The Thoreau You Don't Know by Robert Sullivan: May 2009

Organic Farmers are Suffering

Organic farmers are suffering, and they are questioning whether they can go local—i.e., sell their milk in their communities, rather than have it trucked off out of state. Which raises the question: is local the most organic? Here is a photo from the New York Times' report, with the following caption: "Last month’s meeting of the Maine Organic Milk Producers drew worried farmers seeking solutions to a post-boom bust."

To Stay or Slay?

With newspapers and television news reports using the word "staycation" over and over again, it's maybe a good time to recycle the newspaper and explore your neighborhood, where, if you are us, you will find things like this. Or you can go on what Bike Snob calls a "slaycation." What? You don't know Bike Snob? You've got to get inside more. Or schluff.)

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'The Thoreau You Don't Know' by Robert Sullivan - Los Angeles Times

'The Thoreau You Don't Know' by Robert Sullivan - Los Angeles Times

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TTYDK Takes to the E-Airwaves

See here, for a podcast by a prominent member of the Thoreau You Don't Know staff.

Broken Up

If you need images of cracked concrete, then this is where you can get them, thanks to designm.ag.

Many Mannahattas

If you have not heard about the Mannahatta Project yet, then we envy you—the thrill of first Mannahatta contact is nothing to be sneezed at, even on an Air Action Alert day, precipitated in part by pollen, in part by everyone driving around in cars. Here the Bowery Boys, America's number one New York City history blogsite, takes on Mannahatta, seen, with the outline of the current Manhattan surrounding it, below.

Bike Rules

Readers of this site know that (a) they would likely be better of reading other sites, or reading; and (b) that the staff here at TTYDK is very interested in the idea of bike etiquette, which can sometimes seem like an oxymoron though not always. On that note, here is this from Transportation Alternatives. It;s a new series of bike rules--the most important being the first, which reads as follows: "Pedestrians always have the right of way. PERIOD." Icons are below, explainations at the T.A. site, bikingrules.org

Write On

The New York Times Book Review's blog, Paper Cuts, makes some good points about Thoreau's pencil, pun intended.
Photo here.

Available now from Robert Sullivan, the New York Times best selling author, and published by Harper. A description from the publisher:

What if Henry David Thoreau—America’s pioneering nature lover, the man who famously lived in a little house of his own construction—was actually pro-city rather than just a monkish introvert who wanted to be left alone in the woods? What if the man we think of as so serious and introspective was really a joker, a bit of clown, a kind of stand-up comic in his day? And what if the fact that he often went home to his family or into town for supper didn’t show him to be a cheater or a fraud as far as self-reliance goes? What if spending time with his friends and family—i.e., community—was his point all along?

Reasons that Thoreau is maybe more applicable to these troubling times than you may imagine

¶ He was living not in a peaceful time where he could just sit there and look at a pond but at a time of financial crisis, panics, even, when unemployment was first being recognized as a crisis, when people began to think that the economic system was broken—to wit, there were unemployed workers often living at Walden Pond.
¶ He was not just writing about butterflies (though he uses one to excellent, redemptive effect at Walden's end) but about how work was taking over our lives, how play was disappearing, how things like conversation were disappearing, along with sympathy, empathy and gratitude.
¶ He was very interested in gadgets, being an engineer himself--no technophobe--and living at a time of intense technological excitement.
¶ He was big on tunes, as in music, as in having a playlist, though in those days it was called a repertoire—he played a mean flute.

A Review

A mischievous reporter on the universe, Sullivan has found beauty in a notorious swamp in The Meadowlands (1998) and wisdom in an alley in Rats (2004). In his latest slyly philosophical inquiry, he endeavors to free Henry David Thoreau from his calcified reputation as a cantankerous hermit and nature worshipper. Sounding like your favorite teacher who manages to make history fun and relevant, Sullivan vibrantly portrays the sage of Walden as a geeky, curious, compassionate fellow of high intelligence and deep feelings who loved company, music, and long walks. An exceptional writer mad for puns, Thoreau
was also a bold social critic and—the crux of Sullivan’s stimulating argument—a brilliant, tongue-incheek
humorist. Sullivan, himself plenty saucy, also elucidates Thoreau’s radical focus on “man’s
interaction with nature.” In command of a great diversity of fascinating material, Sullivan succinctly illuminates the striking parallels between Thoreau’s time and ours—foreclosures, lost jobs, and rapid technological change. Thoreau remains vital and valuable because of his acute observations, wit, and lyricism and his recognition that the “force of life is everywhere,” a perception even more essential now that the consequences of the societal choices Thoreau prophetically critiqued have reached staggering proportions.--Donna Seaman, in Booklist

More from the publisher:
Henry David Thoreau is one of those authors that readers think you know, even if they don’t. He’s the solitary curmudgeon with the shack out in the woods, the mystic worshipping solemnly in the quiet church of nature. He’s our national Natural Man, the prophet of environmentalism. But here Robert Sullivan—who himself has been called an “urban Thoreau” (New York Times Book Review) presents the Thoreau you don’t know: the activist, the organizer, the gregarious adventurer, the guy who likes to go camping with friends (even if they sometimes accidentally burn the woods down). Sullivan argues that Walden was a book intended to revive America, a communal work forever pigeonholed as a reclusive one, and that this misreading is at the heart of our troubled relationship with the environment today. Sullivan shows us not a lonely eccentric but a man in his growing village, a man who danced and sang, who worked throughout his short life at the family pencil-making business, and moved into his parents’ house after leaving Walden Pond, but always paid his father rent. Passionate yet whimsical, The Thoreau You Don’t Know asks us to re-examine our everyday relationship with the natural world, and one another.