How we walk, where we walk, why we walk tells the world who and what we are. Whether it's once a day to the car, or for long weekend hikes, or as competition, or as art, walking is a profoundly universal aspect of what makes us humans, social creatures, and engaged with the world. Cultural commentator Geoff Nicholson offers his fascinating, definitive, and personal ruminations on the history, science, philosophy, art, and literature of walking. Nicholson finds people who walk only at night, or naked, or in the shape of a cross or a circle, or for thousands of miles at a time, in costume, for causes, or for no reason whatsoever. He examines the history and traditions of walking and its role as inspiration to artists, musicians, and writers like Bob Dylan, Charles Dickens, and Buster Keaton. In "The Lost Art of Walking," he brings curiosity, imagination, and genuine insight to a subject that often strides, shuffles, struts, or lopes right by us.
Geoff Nicholson was a British novelist and nonfiction writer. He was educated at the Universities of Cambridge and Essex.
The main themes and features of his books include leading characters with obsessions, characters with quirky views on life, interweaving storylines and hidden subcultures and societies. His books usually contain a lot of black humour. He has also written three works of nonfiction and some short stories. His novel Bleeding London was shortlisted for the 1997 Whitbread Prize.
There probably is an audience for this type of book, well, clearly if you read the rave reviews on this site. But it really isn't for me. Nicholson writes smoothly, but his style is a bit too journalistic. And above all: he puts himself in the spotlight so much that I lost sight of the fact that this is a book about my favourite pastime: walking! With such a preposterous title I had expected a lot more. Rebecca Solnit has some of these narcistic traits too, but her Wanderlust: A History of Walking is way more interesting!
What got lost? After spending a couple evenings with The Lost Art of Walking (2008) you’ll probably conclude that walking as a medium of expression is anything but defunct. Nicholson has gathered a thick bundle of quirky walking tales and interlaced them with stories of his own curious pedestrian habits. How he’s told and re-told these anecdotes will tempt you to put your feet up for a few hours.
Have a little patience with the first chapter. Nicholson leaves the gate without any of the earnestness promised in the subtitle, The History, Science, Philosophy and Literature of Pedestrianism. In fact, the book starts off on a faux pas. The author trips, falls, and breaks his arm on page 2. The rest of the chapter is spent whining about his injury-induced depression. It’s at this point that I put the book down for two years.
But almost every book deserves a second chance, and I was happy to find that after 50 pages of griping, self-pity, and name dropping, Nicholson finally gives us something hinted at in his title. Enter the Mudman, a performance artist who cakes himself with goo and ooze and bits of plywood and chicken wire, and in this guise walks across Los Angeles. A few pages later we meet Richard Long, who creates some of his art by literally stamping it into the ground. And then there are the in-your-face street photographers who capture the surprised expressions of those of us bold enough to venture outside our iron cocoons, and the psychogeographers who either drift about urban environments letting serendipity reveal hidden meanings in the landscape or purposefully walk paths that trace gigantic letters across the width of a city. And of course, we meet the competitive walkers, mostly Victorian oddities or showmen who perambulate great distances in short periods of time, sometimes clad in iron masks, pushing baby carriages, or covered from head to foot in a leather sheath.
Like much of Nicholson’s work, The Lost Art is a book of the bizarre, a Believe It or Not! compendium of weird walking that would be easily put down were it not for his style. Watching Nicholson lace all these strange stories together, you may be reminded of Ovid, the ancient mythographer, whose Metamorphoses was another collection of remarkably odd tales stitched together in improbable but entertaining ways that leave you wondering How did we get here? At its best, Nicholson’s tone can be just as ironic as the old Roman’s, even though he often settles for a snarky smirk.
Is there anything really new in this book? Not much. Nicholson’s not long on analysis. But what he gives us has been bundled up in an easy manner that’s rich with entertaining cultural allusions. It makes a fine rainy day read. And the bibliography serves as a fingerpost to several titles and Web sites that should uncover even more of the pleasures of pedestrianism.
Walking, for me is a total meditation. I rarely walk to go from point A to point B, but more out of the enjoyment of the process of leaving the front door and not sure what direction I will go. That, to me, is pure walking. As a walker, I like to read books by other walkers. Geoff Nicholson's "The Lost Art of Walking" is very much the ultimate 'walking' book. It not only deals with the author walking in Los Angeles, New York City, London, and his home town of Sheffield in the U.K., but also the very nature of the habit of walking. The book covers a lot of ground - writers who write about walking, films that deal with walking, and interestingly enough - street photographers who have to walk for their picture taking process. There are also music references throughout the book regarding the subject matter of walking. Also a series of profiles on those who did walk, and the legendary walkers throughout history. He also comments on the issues of urban walking vs. a walk in the desert. It's a fun read, and Nicholson is all over the map, and quite opinionated as well. Not the ultimate Situationist text, or even close to it - but a (very) good book on the walk and walking in general.
An odd book. Sometimes autobiographical, sometimes historical, sometimes a catalog of walking showing up in movies, books, music. I'm not entirely sure why I read the whole thing, or whether I think it was worth it or not. My guess is mostly not. All the same, a few notes:
p. 11: "... an academic by the name of Sherington did experiments with decorticated cats. He removed their brains and found they were still able to walk perfectly well." gross.
In the chapter "As I Tripped Out One Morning: Music, Movement, Movies", the author completely misses Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks.
p. 160-161 "... I realized that walking away is one of life's greatest pleasures, whether it's walking away from a bad job, a bad relationship, a bad educational course..." probably not what I should be reading right now :)
p. 220-221 "Why guild the lily?" is a fun saying
p. 256, part of the whole conclusion, "The pace of words is the pace of walking, and the pace of walking is also the pace of thought."
“The Lost Art of Walking” is told through a series of essays about the act and experience of walking. Geoff Nicholson touches upon pedestrianism in literature, art, and film, exploring how people approach the act of walking from a scientific and philosophical perspective.
Nicholson writes mostly out of personal experience, and some of his personal anecdotes are very entertaining and give the book a casual approach to its subject matter. It reads as if he is jotting down thoughts and references as he wanders about, and at times these are connected in interesting and entertaining ways, but more often he seems to lack imagination, and at his worst, he goes as far as to deride people who associate walking with a mystical or religious experience. While I can understand that people may be put off by a “new age” approach to the subject of spirituality, I see it as someone who is at least trying to capture the awe or wonderment they experience in nature and walking, instead of downright dismissing it and only focus on the practical aspects as Nicholson does.
He also quickly dismisses the ideas surrounding psychogeography as something either purely imagined or something that should be common knowledge or experience for anyone who is walking. Though I disagree with his thoughts on this, it's nice to read a book on pedestrianism that features a different viewpoint on this subject matter.
The book does include some fairly interesting anecdotes and can point the interested reader in the direction of new authors, films, and even music that explores the art of walking, not to mention new routes to explore. It’s just a shame that Nicholson never seems to be able to connect with the mysteries awaiting the curious walker in nature and throughout the confines of a city.
I have to admit. I’m sort of at a loss for words. (which for those who know me, is oft not the case)
I had high hopes for this book. High hopes for a book entitled “The Lost Art Of Walking” & what it could inspire & reflect of the world.
But then, just as it began. Betrayal.
A book about walking written by an author who willingly lives in LA? But nobody fucking walks in LA. In fact, I’ve been led to believe that walking in LA is considered a criminal act.
What on earth can an author from LA say about this lost art other than to say: “Damn, what a shame. No one walks in LA. But you *can* walk in large cities like LA, New York, or London… Sure most people don’t. Still more won’t. And you know what I’ve found? The stories of the place where you walk are often more interesting to tell than to talk about the science or history about walking itself.1 Behold. The lost art of walking… Watch me fill 200 plus pages with anecdotes about people who once walked & the places they walked.”
And that’s what he’s done. 200 plus pages of drivel about people who walked & anecdotal stories about walks the author has taken in LA, NYC, & London. Stories about hidden places where you may discover on foot, but are just as likely to ignore.
Now this is not to say that some of the stories aren’t compelling. There are bits about competitive walkers that were quite amusing. People testing their merits not with running, but with calculated & strategic endeavors to walk 1000 miles in 1000 hours or to walk across country in 100 days. And these stories are worthwhile. They speak to a time past, when extreme sports were less indicative of overcoming fears, and much more about overcoming self.2 However, these do not make up for the meaningless stories of Hollywood Star-walking tourist wandering about LA or the lack of any real or meaningful discussion of walking as an art, lost or otherwise.
The book reminds me of a college paper some poor professor had to read. Well researched. Poorly executed. And if to make my point, the author ends abruptly, not with any summary or final conclusive thought, but with pride over his well formed bibliography of other author’s takes on the subject of walking.
The only good that’s come from this book for me was the mostly unnecessary reminder that walking is good for clearing the head. Something which, upon completing this sadly composed book, I’m suddenly in great fucking need.
1DO NOT GIVE YOUR BOOK A FUCKING SUBTITLE IF YOU AREN’T PLANNING ON WRITING MUCH ABOUT THESE THINGS!!!
2seriously - if you think that 1000 miles in 1000 hours seems easy, try walking 5 miles in 5 hours - i promise you will find parts of you that will hurt far more than any 5 mile hike, no matter how arduous, has possibly inflicted.
A delightful, easy to read, essay on walks Geoff Nicholson had taken, and the walking achievements of others. I had heard of people doing walks across America, along the Appalachian Trail, I watched the first moon walk, I've even done charity walks, but I had never heard of psychogeography or the organization Situationist International.
Sometimes it's fun to read stuff just to find out what strange things humans can find to occupy their time. Now I love to walk, but I don't think I'll be walking in the outlines of letters or runes or martini glasses anytime soon. Can't you just see this as your next ice-breaker at a party, "Have you ever walked in the shape of a martini glass?" And then find out how many inebriated people you could talk into doing it during the party.
As an avid walker, I looked forward to this book, but my ultimate response was "Meh." Nicholson's book is basically lots of anecdotes about white men walking, some interesting, many boring at best and annoying at worst. His tendency to make broad generalizations and his self-satisfied tone added to my dislike of the book, and I abandoned it after several chapters.
The author relates his own walking experiences together with those of others, both historical and contemporary. This is an interesting and witty collection of tales.
If Geoff Nicholson said something about the lost part of the art of walking, I missed it. It seems pretty thriving from all he writes. And while there is a historical perspective on some aspects of walking (the competitive, eccentric part, for one) and some thoughtful musings related to literature, science, and some (again eccentric) philosophic takes on the subject of walking, the subtitle too is as misleading as the main title is made to be by inclusion of the word lost. So ignore the inaccuracies of title and subtitle and take a fine, diverting ramble through walk associated topics with Geoff Nicholson, a practioner of the art of pedestrainism. There are wonderful chapters on walking in LA, London, and New York. Good personal essay chapters (though the whole book is really a string of personal essays, thinly if cleverly connected) on why he chose the topic and his own walking to and from home, literally and metaphorically, are also entertaining. There are dry bits (the whole psychogeography theme, only partially helped by Nicholson’s skeptical, if not sarcastic take on it) and one or two gratitutious bits, one successfully entertaining and informative (slagging Chaplin, praising Keaton) and the other just lame and mean, albeit brief (New Age walking).
The book has a couple of regrettable errors, one a typo, “In 1962, John F. Kennedy…discovered an executive order by Theodore Roosevelt in 1956,” which must be 1906, since Teddy have been dead for quite some time by 1956 and even longer out of office. His cousin Franklin was also long dead and out of office by 1956 too. So likely the right Roosevelt, definitely the wrong year. The other is just hyperbole of the lazy generalization kind, “If you’re looking for an argument when you’re walking in New York, you can find one on every block.” As a joke, it’s pedestrian. As an observation, it’s dependent on being as true in New York as it would be anywhere else. Minor irritations aside, Nicholson is smart, funny, well-read and a skilled and flavorful writer, making his book worth it to anyone interested in walking, the three cities he devotes chapters to, or fans of lively, entertaining non-fiction. As someone who views, or viewed, himself as something of a walker I found The Lost Art of Walking making me determined to pick up the pace and add some creativity to my own walking. Not a small gift.
A wonderful thesis on walking. Very personal and at the same time general enough to hold my interest. Maybe that didn't come out right. Just saying that there was a good mix of history and antidotes intermixed with philosophy. Geoff writes about the weird and often comical nature of the bygone era where walking was a spectator sport. A gamblers dream and a social event. He writes about some of the longest, most unique, dangerous, complicated walks imaginable. He writes about his own adventures and mis-adventures both as a young man and as an adult. The musings about when he was young woke memories in me. A sense of the philosophical "In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau writes, “The act of walking ... is a process of appropriation of the topographical system on the part of the pedestrian; it is a special acting-out of the place ... and it implies relations among differentiated positions.”" I hope some of this ethos rubs off on my own adventures.
I thoroughly enjoyed this informative and sometimes irreverent non-fiction stroll through walking history. The author, an inveterate walker himself, organizes the book thematically, such as walks in key cities (L.A., New York), walking in music, and some of the odd achievements in walking history. People have known about the benefits of walking for centuries, and before the motorized age, found some ingenious ways to compete. In the early 19th century, to be a pedestrian meant racing on foot. “Go as you please” races were popular, sometimes lasting several days. Competitors were free to walk or run and rest whenever. Winner was who got in first. I was fond of the sections on eccentrics and sacramental walkers: John Francis, aka Planet Walker, who walked for 17 years in silence (22 altogether) in many countries, partly inspired by an ecological accident in ’71; a couple of decades earlier, Peace Pilgrim (Mildred Ryder), who spent a good deal of her life walking across the US. My favorite quote comes from Robert Burton, author of The Anatomy of Melancholy (1621): ““The most pleasant of all outward pastimes is that of…strolling through pleasant scenery, to make a petty progress, a merry journey now and then with some good companions, to visit friends, see cities, castles, towns…to walk amongst orchards, bowers, mounts, and arbors, artificial wildernesses, green thickets, arches, groves, rivulets, fountains, and such like pleasant places….” Who wouldn’t have shaken the blues with habits like that?
I'm a walker (a hiker, an exercise walker, a flaneur - I'm not that picky about locale or intent), so I read pretty much any book of this genre that I can find. I came across this referenced in another book on walking, so I had to seek it out, being the completist that I am. Nicholson is personable and writes well, and there are lots of interesting quotes/observations/historical minutiae in this book. However, the final product lacks focus, and doesn't even really attempt to hide that - the subtitle is "The History, Science, and Literature of Pedestrianism". Add to that the many, at times lengthy, personal asides about the author's personal history with walking (and many more general biographical tracts of text), and it's hard not to feel like it would have been better doing a deeper dive on one of these threads instead of a quick ramble through all of them in a relatively short work.
Somewhere between 3 and 4 stars, but I'm always inclined to grade a walking book favorably...
If you ignore the subtitles, "The Lost Art of Walking" might be a more apt representation of what this book accomplishes. And I use the word "might" rather loosely here, because for as much as the book is an anecdotal look at walking from the perspective of his personal meanderings littered with stories of a few very eccentric individuals (such as the Mudman), there is still a ton in this book that is either shoe horned in or has very little to do with walking at all.
Once you bring in the subtitles though, the book very quickly (and obviously, in my opinion) betrays what it sets out to do. So if you are expecting him to touch on history, science, philosophy or walking in literature, this study of pedestrianism is a let down.
That is not to say his vision remains completely allusive or hidden. He begins his book in a rather tedious fashion, using a rather ordinary event (he falls down while out walking) to set the tension moving forward for recognizing walking as an ordinary activity with extraordinary possibility, if we, as readers (and walkers) are able to understand why and how to walk well.
And the author does set the stage for some interesting discussion. The relationship he sees to words (or writing) and walking, an idea that reemerges in the conclusion where he writes, "The pace of words is the pace of walking, and the pace of walking is also the pace of thought", is fascinating. He brings up a great point when he contrasts the statistical or structured walk with the natural meandering or unstructured nature of walking. I am a big fan of New York so I am glad he devoted some time to singling that out as its own cultural identity, even if he doesn't do it justice. He touches on the relationship of walking to mental health and well being. And I thought there was a lot more to explore in the idea he submits in his chapter on London of retreading the steps of the many who have gone before us in the well trod streets in order to create our own experience.
But he merely sets the stage for these ideas before going off on stories that fail to really say much at all about the potential of these ideas. His chapter on walking and religion/spirituality was especially disappointing. It is true that the desert motif and setting is rich with opportunity, but again, he doesn't do anything with it. Similarly, the section on arts and culture (film, books, music) was a big let down as a chapter that basically strings together some random stuff with no real purpose.
Perhaps the place where he drops the ball the most though is in his reflection on first and last walks. There was so much he could have done to relate this to the science of how and why we came to walk in the first place, moving this into a picture of our first steps after birth to stories of last walks. I get why he includes his mother's story, and it is a fitting one, but it fails to connect emotionally and personally to what I think he desires to show as a incredibly intimate, personal and yet communal act.
Like Geoff Nicholson, I'm a walker from way back. Yes, I've strolled and wandered, pottered and tottered, dawdled and shuffled, mooched and sauntered and meandered. I’ve ambled and rambled. I’m not afraid to say I've also shambled, and now and again, gamboled.
Thus, any book that wishes to delve into the delights of a good walk is welcome to me. Highly recommended!
sort of a rambling walk of a book rather than goal-oriented or particularly organized. I suspect you could randomly rearrange the chapters without loss of readability -- some walks he's taken and things/people he saw in NYC, in LA, in London; some movie scenes involving walking; a time he tripped and fell; song lyrics pertaining to walking; the old competitive super-long-distance walking scene that seems to have existed to attract gambling;..........
now that I look at it, it sounds absurd as the basis for a book, but I actually enjoyed it fairly well. Your reaction may vary according to whether you find the author kind of funny or not. His persona is prominent throughout -- doesn't just recap what people say about walking labyrinths or how meditative walking is for them or what have you but instead sticks in his own disdain for all things New Age, for example. I didn't agree with him all the time but did find him an engaging raconteur.
Now that i'm finished, I'm fired up for a long walk I have on the docket tonight to get to/from a work-related event. Thanks, Geoff Nicholson!
I'm not sure what I expected from this book, but what I got wasn't it. Maybe I was expecting some accounts of how people got around on foot, used it as their primary mode of transportation, but I feel like most of this book was about the author's, and others' past and present, ultrawalking expeditions. There were some truly interesting tidbits, such as a paragraph about a man in Los Angeles with no legs--nothing below the hips-- would would get around on handpads. And I *SWEAR* this is THE SAME MAN I've seen at the LA Marathon several times. I mean, who could forget someone with NO LEGS completing a marathon by using handpads? And considering the book was copyrighted in 2008, the timing makes sense as well. It could, of course, be another person, but it gives me delight that maybe, *maybe*, I know the person the author was talking about.
Well, this book is most likely going BACK to the library donation pile. I bought at the library's used book sale, so I'll just complete that circle.
I'm a person who gets sudden solutions in the shower, but walking can produce the same absorption in physical sensation, the mindlessness, that allows for openings in the well-worn channels of thought.
Geoff Nicholson enjoys walking, and uses it to focus his thoughts and solve problems even before he realizes that walking also keeps him from lethargy and depression. He is interested in why and where and how others walk.
This entertaining and informative tour covers walkers famous and infamous, eccentric, strange, and ordinary. Walks competitive, musical, photographic, exploratory, spiritual, psychological, serious and fun. Country walks, city walks, desert walks and moon walks. Imaginary walks. Those taken and not taken.
Nicholson meanders extensively in the places he has lived: London, L.A., New York. He tries group walking, organized walking, theme walking, solitary and accidental walking, even psychogeographical walking.
This is a look at walking through the last twenty years. Some of the stories are interesting, but at times it can be repetitive or similar to a catalogue. It is like reading a summary of a novel or movie that you have not seen – the walk described is somewhat abstract or distant.
Nevertheless Geoff Nicholson is captivating, opinionated and at times humorous. The best sections and the most intimate were his own walks in Los Angeles, London, New York and his nature walks.
As Mr. Nicholson points out much of where we stroll today is man-made. When you attempt an actual wilderness trek it may not necessarily be a soulful and spiritual awakening. It can be a gruelling physical slog. No one can accuse Mr. Nicholson of having the blinders pulled over his eyes!
Perhaps in future writing endeavours Mr. Nicholson could describe his own favourite walks and not so favourite walks – I would definitely be interested.
This seems like an odd topic to write a whole book about, but Mr. Nicholson manages to make it both informative and entertaining. I have never thought to look at walking in such a diverse way. Mr. Nicholson not only discussed walking in art, movies, songs, literature and history, but also writes about phenomenal feats of walking. All that interspersed with his personal anecdotes. Although about two very different forms of foot travel I think I can safely put this book on par with Born to Run by Christopher McDougall.
I so thoroughly enjoyed this book and Mr. Nicholson’s writing style that next time I am in a bookstore I am going to stroll over and check out the others he has written.
Interesting anecdotes about walkers and walking, interspersed with some dull bits. What concerned me most was the author's apparent obliviousness to the politics of walking and public space accessibility. While his intention isn't to explore every aspect of walking, Nicholson does mention multiple times feeling unsafe or walking in a manner designed to deter others. I found it hard not to read these moments in a tone of "well I haven't ever had trouble, so trouble must not exist" despite my willingness to give him some benefit of the doubt.
The cover represents this book as "The History, Science, Philosophy, Literature, Theory And Practice Of Pedestrianism" - well I found little of any of this. This is a set of chapters about the authors self-immersion in his own strolls. Oh sure, there is a bit of history, science, etc thrown in but it's extremely superficial considering the breadth and depth of opportunities a discussion on "walking" could encompass. Donating my copy to the second-hand shops.
3.5 stars. A flawed gem. Bonus points for including Wenders, Keaton, and Winogrand. Nicholson is quite a cynic though (takes one to know one), and too easily sums up and dismisses a number of people/subjects (although the bit about the psychogeography conference is funny). I quite liked the all over the map, rambling style, and do recommend this book.
Anecdate after amecdote after anecdote. I tried reading it backwards and it was just the same. Like reading a set of magazine articles with a guy at the bar interrupting every now and then with another story. Some were interesting enough. I stuck it out because i love walking and if you like walking this book is just about Ok
By this point there are a lot of books out there about walking. And many of them cover the same ground. Geoff Nicholson has managed to write a walking book that is full of surprises. Sometimes chatty, he recounts his own walks around Los Angeles, London, and New York City. Sometimes journalistic, he interviews some people who are big time walkers, and he attends a psychogeography convention (more on psychogeography later). The biggest surprise is that he draws out of history and literature some of the weirdest, wackiest walking stories I have ever heard.
I mean, we all know about Thoreau and the Wordsworths, but did you know about a Captain Barclay in 19th century England who did all kinds of stunt-like walks, usually to get prize money. His most famous stunt was walking 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours, walking one mile every hour. Walking one mile in an hour is easy, but if you do it every hour, when do you sleep? A thousand hours works out to about a month and a half. If he walked a brisk 15 minute mile, and did his walking stints back to back, he could sleep for an hour and a half at a time. A month and a half is a long time to not sleep longer than an hour and a half at a time.
There was a Harry Bensley, who set out to walk across the world wearing an iron mask and pushing a baby carriage. He didn’t get very far. It was mostly an opportunity to sell postcards.
Albert Speer, the Nazi, wanted to walk from Berlin to Heidelberg, but he was in prison at the time, so he just walked laps around the prison yard, 2,296 of them.
There is the legendary story of St Anthony who walked three days through the desert to visit Paul the Hermit. When he got there, Paul the Hermit was dying, and asked Anthony to go back to the monastery to get him this special robe he wanted to be buried in. Anthony did. When he got back with the robe, Paul was dead, and Anthony was too tired, from all that walking, to bury him. So some lions showed up and dug a grave with their paws. Nicholson comments, “It’s strange what you find yourself seeing when you’re ninety years old and have been walking in the desert for nine consecutive days.”
Niocholson tries to do some stunt-like walks of his own. In LA he tracks down all the sites associated with Raymond Chandler. In London, he walked the length of Oxford Street, back and forth six times in one day. In New York, he tried to walk a route in the shape of a martini glass, while drinking martinis.
I said I would say something about psychogeography, which I had never heard of before this book. It supposedly is based on the idea that our physical environment has an influence on our emotional state. I would agree with that. I think most people would agree with that. I would think that the next step would be to design more inviting spaces, with benches and greenery. But no. What psychogeographers do is walk more or less aimlessly all over the city. Wikipedia calls the idea “charmingly vague.”
Anyway, Nicholson concludes that walking is great. It’s good for your health, and it fights depression, and it helps your thinking. So we should get out there.
As a walker, Geoff Nicholson has been privileged to have meandered all over the globe, while in this book he meanders primarily in London, Los Angeles, and Manhattan. As a writer, he meanders all over the page.
Throughout this book written in a stream-of-consciousness style, the patient reader will find many insightful and eloquent passages, but they are interspersed with useless fluff. Unfortunately, that’s how we all think. On rare occasions, we conjure up profound insights. All the other times in between, our minds are cluttered with ennui.
The author verges on the edge of soon becoming a great writer. Meanwhile he remains a good writer woefully in need of a good editor. As a prolific writer of some 23 books, he writes too darn much.
Had he or a skilled editor reduced this 275-page book down to 200 pages by deleting the 75 pages of needless digressions and tedious personal anecdotes, this would have been a great book.
Look, for example, at the 15-page bibliography. This is not an academic book in need of any bibliography, yet he pads it with irrelevant citations, for instance books of criticism about the films of Buster Keaton and about the novels of Raymond Chandler, as well as listing five 1930s detective novels by Chandler. The latter appears because in his Los Angeles chapter Nicholson serves up five pages about Raymond Chandler as he walks around the Hollywood neighborhoods where the novelist lived. The book about Buster Keaton is listed because Nicholson devotes two pages to his observations about the actor’s gait, this after the two pages about Charlie Chaplin’s gait. The two comedy film directors happen to interest me, Raymond Chandler not.
Throughout the book, to spare myself the useless ennui, I was compelled to skim passages and to skip entire pages. Yes, buy this book. It provides much food for thought and is much fun to read. Just don't read the whole dang thing. Be prepared to skip many pages at a time and you will find this book well worth your time.
According to the electronic annotation I bought this book in 2014 and read it the same year. If that is accurate this was technically a reread. However I have not one iota of memory of reading any part of it before. Certain parts were absolutely fascinating and stirred my pulse the way a wonderful stringing together of words can do. Other parts were dull, and forgive the pun, absolutely pedestrian and underwhelming. In those places it felt to me like the author was trying to make too much of nothing. I do love the idea that there is a long history of walking that have a literary and artistic component to them. It roots my own walking into something more than it really is, as well. I also like the idea that while the written words helps us to understand the world around us, walking is another way. Maybe because as much as I would wish it I am not the kind of writer that stirs the heart and helps people understand, but I am a walker . I can NOT write, but I CAN’T not walk. And it does help me understand and own my world.
I loved the subject matter. I think the subtitle got my hopes up and was a little overambitious for what is essentially a collection of personal essays. It had a healthy smattering of anecdotes about walking, and I was surprised to see just how pervasive walking is in the stories we tell, although I guess that is the point of writing about a quotidian activity. I did not know that pedestrianism was a competitive activity in the 1800s and I found those stories particularly delightful. There were parts that smacked heavily of the author's self satisfaction at his own ability to walk without believing himself superior to "non-walkers," and I wish he'd have just left it alone. The author's own musings about the relationship between walking & writing brought me right back to my college hiking & literature study abroad. The bibliography is great & will probably lead me to many of my next reads.