Customer Reviews

The Lost Art of Walking: The History, Science, and Literature of Pedestrianism

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Geoff Nicholson's exceptionally well-written book is a fascinating compilation of every aspect of walking. He enthralled me with tales of literary, eccentric, competitive, political, moon, inventor, artistic and recreational walkers...detailing many of their remarkable feats. His walking experiences and unusual people/things he's seen were delightfully described. I was intrigued by interesting walking tours, expeditions, journeys, songs with "walk" and walking scenes in movies. Mr. Nicholson astounded and entertained me with his impressive knowledge of walking! Amusing stories and trivia provided many laugh-out-loud moments. I really, truly loved this book because it greatly enhanced my cognizance of walking. Many of Mr. Nicholson's insightful comments gave me alot to think about. My favorite is...simply going for a walk is an invitation to a surprize! I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THIS READ!!

This book borrows copiously from many recent books on walking and other subjects, notably Rebecca Solnit's books on walking (Wanderlust: A History of Walking) and Eadweard Muybridge (River of Shadows, 2003) and then takes a nasty swipe at her, perhaps for getting there first. It appears to be yet another attempt to ride Ian Sinclair's coattails, and Sinclair writes far more entertainingly about London and walking. The book is a jumble in which the author's personality and anecdotes about himself are intrusive and often off-topic. The Los Angeles Times's reviewer wrote: "Nicholson claims that the "true London walker" is "usually . . . a he" (no explanation given) and declares Patsy Cline's rendering of "Walkin' After Midnight" to be "deeply problematic," stating that "earlier, more prudish sensibilities than ours couldn't imagine what any woman would be doing in the streets after midnight unless she'd become a hooker."The historical difficulty of women to navigate public spaces is an interesting topic that receives serious attention in Rebecca Solnit's far superior 2000 book, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking.""

Don't look for some great hidden message in Geoff Nicholson's lively and all-encompassing survey of the ways we undertake one of the most fundamental human actions: walking. There isn't one. Instead, this gifted writer, who admits that he goes for walks wherever he finds himself -- Los Angeles, the southwestern desert, London -- to both ward off depression and help him to write, takes his readers on a compelling journey through the world of walkers.

Starting with the nature of the word "walk" itself, and ending with significant journeys of all kinds (from epic walks across Africa and walking on the moon to how Albert Speer kept himself sane during his years in prison by pacing off the distance between Berlin and Heidleberg), Nicholson's book is a joy to read. It is crammed full of the kind of anecdotes and tales that make your eyes open wider (did you know that an avid walker discovered the idea behind Velcro because of his walks?) and sometimes cause you to laugh out loud. He points to his favorite "walking songs" (and notes that Aerosmith's 'Walk This Way' is really about sex, not walking), and his favorite walks in movies (Fred Astaire strolling through Paris in Funny Face makes the grade, for instance.) Street photography and psychogeography come in for their share of attention, too. His knowledge feels encylopaediac, but he never sounds pompous. Rather, the reader ends up feeling Nicholson's urge is to share these tidbits to spread the enjoyment around rather than to show off.

Particularly intriguing is the lost art of competitive pedestrianism, a phenomeonon of the 18th and 19th centuries during which its practitioners undertook such feats as walking one mile an hour (and only one mile each hour) for a thousand straight hours. Nicholson explores these characters and then tries his own 15-hour challenge in the English countryside, despite fearing that his neighbors may summon the police or conclude he is insane.

Ultimately, Nicholson does draw some kind of lesson out of his ruminations on walking; that it is a kind of metaphor for life itself. "There'll be missteps and stumbles, journeys into dead ends; the reluctant retracing of your steps. And you have to tell yourself that's just fine, that it's a necessary and not wholly unenjoyable, part of the process. It's an exploration." But as with any good walk, this unsurprising revelation isn't the point -- it's all about the journey. And Nicholson has taken us on a delightful one.

Overall, one of the best in what I think of as the "Who Knew?" genre, books devoted to quirky subjects that people didn't even know they were interested in until they read them.

I'm a walker, and I really, really wanted to like this book. It got off to a great start but that actually turned out to be a rut. In the end, each chapter turns out to be little more than a list. One may be focused on places people walk and another on ways people walk and a third on why people walk, but each chapter winds up as a glorified list with a bit of insight or commentary but not nearly enough to balance out the structural repetition. Nicholson had a great idea for a magazine article. Too bad someone decided to turn it into a book.

What we have here is a quick read that makes you want to slip on your shoes and head out for a stroll, a jaunt, a hike or, if you're feeling a bit droopy, perhaps a saunter around the block.

"The Lost Art of Walking" details some of the more exotic preoccupations that have consumed walking aficionados over the years, such as the once-popular practice of strolling one mile per hour for 1,000 consecutive hours.

That may not sound like much until you realize that it left little time for sleeping, eating, or much of anything else, and then only in short snippets. Think about it. Fifteen minutes on foot, followed by 45 minutes of down time, followed by 15 minutes pounding the pavement, followed by a 45-minute break, etc., for 1,000 hours. Rather grueling, actually.

One way around that "dilemma," it turns out, was to carefully orchestrate the walks to create larger blocks of free time. Here's how it worked. If you walk for 15 minutes at the very beginning of the first hour and then wait until the last quarter of the second hour to hit the streets yet again, you can squeeze in a 90-minute break between the two walks.

Still, a very odd obsession, if you ask me. The phenomenon struck me as yet another example of our mind-boggling penchant for wasting time, which can be especially problematic for people who have compulsive personalities.

I found the author's accounts of his own rambles in London and elsewhere far more interesting than some of the more esoteric information about walking that is included in the book, which reads like a sometimes awkward blend of memoir, history and trivia.

The end result, for me, was an entertaining but uneven and poorly focused look at the sometimes not-so-simple pleasure of putting one foot down in front of the other. Not surprisingly, considering those shortcomings, "The Lost Art of Walking" did a better job of holding my attention at some points than at others.

It did make me want to get out there and hoof it, though, so that's a plus.

The Lost Art of Walking: The History, Science, and Literature of Pedestrianism
If you have about four free hours available you could either read this book or go for an extended walk. Provided your surroundings are sufficiently inviting and it is a pleasant day, you may prefer the walk.

Nicholson is not promoting walking as a social cause. He believes we cannot expect grand changes in people's willingness to walk when they have more convenient alternatives available. He says that he himself walks not because it is environmentally correct, but because it keeps him sane and it helps him write.

The book is a ramble, a wandering. Do not expect systematic accounts of the history, science, philosophy, or literature of pedestrianism, as the subtitle suggests. Instead, what you will get is a potpourri of ruminations, many only tangentially related to walking, held together only by the thread of Nicholson's own idiosyncratic preoccupations.

Fortunately, Nicholson seems to be an interesting fellow, one you might want to accompany on a good walk. His polished and lightly humorous essay style keeps things moving.

Some of the author's material comes from his own walks. I found his chapter on walking in Los Angles more compelling than those on New York and London, perhaps partly because walking in Los Angeles is not an activity that is often commended. It will help sustain your interest if you are at least vaguely familiar with his featured locations.

Nicholson also draws from literature, film, music, photography, and painting. A few of his choices may enhance your understanding or appreciation for walking; most likely will not. He writes in an ironic tone about several concept art endeavors that have involved walking, in some cases only marginally, at best.

There is a chapter on the accomplishments of several notable obsessive walkers, the kind whose achievements we might read about in a book of world records (I think it is to Nicholson's credit that he resisted entitling this chapter "Walking Feats"). Unless you are quite well-versed in this history of eccentric walkers already, you will probably be amused or astounded (or both) by at least a few of them.

The book includes a possibly useful bibliography. Nicholson provides the web address if you would like to view over 60 photos (of people, mostly) he has taken on his walks.

I am 70 and like books on walking. I started out a few years ago with a pedometer and a desire to walk 10,000 steps a day. Then I raised it to 10,500 and now to 11,000. I was looking for any book that might give me a new slant and encourage me to walk even more and enjoy it by employing a new approach, etc., etc. But this book (to me) was a complete waste of my money and time. It was rambling and incoherent but, more important than that, I found it so boring I didn't even finish it. I'm not an accomplished writer or reviewer but I do have a short message if you're trying to decide whether to get this book or not--DON'T!!!! I'm a voracious reader and for me not to finish a book is very unusual. I'm probably not being totally fair but I feel ripped off.

In some ways, Nicholson is a lot like Bill Bryson--a British/American with a rambling anecdotal style full of tangents and fun facts. As the title suggests, the book is about walking. Nicholson skims some walking-related science, addresses a number of famous walkers throughout history, but mainly just talks about himself. He is especially fascinated by those who performed great feats of walking for no reason in particular.

"The Lost Art of Walking" could have been a lot better. But it could have been worse, too. Despite the lack of solid content, Nicholson manages to carry it along with his funny, engaging tone.

I ordered this book sight unseen after reading a favorable review in one of my favorite magazines The Economist. I have always been a huge fan of walking - seeing the world from 5+ feet, moving on at a pace that allows one to engage and disengage at will.

What I ordered this book I hoped to see something on physiology, psychology or philosophy of walking. Instead, this book treats one to a high-speed flow of consciousness - any which thought that flits into the author's mind as he walks goes straight onto the page. The man has an active mind, and the book runs at a pace of a noisy blender.

Now that I had the book in hand, I looked at the dust cover blurbs:

"...demented charm" - Michiko Kakutani, The New York Times
"...not for the faint of heart" - Stephanie Zacharek, Salon.

Wow! When a major reviewer calls a writer demented and the publisher puts that on the back of the book, that is bizzarre, to say the least.

I am sure the author has his audience, and there will be people who'll love this book. Like chewing gum or watching game shows, it will take you away from your life and into another reality. My copy, however, is going right back to amazon.

With a keen and wizened eye for dissecting the world around us, Nicholson draws us into a kaleidoscopic world built on something natural yet ephemeral to all of us. Walking, to Nicholson, is both the puzzle and the answer. He's our guide in an Alice-In-Wonderland-type stroll through human nature, history, cultures and personal lives that leaves us breathlessly climbing the last steep hill with his Mother on her own last journey.

Granted, the title of the book, "The Lost Art of Walking: The History, Science, Philosophy, and Literature of Pedestrianism" leaves the author little choice but to fall short in writing an encyclopedia of facts, legends, and suppositions that tie into the simple act of self-propelled forward motion. However, he succeeds at drawing out the curiosity and want of self-knowledge in all of us. More to the point, walking is a wonder in and of itself and something worth pondering.

Nicholson writes in a very easy-to-read conversational style that makes you feel you are walking along with him as your mind overflows with ideas and trivia. Much of this is brain-candy such as picturing eccentric characters like Mudman, an artist that performs "art walks" covered in mud and attending Conflux "psychogeographic" events that are all about walking the terrain in New York City. But there are many "Wow!" moments that make up for the excess drift. For example, did you know that filmmaker Werner Herzog, when he heard German star Lotte Eisner was gravely ill and likely to die, walked from Munich to Paris as an act that he believed would somehow will her to live? She lived another 9 years! And, its hard to beat the sardonic wit of Captain Oates of the famous Scott South Pole expedition, when he realized that he had become a frostbitten burden on the crew, and politely took his last walk into an Antarctic blizzard saying, "I am just going outside and may be some time."

I wished this book contained more on the science of walking - from the physiology to the psychology of walking. For better or worse, sports (even walking or hiking) have become a science to study. We certainly know more today about what makes up a quality running performance, for example. Why not walking? There must be far more individuals walking for exercise than running. I think the book's audience would have appreciated more useful information and less trivia. Although, to be fair, I don't believe this is the author's intent. He only briefly approaches walking as a sport or discusses its specific benefits as an exercise. Unlike 100 years ago, when "pedestrianism" was an actual sport, it rarely, if ever, gets attention of any kind today.

Nicholson is at his best when he makes his subject personal. He draws an interesting parallel between walking and writing. Words are like steps. A daunting walk can be compared to writing a daunting manuscript. A walk often takes you to unexpected places and observations. Writing often has its own obstacles, detours and unexpected ideas. Both are forms of exploration that should embrace the unexpected as part of the process.

I confess an interest in the mystery of walking and how a larger population under certain circumstances can embrace it. This intriguing possibility cause me to buy this book as I have been researching the story of the 50-mile Hike Phenomenon which occurred in 1963 during JFK's era. I share Geoff's belief that there is more to walking than we think. It is as an expression of who we are and often who we want to be.

Read this book to gain a new insight to the world around you. Admire Nicholson's passion. He loves and lives his subject. Here is a clarion call to us to remember where we've walked - from our first steps as a baby, to steps in personal victory and then to our final steps. As long as man has been around, walking has been embedded in our lives. We may take walking for granted and even try to replace it with modern conveniences, but it will always be an essential part of what makes us human.