The Thoreau You Don't Know by Robert Sullivan

Matthew Sharpe Takes it Home

The week that was Matthew Sharpe's week bloggin' at Powell's wrapped up today, Friday.

Matthew Sharpe's Powell's Expedition

The Echo Maker is the title of Sharpe's first Powell's guest blog post, one of a week's worth of posts and posts. Take heed!

I find this humbling: the possibility that always and everywhere, our understanding of the world and of each other and of ourselves is at best a fairly attuned and nuanced fiction.

Dave in Meadowlands!

Meadowlands aficionados will be excited to know that my friend Dave is in and out of the Meadowlands today—to wit:

Just as the red maples lead the chorus of turning leaves as they set south from Nova Scotia and Maine, slowly setting fire to the woods in the Middle Atlantic states--set fire figuratively speaking, of course, as we have surely had our share of floods and fires and quakes of late--so the music scene in Reykjavik leads the way, in some instances, when it comes to music in New York. A place that the staff of the TYDK has long dreamed of visiting and yet never actually has is Reykjavik, which was recent host, apparently, to The Murphy Beds. The Beds, as they are sometimes known, are normally a four-member ensemble, making this Icelandic permutation a kind of twin Beds thing. Góða nótt og dreymi þig vel! Via reykjavik.com.

More Icelandic saga:

More Murphy Beds:

Broken

A friend of the TYDK—N.D., the cousin of one of the unicyclists here—sent over this below, and we are all very grateful:

And Yet

Right! Nothing you do matters!

You reduce, reuse and recycle. You turn down plastic and paper. You avoid out-of-season grapes. You do all the right things.
Good.
Just know that it won’t save the tuna, protect the rain forest or stop global warming. The changes necessary are so large and profound that they are beyond the reach of individual action.

This is the kind of thing people love to read, a relief. And yet, it is, we here at the TYDK would argue, short-sighted, a view of the trees that purports to be a view of the forest. It has put us in mind of this, which is where this post takes its title, "And Yet."

Free Agency, Part 2

The response by the NYPD to the Associated Press report on the New York City police department's counter terrorism program was notable for being as petty-seeming as it claimed the A.P.'s report is.

NYPD Deputy Commissioner Paul Browne defended the city’s counter-terrorism efforts following allegations that police have been spying on Muslim communities with the CIA’s help, blaming criticism partially on petty "jealousies that success sometimes breeds.”

Maybe there is absolutely nothing to the A.P. report, which seems unlikely. I hope other news agencies follow up on it. I don't think paying attention to your police department is petty, especially since success, when it comes to civil liberties, is measured on a daily basis, rather than looking back at the term of, say, a mayor or police commissioner.

The Swamps of Jersey

I wrote a piece about the new development plans in the Meadowlands, here, which is rendered (my word) like so:

And if I am not mistaken, Rosalita is the tune that includes the following lyric" "...somewhere in the swamps of Jersey..."

Free Agency

This morning WNYC featured Matt Apuzzo, the Associated Press reporter who co-wrote this story:

Since the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, the NYPD has become one of the country's most aggressive domestic intelligence agencies. A months-long investigation by The Associated Press has revealed that the NYPD operates far outside its borders and targets ethnic communities in ways that would run afoul of civil liberties rules if practiced by the federal government. And it does so with unprecedented help from the CIA in a partnership that has blurred the bright line between foreign and domestic spying. Neither the city council, which finances the department, nor the federal government, which contributes hundreds of millions of dollars each year, is told exactly what's going on.

Just out of curiosity--where were our other news organizations on this?

Downgrade

Why does the job market get such short shrift? Why do we outsource ourselves in the foot? Where is the Walden Pond we can visit that will allow us to see we cannot have a long-term solution to a debt crisis with out a short term solution wherein people have jobs, with rising debt-solving incomes? Can we worry a little less about the stock market and a little more about the job market? It's depressing, for sure, which is why humor is a kind of stimulus.

Boat Biking

Speaking of the harbor, here is a biker leading his Zodiak to the bay, shot sideways on Columbia Street in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

On the Water

On this, the anniversary of the publication of Walden, we direct your attention to the harbor of New York, which is a place that is in the city, of course, but also away, a place for reflection that necessitates association, to make a pub on the movement of Thoreau's day, led by the Associationists. Thoreau was an association of one, thinking for himself, strengthening the community by strengthening himself. Here is another great piece by Corey Kilgannon, Day one of a week that we hope goes long:

Cuckoo

In case, you don't know "The Cuckoo," which is the theme song for William Hogeland's Declaration, just out in paperback, here is this, from the Quincy Patriot-Ledger:

A talk on the book is here.

Things Noticed

Here's a post that explains this photo:

The Village is Dying

Thoreau's Concord was losing its populace, facing the onslaught of urban investment, farms dying, "country homes" sprouting like invasive weeds. Here's a version of the same story:

Bike Lanes

Concert

The Other Rats

Photos in the news of the new muskrat in the Gowanus Canal, formerly Gowanus Creek. This New York Post piece mentions the muskrats living at Brooklyn Bridge Park. Muskrat cam?

A muskrat has made a home along the toxic Brooklyn waterway’s banks by First and Bond streets, a few feet away from one of four houseboats now docked along the Gowanus that the Post reported on in Monday's edition.

Putting the O in Storm (Drains)

Toil

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.