Customer Reviews

Epitaph For A Desert Anarchist: The Life And Legacy Of Edward Abbey

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(1)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

"We shook hands once, but I never knew him personally, and I have mixed feelings about that. I would have liked to argue with him over cheap cigars and good tequila by a blazing river campfire under a sky full of stars. But then, this would have been a different book, more of a personal memoir." James Bishop, Jr. Despite misgivings of not knowing Edward Abbey personally, Bishop has written a superb book on the legend of desert anarchist Cactus Ed. It is a well-researched, no-holds-barred, truthful expose of the mind, musings and legacy of an outrageous, outspoken man who was devoted to preserving the American Southwest wilderness for himself and a select few who would truly understand, preserve and love it unequivocally. Bishop, a polished and professional writer of many years with Newsweek, leaves no saguaro thorn or blossom untouched in his thorough and objective rendering of the subjects life, personality, writings and still living legacy. Often labeled the "Thoreau of the American West," the talented and tenacious Abbey was the promoter of ecodefense and ecosabotage; advocating anarchy to prevent the government and tourist industry from ruining the wilderness. In his twenty-one published books, the most popular being "The Monkey Wrench Gang" and "Desert Solitaire", Abbey shows to have been a determined, cantankerous, frustrated and angry, yet unique and colorful persona. Many detested him; especially those who were to receive financial gain from developing, paving or civilizing the west for tourism or the development of power plants at the cost of damning nature, pun intended. Abbey, certainly a master wordsmith as well, expounds a continuous theme: a surly hatred of progress and dogmatic devotion to wilderness preservation. If the admirable and perplexing Abbey could be summed up in one word, it would have to be curmudgeon; applying his wrath and logic at will depending upon mood and provocation, yet one with a delight of stirring motions within others and then impishly standing back to watch the results. Abbey's theme and writing niche was discovered early in life; the constant rebellion to progress, pomp and formality were seemingly intentional. Despite his denial and distaste for finances, both theme and writing paid well. "Love of wilderness" Abbey wrote in Desert Solitaire, "is an expression of loyalty to the earth which bore us and sustains us, the only home we will ever know, the only paradise we ever need --- if we only have eyes to see." In his constant struggle to protect the environment from the government, developers and ourselves, Abbey's The Monkey Wrench Gang implies his fictional delight in openly seeking to enrage others to the point of "monkey wrenching" the governments Glen Canyon Dam Project by damaging equipment or floating dynamite-filled boats to the dam while the ribbon cutting ceremony was taking place. As long as no one got hurt and he, admittedly the one who didn't have the courage to pull the plug or press the handle setting off the dynamite, it was fine with him. So open was Abbey in his determination of stopping progress that the FBI had agents assigned to watch and report on him for most of his adult life. Alas, the struggle of Abbey and his devotees to prevent what many called necessary "growth and progress" was as futile as those who in present day blame Columbus for the genocide of native Americans and eventual take over of two entire continents by Europeans and others. It was and is, inevitable. If Columbus didn't do it, someone else would have. The environs of Abbey's Southeast Utah stomping grounds of the 1950s, resembles little of what it is today, and, regretfully, nothing of what "growth and progress" will deem its state and existence a hundred years from now. We come, we see and, for environments demise, we conquer. Anyone interested in understanding more of Edward Abbey, need only read Desert Solitaire, written in 1968 from essays he wrote in the mid-50s while working as an isolated National Parks employee in Arches National Monument near Moab, Utah. "This is the most beautiful place on earth." Abbey wrote, yet he ended his employment there after two seasons due to the monument becoming "developed and improved so well that I had to leave." The reader seeking complete insight of the unique and complex Edward Abbey should read Epitaph of a Desert Anarchist. "Any writer who is dead and still raises hackles must have done his work properly," eulogized fellow writer and friend Chuck Bowden. Abbey and Bishop have both done their work well.

What a wonderful book! Reading it was like sitting with the author and talking about Ed Abbey over a couple of beers. Bishop's style is so smooth and relaxing. He could give a lesson to all current biographers: we don't need to know everytime the subject had tea with someone or tied his tie over the course of 800 pages! It was just the right mix of disscussion of his life and his books. The last chapter, "Farewell..." was very moving. Edward Abbey was a man I would have loved to have known personally because he was so interesting and caustic, and especially because I don't always agree with him, which makes an interesting mix. I have read 2 novels and 1 book of essays of Abbey's and look forward to reading everything else he has written. A real nice job by the author.

James P. Bishop, Jr. has created a vivid and real picture of a great man who was as human as the rest of us. I most enjoyed how Abbey's contrariness has been captured. After reading this book, not only do I feel I've come to know of Abbey in some small way, it has given me a greater appreciation for the American Southwest and the need to speak out against government intervention. Written with frank truth and compassion ... a rare combination.

... certainly his legacy does, and both the man and his impact of the human and physical environment have been brought to life by James Bishop in this lively biography. Almost all biographers have a degree of empathy with their subject, and this is true of Bishop, but he does not gloss over Abbey's faults, which, even for his closest friends, could be infuriating. For example, at the beginning, Bishop says: "... so-called radical environmentalist who threw beer cans out of car windows (he hated paved highways), who advocated population control (yet fathered five children), and who loved the wilds (yet lived in the city)..."

Bishop presents a good mixture of the man, as well as his written works, with the most famous being "Desert Solitaire," about the year he spent in Utah as a park ranger, and "The Monkey Wrench Gang," his novel that inspired radical resistance to the relentless march of development (and is no doubt the main reason one has to pass through a metal detector when one visits Glen Canyon Dam.) As Abbey said about growth for growth's sake, it is the "ideology of a cancer cell." Abbey was never a gentle critic, with a polite, "but on the other hand,": "To oversee its aristocracy of over grazers, clear-cutters, strip-miners, widespread operations, this aristocracy employs a corps of flunky journalists, who manage the regional TV stations and newspapers, and a regiment of Quisling politicians." And that was only a small sample, so it was only natural for Bishop to ask the question, which he does: "Did he really believe what he said, or was he a poseur, doing it for money? Unquestionably, Abbey delighted in the put-on, the adolescent nose-tweaking, the hoodwinking..."

Based on numerous writings and comments, Abbey has been justly labeled a misogynist, so it was an important balance when Bishop included a meeting between him and a fellow Southwestern writer, Barbara Kingsolver. She was dreading the meeting, but came away impressed with his manners, et al. (at least on that day!)

I think Bishop best captured the contradictory spirit of Abbey when he said: "In many of Abbey's obituary notices, he was labeled as a cantankerous, misanthropic curmudgeon with many enemies. Abbey would have appreciated that, for his definition of a curmudgeon was anyone who hates hypocrisy, shame, dogmatic ideologies, the pretenses and evasions of euphemism--anyone who has the nerve to point out unpleasant facts, who takes the trouble to string those facts on the skewer of humor and roast them over the firs of empiric truth, common sense, and native intelligence. In this nation of bleating sheep and braying jackasses, he said, `it then becomes an honor to be labeled curmudgeon.'"

There is an important "companion" biography of Abbey, written by Doug Peacock, entitled "Walking it Off.," published 10 years after this work. Peacock is the Green Beret Vietnam war medic that Abbey modeled his character, George Washington Hayduke, after, in "The Monkey Wrench Gang. The later bio is "uptight and personal," and therefore not strictly a bio. In that book, you learn even more reasons to dislike Abbey, including the fact that he might have been able to live a number of additional years if he had sought medical treatment for his condition. And this was when Abbey had a wife with two small children. And I'm sure Peacock would agree with the familiar aphorism: "No man is hero to his valet."

But the rating should be on the quality of the biography, and not the quality of the man. Bishop captured the spirit and drive of the man, and his impact on the rest of us, while never losing sight of the flaws. It was well-written, and covered matters sufficiently, yet not to exhaustion. A well-done 5-stars.

The author states that Edward Abbey died of an incurable pancreatic disease. This is completely wrong. Edward Abbey died from esophageal varices (varicose veins of the esophagus), specifically from the hemorrhaging caused by them. However, Edward Abbey was initially diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, so perhaps that's where the author got his idea. Douglas Peacock, in his book "Waling it Off", about his friendship with Abbey, describes the condition and Abbey's death.

But one glaring mistake - oh well. I loved Edward Abbey's writings; loved his passion, agreed with so much of his beliefs and his pro-wilderness stance, so I'm prepared to be forgiving of this book, since I like to read anything about Abbey.

I am sorry that the money was spent to give this book to me as a gift. It is not well researched and not well written. If you have bought everything that Abbey wrote, read it all, bought everything else, read them all, gone back and read at least Desert Solitare and Down the River again, then have to be able to say "I've read everything by and about Abbey"; well then you might, but only might, consider this book. Even then try to borrow it. In fact, I'll send you mine if I haven't tossed it. I have been an Abbey fan for years, not always agreeing but always admiring the point of view. This book was truely not worth my time, I am somewhat amazed that three other people thought it was. Oh well, just as you can say this about me I'll say it about them, there's no accounting for taste.