As the majority of readers could safely say, I am sure, I have some very niche reading interests at times. Personally, I love reading about walking (and walking itself, of course!), and have been waiting to delve into Kerri Andrews’ Wanderers: A History of Women Walking since its publication in 2020. Wanderers has been introduced by Kathleen Jamie, a writer whose work I find both striking and beautiful. I do wish Jamie’s writing here was not so brief; her foreword covers just one and a half pages.
In Wanderers, Andrews has taken ten women as her focus, all of whom have lived within the last 300 years, and who have all ‘found walking essential to their sense of themselves, as people and as writers.’ The blurb declares that Wanderers ‘guides us through the different ways of seeing – of being’. Author Rachel Hewitt wrote in her review of this book: ‘Andrews unearths the forgotten women who have walked for creativity, for independence and self-discovery, to remember, to forget, to escape violence, to aid physical and emotional strength.’
The ten women featured here are Elizabeth Carter, Dorothy Wordsworth, Ellen Weeton, Sarah Stoddart Hazlitt, Harriet Martineau, Virginia Woolf, Nan Shepherd, Anaïs Nin, Cheryl Strayed, and Linda Cracknell. I appreciate the approach that Andrews has taken, in selecting some women who are already well-known for their perambulations (Wordsworth, Woolf, Shepherd, Nin, and Strayed), alongside those I knew nothing, or very little about (Carter, Weeton, and Stoddart Hazlitt in particular).
In her initial chapter, ‘Setting Off’, Andrews writes about bagging her hundredth munro, a mountain located in Scotland which stands at more than 3,000 feet. Andrews also sets out that women walking is rather a neglected topic in literature, before going on to introduce those she has selected for Wanderers. Elizabeth Carter, for instance, ‘began a lifetime of roaming as a young girl in the 1720s’; Andrews intriguingly describes her as ‘fearless and bold, and an aspiring vagrant.’
Andrews notes: ‘The meaning of walking has also changed for women writers over time, and has played different roles for women from different backgrounds… For all this richness, though, there has tended to be little discussion of women’s walking as a cultural or historical phenomenon, and less of how women’s experiences as human beings might have shaped their walking and writing, or how their walking or writing might have shaped their experiences as human beings.’
I like that a theme of Wanderers is not just walking for exercise, or to escape, but as recovery. Harriet Martineau, for example, was bedbound for 5 years ‘by a mysterious condition that left her fearing for her life. Cured by mesmerism, she measured the return of her health by the increasing number of miles she was able to cover… A move to the Lake District followed, and with it an earnest desire to become, like Dorothy Wordsworth and her brother William, entwined with the complex social, geographical and literary histories of the area.’
Wanderers is filled with such charming and enlightening details; of Elizabeth Carter, Andrews says: ‘Carter relished solitude, but also enjoyed the company of other women on her walks, when it could be had. This was a rare treat, however, as few of Carter’s friends lived nearby or came to visit her in Deal. More frequently, Carter walked imaginatively with her friends, either taking their literary works with her, or holding their conversation in her thoughts. Thus Carter rarely went walking without a woman by her side, either in physical, spirit or bibliographic form.’ Ellen Weeton, a governess, chose to largely walk alone; she consistently ‘selects the more difficult route, preferring challenge and scenery to safety.’
Sarah Stoddart Hazlitt undertook walking tours, solo, through Scotland, during a tumultuous period in her life in the 1820s. Indeed, for the earlier women focused on in Wanderers, there were rarely well-trodden tourist paths, as there are today; rather, they struck out by themselves.
To me, Wanderers sounded like the perfect book to settle down with on a hot summer Sunday, after I had finished my own morning constitutional. It absolutely met my expectations in this regard. Andrews herself is a ‘keen hill walker and member of Mountaineering Scotland’, and her passion for the subject shone through at intervals. I really appreciate that throughout, the curator of these wonderful women quoted so much from their own work. All ten of those chosen are inspiring, and a lot of them challenged conventions in myriad ways.
Wanderers is an excellent read, which I found engaging from the outset. I really enjoyed the chronological approach, which allowed some overlap between participants; I felt that such a structure worked really well here. Andrews weaving in her own walking experiences at the end of each chapter adds even more value, and ties the whole of Wanderers together marvellously. The entire book is really thoughtful, and well put together; it is definitely a great read for anyone remotely adventurous.