a review of Walden
from the studio that brought you a review of forrest gump 2, uh...here's another one.
After the resounding success of my last post, an in-depth critique of Forrest Gump 2 (Gump and Co.) that I believe was my longest post ever, along with one of my least read. It was probably the most (admittedly, little) work I’ve put into writing something, and I was rewarded with next to nothing. As I transcendentally meditate screaming HATERS ARE MY MOTIVATORS at my naked body sitting cross-legged in front of a full-length mirror, I continue forth. Hank’s book club soldiers on. After all, one of my book club endeavors did lead to me getting a Patti Smith influenced tattoo that everyone thinks is a Harry Potter representation. Which isn’t great for my vibe because combined with Alabama tattoos and what people think is a reference to a notorious TERF, I really come across like a piece of shit. Luckily, my warm and lovely personality dissuades all those fears. Just kidding, my silent awkwardness just probably makes it worse. Hey! That’s not the point, it’s another book review!
Walden; or, Life in the Woods is the seminal work of Henry David Thoreau. Where he built a cabin in the woods of Massachusetts, lived there for a little over two years, and wrote a book about his experience. A lot of what I’m writing sounds like I’m getting it from Wikipedia and that’s because I’m getting it from Wikipedia. Growing up, my parents had lots of books, which in turn, inspired me to become an avid reader. Having old folks as parents, I was able to read an eclectic mix because well, I guess there isn’t much else to do but read books and play balls with sticks you find when you’re born before the advent of electricity. Upon my research, they were born after the advent of electricity but for the sake of this analogy, let’s assume they weren’t. I assume you could be born in any era and not have a desire for literature because you’d be too busy tending the farm and milking the cows. Regardless, they inspired me to become a reader and later “writer” and for that I thank them. Again, you may notice I haven’t mentioned much of Walden. Let’s try again.
Walden, that book where the dude sleeps outside is the magnum opus of Henry David Thoreau. Or at least the opus, due to it being the length of a novella, maybe it’s more like a…hmm, it’s not like they make Trojan Tiny’s. Quick side note: I once taught a Sexual Education course to tweens and teenagers, and I look back and laugh because I think that’s the most ironic pairing imaginable. Oh right, so growing up I started Walden, and I did not finish it. I almost always finish books; I will force myself to finish a book whether I even enjoy it or not. For a long time, my mom thought it was stupid that I didn’t finish To Kill a Mockingbird because the first page didn’t resonate with me, and I gave it up because I said it wasn’t able to hook my attention. She was right. That book was great and is also a seminal piece of literature. I’ve both mentioned seminal and Trojan’s in the same post, this is going off the rails. Let’s get back on track.
Walden, a book written by a guy with my same name. I bought a hardcover copy to take with me on a mini getaway this Labor Day weekend where I went to Sleepy Hollow, NY with my wife. I thought that getting out of the concrete jungle and into nature would be comforting for the soul and I should read a work that reflects that. I very much enjoyed the trip, only wishing it was longer, but I came back wishing I was more well versed on Washington Irving than having consumed all of Walden. In total, I read 3 pages. In my defense, I read about 150 of Chuck Klosterman’s book about the 90’s. I didn’t know that the hardcover version of Walden I would buy would only be about 3 inches tall, or 60% of that of a normal paperback, less than half the size of a traditional hardcover. It makes for a very awkward reading experience. Also, I can’t remember my exact thought process of why I never finished Walden, but I feel like that mental block remains. I thought Henry James and The Turning of the Screw was simply alright. I think Henry Ford might’ve helped some things with the assembly line, but he was also a virulent racist. Henry Cavill, actually, I have no qualms with him. I was going to say there’s some universal blockage between me and fandom for Henry’s, he could be the exception to prove the rule. Henry Ruggs III, the Alabama football player, yup, he drove drunk and killed a woman and her dog. Oof.
Walden, yeah, I might never finish it. The dude lives in the woods and he survives. Big whoop. It was like the 18th century, it’s not like it could’ve been that different from everyday life anyway. Oh wow, good job, either way you’re pooping in a hole in the ground. Maybe you relied less on slaves, wow, look at you being an inadvertent abolitionist leaning fella. Although at the same time, off the grid living had now morphed into right wing insanity, Unabomber-esque behavior so at least he did it before it was such a red flag. Congratulations, Henry, you avoided that shit show. Still doesn’t mean I’m ever going to finish your book. So it goes.