Offering a beguiling view of the history of walking, Wanderers guides us through the different ways of seeing—of being—articulated by ten pathfinding women writers.
“A wild portrayal of the passion and spirit of female walkers and the deep sense of ‘knowing’ that they found along the path.”—Raynor Winn, author of The Salt Path
“I opened this book and instantly found that I was part of a conversation I didn't want to leave. A dazzling, inspirational history.”—Helen Mort, author of No Map Could Show Them
This is a book about ten women over the past three hundred years who have found walking essential to their sense of themselves, as people and as writers. Wanderers traces their footsteps, from eighteenth-century parson’s daughter Elizabeth Carter—who desired nothing more than to be taken for a vagabond in the wilds of southern England—to modern walker-writers such as Nan Shepherd and Cheryl Strayed. For each, walking was integral, whether it was rambling for miles across the Highlands, like Sarah Stoddart Hazlitt, or pacing novels into being, as Virginia Woolf did around Bloomsbury. Offering a beguiling view of the history of walking, Wanderers guides us through the different ways of seeing—of being—articulated by these ten pathfinding women.
Dr. Kerri Andrews is the author of Wanderers: A History of Women Walking and the compiler of Nan Shepherd’s Correspondence: 1920-1980. She was also the consultant for the play Nan Shepherd: Naked and Unashamed by Richard Baron and Ellee Zeegen, staged by Pitlochry Festival Theatre in 2024 and 2025.
I liked the idea of this book, and I definitely enjoyed some of the chapters - but it isn’t a history of women walking. It is more an analysis of women’s writing on walking.
The book is a collection of chapters each exploring the writings of one female walker. I particularly enjoyed the chapters on Elizabeth Carter and Ellen Weston, but I have to confess that I skipped quite a few pages towards the end of the book as it just got a bit too boring. Boring because the middle chapters seemed more of an essay of literary analysis; the number of ‘ands’ an author used, the number of dashes and what this means, how many commas in relation to the number of words in the passage etc. It just leant nothing to the narrative and has nothing to do with history or walking either.
Andrews skirts on the surface of the lives of these women, without really getting into any depth about how they lived or with any context to what was happening in the world around them which would have some bearing on their experience as female walkers. More weight is given to analysing their writing, than to their stories. There is a clear absence of a “history” of women walkers too; just a collection of stories written from a small section of society.
This brings me on to the area which was most disappointing; the lack of diversity. The author says in the final chapter that there are “dozens and dozens” more women who liked to write about their walks, yet this is collection of white, middle class, presumably straight women (sexuality is not discussed). She even mentions a “cross-dressing novelist George Sand” - why on earth weren’t they included as a welcome break from the almost identical characters throughout the book?
Andrews says in the last paragraph “the omission of women from the literature of walking can no longer be justified”. I would have liked to see a broader representation of women in this book, too. I’m afraid this book didn’t do it for me, as a women who walks.
Seduced by the newspaper review I'd read of Wanderers on its initial publication, I bought this book in haste and have since regretted it at my leisure. Although Andrews is a lecturer in English Literature, the book is not an academic monograph published by a university press but is ostensibly an accessible study aimed at a general readership. Both the title and subtitle are misleading: the female subjects d0 not amble aimlessly, and the author has produced a study of a tendentious selection of very determined women walkers from the eighteenth to the twenty-first century rather than a history of female trail blazing. Her decision to focus solely on those women who not only walked the walk but also talked and wrote tirelessly about its importance and, by extension, their own self-importance proved partial and prejudicial. Counting the miles and the days makes tedious reading, and the author's frequent resort to the trite instantiation of female transgression in place of substantiated analysis became increasingly wearisome. The most interesting case-studies were those of the earliest participants, most notably Elizabeth Carter, whose lively sense of humour raises her prose and her achievement well above her biographer's. The chapter on Nan Shepherd adds nothing of any substance to the subjects's own accounts. Plodding through this book proved a harder slog than climbing my local mountain; for me it really was a race to the finish: I couldn't wait to leave the pedestrian prose behind.
>>Nachts durch die Straßen, küssend, riechend (...) Ich bin bezaubert von seinem schönen, dunklen Gesicht, seiner Heftigkeit, seiner Poesie. ...<<
"Frauen, die wandern, sind nie allein" von Kerri Andres - ein Buch, das mich mitgenommen hat auf eine ganz besondere und intensive Reise. Man ist nicht nur unterwegs mit berühmten Denkerinnen sämtlicher Zeiten, sondern spürt gleichzeitig, was das Wandern für sie bedeutet hat und wie es sich auf ihr Leben, auf ihre Arbeit und ihre Seele ausgewirkt hat. Kerri Andrews verknüpft hier für mein Empfinden auf ganz wunderbare Weise kleine Zeitzeugnisse des Wanderns, von Virgina Woolf, über Ellen Weeton, Dorothy Wordsworth und anderen besonderen Frauen der Zeit mit ihren persönlichen Erfahrungen, Eindrücken und gleichzeitig mit der Natur und dem Wandern als das was es ist: Eine Sammlung, eine Abfolge von Schritten, die mitunter zum Grund der eigenen Seele führen können.
>>...Denn erst die Sprache des Gehens vermittelte ihr ein Verständnis davon, wie ihr Geist funktionierte und dass die physische Welt, durch die sie schritt, eine wichtige Struktur bildete, in die sie ihr eigenes Innenleben auf solche Weise einpassen konnte, das beide sich wechselseitig bereicherten. ...<<
Für mich persönlich ein sehr bereicherndes Buch, das noch lange nachhallen wird und mich innerlich dem Wandern ein großes Stück näher gebracht hat und den Blick darauf verändert, wesentlich vertieft hat! Für mich war es noch so viel mehr, als ein Streifzug durch die weibliche Wanderlust💖📖
Wanderers: A History of Women Walking collects accounts of women walkers from the 18th to late 20th centuries and explores the ways that extensive walking with linked to creativity and fullfilment for each. It's worth noting that this history is limited to white women from Western Europe and North America, but isn't claiming to be complete or systematic. Each chapter focuses on a particular woman, drawing upon her own writing about what walking meant to her. I particularly liked the initial chapter on Elizabeth Carter, who joyfully rambled on her own in the mid-18th century and wrote many cheerful letters about it. Others include Virginia Woolf and Anaïs Nin. I had not heard of the majority before and found these most interesting.
Although urban walking is important for some of the case studies, especially Anaïs Nin, rural perambulations predominate. Andrews writes in lyrical and joyful style about her own adventures in the hills and mountains of Northern England and Scotland. I found this inspiring and pleasurable to read, despite my preference for pragmatic 3 mile walks to the library over battling the elements on a mountain. The point of the book is that many female writers have found walking a physically and psychologically satisfying way to explore their environment. Andrews describes herself as climbing in the footsteps of women from previous centuries. For me, walking's great appeal is that it requires nothing except reasonably comfortable footwear and sufficient energy (admittedly not always available). I find it promotes a different type of reverie to the bus or train, and does not require the relentless focus of cycling or driving. While I do not find it as transcendent as the women in Wanderers: A History of Women Walking, I enjoyed getting a glimpse of their experiences.
Wanderers explores ten women who were walkers and writers.
As an avid walker and an author, the book's description appealed to me.
Each writer expressed different reasons for their peripatetic lifestyle which often encompassed 10 - 14 miles per day. Some of the reasons for walking included: * freedom, to escape * contemplation * stimulation for intellectual pursuits * "violent pursuit of health" Elizabeth Carter * enables mental digestion that helps with writing * allows creativity to flourish * fundamental to living a rich and fulfilled life * glorious sense of isolation * comfort, pride, joy, satisfaction * able to think as large as the horizon * vitality, nourishment * sustenance
These reasons spoke to my soul. When I was co-authoring a book, I often walked twice a day so that I could think through the prose, story arcs, symbolism, and details.
I rated Wanders a three because it didn't hold my attention throughout the book and felt more like an academic exercise at times.
I highly encourage walking, jogging, running or any outdoor pursuit to clear the mind which helps creativity.
While this book really had me thinking about my own walking history and my connection to all these women who walked, and all the positive qualities provided by a life of walking, this one just didn't do it for me. It felt more like a dissertation with lots of scholarly language (and lots of unfamiliar Scottish terms), cerebral observations, and women largely unknown to me. It did make me think though, so there's that.
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.
Kerri Andrews is a British literary scholar. In her book Wanderers, Andrews presents ten mini-biographies of historical (18th-20th century) and contemporary women who a) engaged in intense and/or habitual outdoor exercise from casual leisure strolling to intense hiking, and b) wrote about these efforts, either in private correspondences that have been preserved due to their social status, or in mass market books. Andrews' premise in presenting these stories is that women have always been walkers and just as suited to ruminate and draw creativity and solace from nature as their male counterparts - which hardly seems revelatory to me. I had not heard of the majority of women Andrews profiled (including poets Elizabeth Carter and Dorothy Wordsworth, sister of William), so these parts were interesting to me, though I had heard of the more recent figures portrayed near the end, including Virginia Woolf, Anaïs Nin and Cheryl Strayed (for whom Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail is obviously her chapter's source material). I may look up biographies of some of the others for a more complete picture.
In this non-fiction ode to female walkers, Kerri Andrews introduces the reader to ten women writers who were known for their walking adventures. The ten are Elizabeth Carter (1717 – 1806), Dorothy Wordsworth (1771 – 1855), Ellen Weeton (1777 – 1850), Sarah Stoddart Hazlitt (1774 – 1843), Harriet Martineau (1802 – 1876), Virginia Woolf (1882 – 1941), Nan Sheppard (1893 – 1981), Anaïs Nin (1903 – 1977), Cheryl Strayed, and Linda Cracknell. One of the author’s main points in writing this book is to point out that women walker-writers have often not received the same level of recognition as their male peers. Each chapter covers an individual in (mostly) chronological order, starting in the 1700s and continuing through present times. Geographically, it covers parts of Great Britain and the United States.
Andrews focuses on an analysis of the writings of each woman. There is little overlap among the chapters, and tying together common threads might have created a richer tapestry. The book is not directed at walking for exercise but is more related to the ways in which being at one with nature can become a way of life and an avenue for introspection. As a fellow walker, I appreciated learning more about the relationship between walking and writing from a female perspective. I particularly enjoyed the chapters on the women who lived before the twentieth century and can only imagine how difficult some of their nature hikes would have been in the types of clothing they had to wear!
This is maybe not the best book to read during a global pandemic when travel is limited. Or maybe it is. A History of Women Walking explores the wandering lives of ten women who are famed for their walking covering a period from early eighteenth century to the present day. Hampered by convention, cumbersome clothes and risking the dangers of assault, the women, who walked vast distances alone, show bravely and tenacity in the face of such challenges. An inspiring read.
I was so excited for this book. And so terribly disappointed by it. If you like academic writing, give it a go; but this is not a “wild portrayal of the passion and spirit of female walkers”. It’s a passionless academic spew that fell short of all expectations. Only redeeming parts were the direct quotes.
Knyga apie vaikštančias rašytojas arba rašančias vaikščiotojas – kaip pažiūrėsi. Vienos išvaikščiojo kalnus, pakrančių takus arba Ežerų Kraštą, kitos – Londono, Paryžiaus, Niujorko gatves. Autorė sumaniai parinko savo knygos herojes, stengdamasi atskleisti kiekvienos savitą ryšį su vaikščiojimu, žmonėmis, prisiminimais, gamta arba, priešingai, miestu. Tekstas gana ilgesingas ir romantiškas, o aprašytos moterys įkvepiančios ir savaip artimos.
Es handelt sich um eine Art Essaysammlung, in der das Werk verschiedener Autorinnen, die selber auch gern gewandert sind bzw wandern, literaturhistorisch eingeordnet wird und festgestellt wird, inwiefern das Wandern ihre Autorentätigkeit beeinflusst hat. Ab und an ist das etwas sperrig geraten und hat viel von einem Schulaufsatz (erst das Zitat, dann die Einordnung mit Wiederholung der wichtigen Zitatteile, dann Fazit mit eigener Erfahrung der Autorin). Insgesamt hab ich viel Spaß beim Lesen gehabt, viele neue Ideen für Bücher gefunden, die ich jetzt lesen möchte und es gibt sogar am Ende des Buches noch eine Übersicht über weitere Autorinnen die zum Thema passen, es aber nicht ins Buch geschafft haben. Besonders gut gefallen hat mir, dass es auch immer wieder um feministische Einflüsse ging - Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts hat man offenbar leider genau so gerne mansplained wie 2023.
The title and description is enormously misleading. This was not a book about this history of women walking. It was a book about the history of women *writing* about walking. And whilst it could have been great - it was very dull, repetitive, uninteresting and incredibly lacking in diversity.
This book read like an A Level literature student picking apart writing for their essay or exam. Over done. Unnecessary in places. That’s no bad thing - to offer a critique of women writing about their waking, but that’s NOT what this book was sold as.
How nice it was to walk alongside kindred spirits in the pages of this book. Dr Kerri Andrews profiles 10 women for whom walking and writing have gone hand in hand, and it was so very interesting to get to know them all. I often search fruitlessly for answers as to why I have the intense need to wander. This book was a good reminder that I don’t need a reason, I just need to lace up my boots and continue to be authentically me.
I would have loved to like this book, since the topic seemed relevant but I was profoundly bored and not able to finish the book. Even though societies limits on women are sometimes adressed, it is rather a book about a bunch of women, from similar social status and backgrounds, who between the 18th century and now have written about walking and the impact of their walking on their writing.
4 1/2 stars. The author of this book provides us with 10 accounts of women writers and how they used walking to hone their craft. It covers 300 years and is set in chronological order beginning with Elizabeth Carter and ending with Linda Cracknell. There is a really nice mix of well known authors like Virginia Woolf and Cheryl Strayed and lesser known ones (at least, to me). The authors' reasons for walking are also a mix - there's everything from exercise to contemplation, inspiration to seeking satisfaction for an accomplishment. Some like walking the empty countryside and mountainsides while other prefer the bustling cityscapes. I found this to be a fascinating look into the lives of these female writers . I also very much found it to be an inspiration for my own walking game. I'm inclined now to use walking less for stress relief and exercise and more as a path to creativity. A great read in Spring!
I enjoyed this book - partly because it was a thesis I had never really given much thought to - and partly because I have been a lover of walking (particularly long overnight walks).
I had never really stopped and thought about women in the 18th and 19th centuries wanting to do long outdoor walks, scale mountains, enjoy the freedom of being in the wilds of nature. I hadn’t thought much about the challenges for women walkers in those days (or had I assumed there were no women walkers?) And I hadn’t linked in my mind the effect of a walking life on a writing life - the sub-text of this book.
I appreciate the way Kerri Andrews has opened my eyes to a new world and will reflect more on the links between my own walking and the rest of my life. 7/10.
Ich wünsche mir, ich hätte dieses Buch mehr gemocht.
Die Idee war wunderschön. Ich selber bin eine begeisterte Wanderin und Läuferin und konnte mich mit vielen Gefühlen, die die Autorin und „ihre“ Frauen empfanden und beschrieben, identifizieren. Dennoch konnte ich mich mit der Ausführung nicht anfreunden. Kerri Andrews hat eine umfangreiche Recherche durchgeführt und Frauen gefunden, die das Hobby Wandern aktiv betrieben und darüber in Briefen und Büchern berichteten. Ich will gar nicht wissen, wie viel Stunden alleine auf die Recherche gefallen sind. Im zweiten Schritt hat Kerri versucht den Geschichten dieser Frauen einen Rahmen zu geben. Einerseits hat sie den persönlichen Werdegang durchleuchtet und andererseits hat sie die verfassten Texte detailliert analysiert. Am Ende jedes Kapitels kam dann noch eine kleine persönliche Zusammenfassung und eigene Erfahrung mit Wanderungen, die Kerri selber gemacht hat und die sie an ihre Heldinnen erinnerten.
Wie schon erwähnt, die Idee war wunderschön. Leider scheiterte es für mich an der Ausführung. Ich konnte mich einfach nicht mit der Art und Weise, wie Kerri die Texte analysierte, anfreunden. Ihre Interpretation und ständige Wiederholung dessen, was die Frauen selber geschrieben haben, haben mich sehr schnell gelangweilt bis irritiert. Es erinnerte mich an meine Zeit am Gymnasium, als im Deutsch-Unterricht nur einige Seiten von „wichtigen literarischen Werken“ auf mehreren Seiten analysiert und interpretiert wurden. Irgendwann habe ich dann angefangen immer mehr und mehr Passagen zu überspringen, weil ich an diesen Interpretationen selber nicht interessiert war und… naja, das war der Anfang vom Ende.
Dazu muss allerdings auch erwähnt werden, dass ich aufgrund von der befristeten Leihfrist dazu gezwungen war schneller zu lesen, als mir lieber gewesen wäre. Ich kann mir sehr gut vorstellen, dass ich mit mehr Zeit einfach nur längere Pausen zwischen den Kapiteln eingelegt hätte um dieses Buch langsamer genießen und verdauen zu können.
Im Großen und Ganzen war es daher keine enttäuschende, aber auch keine durchaus gelungene Leseerfahrung.
An insightful and inspiring book focusing on selected female walkers throughout history who have written about their walks. I particularly enjoyed reading about Dorothy Wordsworth, William's sister who was the first writer to publish an account of ascending Scafell Pike in England's Lake District, a peak John and I climbed in the 80s. But there is so much in the book to love and be fascinated by. Sarah Hazlitt's walking log alone is a marvel since she regularly hiked 20 and 30 miles at a time. Even Dorothy W could hike 17 miles in under 4 hours. We like to think our fitness regimes are so modern, but in fact they are age old. If anything, some of these women could handle way more distance and climbing than many I know, and certainly much more than me. Beyond, all that though is an exploration of all the gifts and rewards of walking when mind and body are yoked.
I really wanted to like this book because of the theme and the research that's gone into it. But it was a DRAG. Reminded me of my old A level English lit essays where you overanalyse the grammar and punctuation in an exerpt, trying to draw meanings from uses of commas that weren't intended, in order to up the word count.
I felt the book couldn't decide whether it was literary analysis/criticism or just biographical accounts, the latter of which would have been much more welcome but only occurred in a couple of chapters. If I have to look at one more set of inverted commas today I'm going to bang my head against a wall.
Part an exploration of the author's own experience of walking and part literary criticism of various women authors who walked. Not quite as engaging as I'd hoped, some of the chapters were like extended précis of the authors original books, which is what I was told to avoid when writing essays in my English degree. I would have liked more consideration of what walking meant to these women and how experiences have changed through the years, alongside consideration of the difference between men and women walking.
I thought I would love this. Women. Walking. Sounds great, but since I have been trudging though this since September (7 months!) I think I need to concede this is way too pedestrian for me (no pun intended!). If you enjoy a slow walk uphill only to be met with a view obscured by fog, jump in! You'll love it!
This will be the first in many books I will read of stories of women who walk. Although seemingly a simple topic (what's the big deal, right?) Andrews points out right away that we know the writing from men who walked and reveled their experience (Wordsworth, Walden, etc). Women however, have gotten nary the attention. This book showcases ten women, some I had heard of such as Cheryl Strayed and Virginia Woolf; and others I had not such as Ellen Weeton and Harriet Martineau. In all the stories, Andrews uses incredible research to at times, put us right in the womens' paths, shoes, and words. Many of the women (Nin, Shepherd, Woolf) were writers and their walking not only fueled their creativity, but was absolutely necessary for their work. This book made me want to read even more about women who walk. There is an appendix at the end that provides even more women to read about that specifically chronicle either their writing journeys or it was central in their writing. I already have a couple of these books on order because reading about walking fuels my desire to walk more. I've always enjoyed walking, and this book made me understand why. For my last point, a theme in most of these stories was a concern that women have had while walking since the oldest story in the book, 300 years ago. That is, walking alone due to the potential of sexual assault. I remember when I first read this being surprised. Then being surprised that I was surprised. Then being grateful and given just a bit of courage from these accounts of women that knew walking was their lifeline and were hell bent on not being stopped regardless of the risks. And then lastly, a sense of sisterhood that could walk with me at a time that is both safer and more dangerous than the time they walked. The reason for 4 stars versus 5, although a glowing review, is that sometimes I did feel a bit of the stories veered a little off path (excuse the pun). I think I had an idea of what the book would be going in, and it was a smidge different, and thus I would get a little frustrated at the history versus the narrative that I wanted to read. However, I would read it again and knowing that this is a "History of Women Walking", hello, I would give it 5 starts likely if reading if from that perspective. I hope that makes sense.
This was an interesting read about the history of women authors walking as inspiration for their work. Men have traditionally been associated with waking and writing, and the history of women walking, being welcomed into spaces by other women to hear their stories that men could not access, and sharing a different perspective and history of the world has mostly been erased or at least not talked about commonly.
The author follows ten women whose writing was inspired by walking throughout history, from the 1700s to the present. She does a good job of refuting the myth that women did not or could not walk and write (because of their vulnerability as women, because of the cultural norms of the time, etc) while also naming the privilege or life circumstances that did allow some women this freedom.
The book included many excerpts from each woman’s writing, which was interesting, but for some reason the book didn’t really come alive to me. There felt like some distance, and although stories and writing excerpts were shared from each woman, they blended together in my mind and didn’t feel very distinct until the present day examples. Many of the women were from the UK so maybe my ignorance of the geography took me out of the book a bit. By the time the tenth loch was mentioned, that a few of the women had visited at different times, I was a bit disengaged.
It was a good primer and has gotten me interested in reading Rebecca Solnit’s book about walking along with Robert Mcfarlane’s book that was mentioned. I had also somehow relegated Cheryl Strayed’s book Wild to a nonfiction version of chick lit in my mind (maybe because of the cover art or maybe because Reese Witherspoon plays her in the movie), but I’m now really interested in reading her book after getting a chapter on her in the book.
Great topic- grateful the author is contributing to this topic- it has gotten me interested, even if I wasn’t always super engaged in this book.
This read like an English paper rather than a deep dive into the experiences of women who walk. I fell asleep while reading it-in the middle of the day- at least 5 times. It was so dry at times that I just skimmed it. I know the author says at the very beginning that this is not going to be a diverse book, but I wasn’t expecting it to be as narrow in focus as it was. There’s not even a section about women who walk for water all day, every day or women who walked back and forth across the Mason-Dixon Line shepherding enslaved people to freedom against all odds or even a nomadic woman in the modern full-time RV or full-time thru hiker sense of the word. It was disappointing to keep reading what felt like the same story in the same general places. I like Cheryl Strayed but she didn’t even finish the PCT. What about Carrot Quinn, the young queer woman who both finished the PCT and wrote a book about it? The author talks about how Strayed’s menstruation was inconsequential in comparison to her walking pain, but Carrot Quinn was forced to free bleed during her hike of the PCT and the salt crystals in the blood scraped her thighs raw. That is the kind of thing I hoped this book would be about. I was really excited about this book and I was disappointed. To be honest, I feel a little duped by the description the publishers gave it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.