors. With Thoreau’s use of vocabulary, you will find many of the words in this book to be dated and not commonly spoken today. Add to that the fact that Thoreau writes in Latin multiple times and the many historical references to ancient parables with which many of us may not be familiar.
I have heard it said that people either love Walden or hate it. Contrary to this black-and-white narrative, I see the grey area. I cannot say that I love it or hate it; rather, I would say that there were sections I did not care for, and there were sections that I absolutely loved and that piqued my interest in Transcendentalism. I will for sure read it again.
Thoreau’s Ode to Nature
My favorite chapter in Walden is the ponds. Thoreau speaks of Walden Pond with such love and adoration that it inspired me to travel there for myself someday. The following quote is what I found to be the most beautifully touching text in all of Walden.
Nothing so fair, so pure, and at the same time so large, as a lake, perchance, lies on the surface of the earth. Sky water. It needs no fence. Nations come and go without defiling it. It is a mirror which no stone can crack, whose quicksilver will never wear off, whose gilding nature continually repairs; no storms, no dust, can dim its surface ever fresh; a mirror in which all impurity presented to it sinks, swept and dusted by the sun’s hazy brush — this is the light dust-cloth — which retains no breath that is breathed on it, but sends its own to float as clouds high above its surface, and be reflected in its bosom still. — Walden PG 201.
