Simplicity and Thoreau

I'm reading Thoreau's Walden, and it imparts some incredibly good and detailed advice, mostly revolving around simplicity and thrift. People today make their lives complex with cars, boats, houses, and all sorts of complex gadgets and services that always cost more than they originally seem. Thoreau stripped his life down to the bare essentials to gain some very deep insights.

He basically tried to keep himself free of land ownership and material things, and only consumed the basics that he could mostly build or raise himself. He didn't even want to raise a cow or pig, didn't want to be tied to the responsibility of it, so, from what I can gather, he was mostly a vegetarian.

He was sort of the original naturalist, being "green" before environmentalism became cool.

Here's what Wikipedia says about his writing: His literary style interweaves close natural observation, personal experience, pointed rhetoric, symbolic meanings, and historical lore; while displaying a poetic sensibility, philosophical austerity, and "Yankee" love of practical detail. He was also deeply interested in the idea of survival in the face of hostile elements, historical change, and natural decay; at the same time imploring one to abandon waste and illusion in order to discover life's true essential needs.

It is amazing how he can write about a theme over and over again, pounding in the tenets, but alway saying something slightly different and wise.

When he went into the woods he squatted on Ralph Waldo Emerson's land (with permission), and built his cabin from the used boards of another man's house which was disassembled once his land rental expired. He bought used windows cheaply, but he bought new nails. He did all the work himself and then he had shelter. And then he planted for food, and kept only the most essential clothing, and, of course, books.

One could take some lessons from Thoreau.

I sometimes have that fantasy of going off into the woods or mountains somewhere, with just some books and time, a lot of pure time, and to be able to read and write all day, to ponder and test ideas, while carrying on only the most basic activities required to maintain vigor and health. Maybe a hike to collect firewood or berries, a swim in an icy stream, or climbing a tree to admire the view.

Thoreau said he was so deep in the woods that the birds were different. He noticed their warbles and harmonies were richer and more joyous than those of village birds.

Maybe at some point in one's life a person should go deep into the woods, at least the woods of their mind, to hear those birds they never took the time to hear before.

What a Writer Really Needs is Time

Some writers are afforded long lives and therefore have the chance to develop and contribute over a long period. Others have died tragically early, perhaps having penned one or two great ones, but they weren't able to gain their proper place in history. And there is some luck, good fortune that plays a role there.

Back when Faulkner and Hemingway were around, it wasn't so uncommon for men to die in their 60s (they both did) and still have lived a full life. Burroughs and Mailer lived to their 80s, but some of the real, real greats, like Fitzgerald, Kerouac and Oscar Wilde died in their 40s. So did Carson McCullers, who was pretty amazing herself. And then there's John Kennedy Toole, who offed himself in his 30s because he couldn't get A Confederacy of Dunces published -- and it was subsequently awarded a Pulitzer.

Wilde particularly got screwed. After his fiasco with that royal boy and hard prison time, he was finished, only writing a few sad and dark pieces and then dying in Paris. He was on track to surpass Shakespeare, I believe, and also, I don't really believe Shakespeare wrote everything he's given credit for -- not even half (and there's tons of evidence to back that).

My hope is that I am granted the time to do the work I know I can do.

Gore Vidal is Still Alive; Mailer Isn't

Gore Vidal said, "I never miss a chance to have sex or appear on television," and he's pretty much lived his life like that. I took his advice to heart a couple of times this week, but I'm still waiting on the TV moguls to call.

Recently, I watched Bill Maher interview an aged, skeletal Vidal sitting in a wheelchair. He was a hideous, scary sight, bony-faced and frail, but he still had his caustic wit. Early on in his career he said, "All writers are rivals" and, "Every time a friend succeeds, I die a little." He has outlived his rivals, Capote by decades, and Mailer, only slightly, as Vidal himself looks on the verge of death. In fact, I think that he would have been better served not to have appeared on TV in such a decrepit state.

I watched a comedian the other night say that Norman Mailer, "Drank, fought, had six wives and even stabbed the second one." He paused and said wryly, "I've never read one of his books, but I'm a big fan." Sadly, I believe this is true for most people when it comes to great writers. They've heard of them, even their books, but they haven't read them.

But what is most disappointing is that writers of note are not treated with much respect by the public in old age. No one was particularly paying attention to Mailer in his last years, Tennessee Williams was shunned and derided for decades, and many others have lived in obscurity or even poverty until years after their death when their brilliance was finally discovered. That's sort of discouraging, but if you are true to the art, you really must care only about the work itself.

Vidal also said, "Many writers who choose to be active in the world lose not virtue but time, and that stillness without which literature cannot be made," which is part of the struggle: one must survive so one must sell books, and to do so you must promote -- which takes away from the quiet and stillness needed to really dig deep and create good works.

On the other hand Vidal proclaimed, "In America, the race goes to the loud, the solemn, the hustler. If you think you're a great writer, you must say that you are."