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368 pages, Paperback
First published April 20, 2015
Why should anyone actually stop coring out the last of our lands, sucking up the last of the gas, damming the rivers? It’s what we have always done. We came upon this country of plenty and took everything we could get our hands on. We didn’t care what got in our way: native people, geography, climate, logic, whatever. We rationalized this as a kind of brave, bold, can-do way of being, and in some cases it really was. But in many cases it was, and remains, about greed. In many cases as raiders, pure and simple, we remain.
Cocky as a rooster. I told myself--you are an artist. An adventurer. A human man. Not some shoe store clerk, kneejerk liberal or kneepad Tory, insurance adjuster or group-encounter therapist or assistant professor of data processing at a vocational tech school. No androgyne with retracted balls & frightened pizzle. So I told myself: Arise, piss, pull on pants & boots. Build a fire.But with all of that, after drifting away from graduate school at Stanford, Abbey spent years "frittering away, playing the flute, reading Dreiser in the Utah desert, serving as a menial fire-lookout in Arizona, thinking of himself as the next Thoreau, drinking & wenching". Always, in the back & occasionally at the forefront of his mind was a desire to become a writer. Even when he begins to develop the craft of a writer, it is said that "he makes no distinction between the serious & the comic, the temporal & the eternal--mixing puns & meditations, ontology & fart jokes."

it may be an overstatement, but let's try this one on: we read wallace stegner for his virtues, but we read edward abbey for his flaws. stegner the sheriff, abbey the outlaw.