Customer Reviews

A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers

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

 

 

It's a sinuous read, this book. Like the river it is modelled on, it curves nicely in some parts, elsewhere stretching into long expanses that can enthrall or bore. Read it as a journey. Read it as the development of a unique mind that is purely American. Read it as an elegy to a long-dead brother. Don't read it as "Walden: The Beginnings," for that only leads to disappointment. Take the trip. When Thoreau shakes his stick at you, shake back. When he looks too long at the world around him, speed him along. Remember that he is young and youth is impetuous; forgive him his mistakes; ignore the editing. Revel in the voice, and the implicit strength of mind married to depth of thought that will eventually find its rightful place in _Walden_.

Thoreau sought the seclusion of the pond to write *this* book, not _Walden_. In 19th-century terms, this treatise is a modified travelogue based on a 13-day boat trip that Henry and his brother John took in 1839. By today's standards, contemporary editors and many an English teacher would decorate this manuscript with red ink and admonish the author that he strays too often and too far from the main subject. Bill Bryson's essays wander too, but he doesn't usually reach back and quote the Bhagavad-Gita, Homer, Chaucer, or Shakespeare. But whenever Henry takes in his surroundings, he is reminded of something else, and before you know it a serious discourse is off and running, and it has nothing to do with floating upstream or down. He expresses his opinions or offers his knowledge about fish, mythology, religion, poetry, reading, writing, history, government, traveling, waterfalls, friendship, love, life, nature, art, dreams, and science. He reminisces about a previous trip to the Berkshires and a sail down the Connecticut River. He breaks into poetry at whim -- sometimes his own words, more often someone else's. Along the way, the brothers paddle from Concord, Massachusetts, to the area around Concord, New Hampshire, and then turn around and go home. We meet some of the people they encounter along the way and get a glimpse of New England life during that time period. In some respects, the people and the land haven't changed much at all. We can see Thoreau's environmentalism when he talks about dams and their effects on the habits and habitats of fish -- concerns that are still with us today. We can laugh at his puns and enjoy his wordplay (i.e., "The shallowest still water is unfathomable" and Man needs "not only to be spiritualized, but *naturalized*, on the soil of earth.") Above all, we can explore these rivers and shorelines during a time period that we will never see personally, with the aid of a native naturalist who's in the habit of sharing his observations and thoughts.

Read _Walden_ first. And if you find you enjoy Henry's take on nature and civilization and life and living, pick up _A Week_. There are a few gems lurking in here that you might connect with.

Lately, I've come to really like the writings of Thoreau. It has taken me several years to return to this author...after being forced to read excerpts from Thoreau at a ridiculously fast pace during high school. Little time to read and less time for reflection left a bad impression of Thoreau in my mind that has, as I said, only recently been overcome.

But now, upon my return, I have found "A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers" by Henry David Thoreau to be a very invigorating book...one to be savored and not read too quickly. Taken at a good pace, it has been a joy.

While transcendentalism still strikes me as a rather facile and egotistical philosophy, I have really come to see and appreciate the mystical quality in Thoreau's works. Like most mystical authors, Thoreau is not always engrossing--he is actually rather tedious in points, but his work is punctuated by passages of sheer brilliance.

Seeing nature through Henry's eyes has been a wake up call to me personally. This book breathes excitement and lust for life upon the reader. Even his long winded discussions of different kinds of fish serve to alert me to my own lack of wonder. This world, even in its current subjection to futility , is still a wonderful creation. Nature (and Thoreau's picture of these rivers especially) echo the declaration of the Psalmist: "The heavens are telling of the glory of God; And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands" (Psalm 19:1).

I highly recommend this wonderful book.

This book, written in Thoreau's younger years, conveys the exact opposite impression that The Maine Woods, which I reviewed here, does. In The Maine Woods, Thoreau has lost almost all his mystical and poetic instinct. He is, if I may put it this way, a mere Naturalist (albeit a good one). This book, even more than Walden, conveys Thoreau's youthful exuberance and intimations of another world. The only thing I can compare its finest passages to is Proust. Particularly on music, "It teaches us again and and again to trust the remotest and finest as the divinest instinct, and makes a dream our only real eaxperience." Compare this to Proust's speculation that music consists of the inhabitants of a diviner world and points us to immortality. Thoreau, again, says, "These things imply, perchance, that we live on the verge of another and purer realm, from which these odors and sounds are wafted over to us."-Moreover, the book is fun and Thoreau is still full of impish mischief, as exemplified when a man asks him if he is a PROTESTANT, and Thoreau, after thinking over the true meaning of the word, assures him that he is!-This is a fun and, moreover, ethereal book which all Walden lovers must read.-I'm not sure what happened to Thoreau in his later years, when he wrote in his journal, "This is the vilest world I've ever lived in."-But never mind this later melancholy for now, take a romp down a couple rivers and enthuse yourselves with calls from another, "purer" world!

This book is a record of a trip that Thoreau took with his brother, John, on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers in 1839. Although it certainly contains commentary about what the two brothers saw and did during the trip, this is hardly a travelogue. The book was written not immediately after the journey, but 7 years later, following the death of John. Indeed, it was written while Thoreau was living in his cabin on Walden Pond, as a kind of memorial. But even as a memorial, it's a bit odd, in that Thoreau is extremely careful to keep John's identity anonymous throughout the book.

The brothers took their leave of Concord one Saturday afternoon in 1839, in a small rowboat. They rowed down the Concord River to Lowell, then turned up the Merrimack, where they commenced to row up river as far as Hookset. Upon reaching Hookset, they visited for a week (a week whose events are not discussed in this book), then turned around and retraced their route to Concord. Thoreau provides a detailed account of how they spent their days. However, since much of the days were spent rowing, they had plenty of time for silent contemplation, so much of Thoreau's material presented here are the thoughts that came into his head as they rowed. The topics covered were quite varied, ranging from fishes, literature, poetry, the Bhagavad Gita, philosophy of history, King Philip's War, climbing expeditions in the Berkshires, New Hampshire geography and history, morality, natural philosophy, Goethe, and Chaucer. There are also extensive essays on friendship and religion.

This is the most explicitly philosophical of Thoreau's books. Nevertheless, naturalists and those interested in local New Hampshire history will also find material of interest. I found Thoreau's excursis on his personal religious beliefs (which he presents as a quasi-Sunday sermon) to be highly engaging.

This book is not Walden, as another reviewer has pointed out, but it does show what the young Thoreau was thinking as he and his brother took a week-long boat trip on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers. To read this book is to read the thoughts and observations and challenges of a person who is growing into himself. If you would like to see what young Transcendentalists were thinking and doing in 1839, near the very beginning of the movement that would flower in the 1840s, this book is a leisurely introduction.

Book was as usual a good readable copy with cover damage but intact and consistant with description and used copy ordered. very satisfied from a thoreau collector and a spare copy as to not damage the original old other copies that i have. good job.always a dependabe source for my needs.much thanks for honesty and quick shipment.

This book, written in Thoreau's younger years, conveys the exact opposite impression that The Maine Woods, which I reviewed here, does. In The Maine Woods, Thoreau has lost almost all his mystical and poetic instinct. He is, if I may put it this way, a mere Naturalist (albeit a good one). This book, even more than Walden, conveys Thoreau's youthful exuberance and intimations of another world. The only thing I can compare its finest passages to is Proust. Particularly on music, "It teaches us again and and again to trust the remotest and finest as the divinest instinct, and makes a dream our only real eaxperience." Compare this to Proust's speculation that music consists of the inhabitants of a diviner world and points us to immortality. Thoreau, again, says, "These things imply, perchance, that we live on the verge of another and purer realm, from which these odors and sounds are wafted over to us."-Moreover, the book is fun and Thoreau is still full of impish mischief, as exemplified when a man asks him if he is a PROTESTANT, and Thoreau, after thinking over the true meaning of the word, assures him that he is!-This is a fun and, moreover, ethereal book which all Walden lovers must read.-I'm not sure what happened to Thoreau in his later years, when he wrote in his journal, "This is the vilest world I've ever lived in."-But never mind this later melancholy for now, take a romp down a couple rivers and enthuse yourselves with calls from another, "purer" world!

I am as big a fan of Thoreau as there is (I've given 5 stars to 3 of his other books), but I am sorry, this one is just a bit too wordy. Thoreau rambles a lot in this book, there are places where a few paragraphs of descriptions of his trip are followed by pages of wandering thoughts. Maybe I am not at the point to truly appreciate his writing yet, but I do think this book does have its weakness. Written before Walden and other volumes, I think at the time Thoreau hadn't yet mastered the craft of seamlessly blending his thoughts and philosophies with narratives and descriptions. If the relative weights of the actual trip narrative and his rambling thoughts were reversed, I think this would have been a much better book (and he would have sold a few more in his lifetime too!)

[From Boating on the Catawba...in the
"Musketaquid"]

I will take the definite role of the
Nay-Sayer in the long line of aficianados
and idolators who insist that *Walden* is
Henry David Thoreau's masterpiece...
I will simply state that this work and
"Life Without Principle" are his great
contributions to literature, thought, and
value...

Take this quote from "Life Without Principle"
(before I get to 'A Week...'):
"To speak impartially, the best men that
I know are not serene, a world in themselves.
For the most part, they dwell in forms, and
flatter and study effect only more finely
than the rest. We select granite for the
underpinning of our houses and barns; we
build fences of stone; but we do not ourselves
rest on an underpinning of granite.
we do not teach one another the lessons of
honesty and sincerity that the brutes do, or
of steadiness and solidity that the rocks
do. The fault is commonly mutual, however;
for we do not habitually demand any more of
each other."

If that is not "preaching," but in the
sense of a prophet, not a mere sermonizer,
then there hasn't been any in a long time.
But Father Mapple's sermon in 'Moby-Dick' is
right up there with it.

If I had only known of Thoreau [and I had
not read much of him (and little then)except
at the University] and had to believe that
Thoreau was just what he seems to be in
'Walden,' then I would have given the man
short shrift...because there is not enough
of any sort of heart or soul in that work
to believe that he is even human. But
fortunately, a Thoreau worshipper (or rather,
*Walden* worshipper) forced me, by his own
imperious egotism, to try to understand this
man Thoreau and his views. It is fortunate
that I did, for I discovered 'A Week....'

This Penguin Classics edition is excellent
in a number of ways -- the two most important
being the notes in the back which explain the
allusions, and ancient Latin and Greek sources
and excerpts(for those who might not know them)
which Thoreau quotes and sometimes translates;
and the incredible "Introduction" by the editor,
H. Daniel Peck.
He can say his wondrous words himself:

"There is good reason for 'A Week's open
acknowledgment of the attritions of time
and loss. Conceived initially as a travel
book, 'A Week' was immeasurably deepened into
an elegiac account of experience by a tragic
event that occurrred in Thoreau's life in
the period following the 1839 voyage. In
1842, Thoreau's companion on that voyage,
his brother John, died suddenly, and in
agonizing pain, from lockjaw.
Without question this was the greatest loss
that Thoreau ever was to suffer. (He seems
to have undergone, in the aftermath of his
brother's death, a sympathetic case of the
illness that caused John's death, and the few
entries that appear in his journal in this
period are desperately mournful.) Interestingly,
though the pronoun 'we' characterizes the
narrator often in the book, the brother's
name is never mentioned -- an indication perhaps
of Thoreau's enduring need to distance himself
from this loss. there is nothing in 'A Week'
that directly refers to the death of John Thoreau.
Instead, his memory is evoked through various
symbolic strategies. For example, the long
digression on friendship in the chaper
'Wednesday' surely is intended to reflect the
intimacy Thoreau shared with his brother. Even
the ubiquitious 'we' of the narrator's voice
speaks to this intimacy. So intertwined are
the two brothers' identities in this pronoun
that it is often difficult to tell whether a
given action has been taken by Henry or John,
or both at once."

"To emphasize the elegiac aspects of 'A Week'
is to remind ourselves that throughout Western
history, rivers -- and voyages upon them --
have served as metaphors of transience and
mortality. Yet, as I indicated earlier,
'A Week' is not solely a mournful book. Its
rivers also support a spiritual buoyancy, and
provide the setting for exploration and adventure.
Most important, however, the book's larger
structure enables it to 'transcend and redeem'
the individual losses that it recounts."

[wonderful writing here!]
"In general, the outward-bound voyage of 'A Week'
dramatizes the writer's encounter with time and
its losses; on that voyage, he pays close
attention to the shore -- which, in its discreet
scenes of spoliation and historical change,
symbolizes the passage of time. The homeward
voyage, on the other hand, suggests assimilation,
resolution, and renewal. If the primary mode of
perception on the outward voyage had been
observation (of the shore), then the primary
mode of the return voyage is contemplation.
Now we are involved in an inward exploration,
and, symbolically, our vision leaves the shore
and returns to the river and the flow of
consciousness that it represents."
-- H. Daniel Peck; "Introduction."