Saturday, March 11, 2006

In defense of Henry David

Jenny Chang wrote:
"If I could hit you with a thousand copies of Civil Disobedience, Walden, Little Women, The Scarlet Letter, every fascicle of angst-ridden writing I could find out of my basement, and whatever the hell else came out of our 'crazy little shit town', I would. WOW. Guess who's NOT coming to Providence in 9 days to visit Bryan!!!!"
It seems to be in style nowadays to trash Emerson, Thoreau, and all the other authors we were forced to consume in large quanitities for high school American Lit. Even upon reading "Walden" just last year, Alan reported back to say he was unimpressed by the founder of civil disobedience's writings about his oh-so-profound stay in the backwoods of my very own Concord, Massachusetts.

Personally, I remain thoroughly IMpressed by Thoreau's progressive thought at a time when ideas of civil disobedience, vegetarianism, spirituality minus organized religiousity, abolitionism, and general hippie-esque harmony with the natural and social worlds around us, were regarded by the majority as extremist and, frankly, stupid.

I don't speak for Hawthorne (not concordian) or Alcott (embarassingly concordian), but what is angsty or irrelevant about Thoreau and Emerson? Not really into their writing? Fine. But I remain proud of the fact that these guys came from my little town. Guys who understood they didn't have to agree with their government's actions, that people spend so much time worrying about our small little lives that its easy to lose sight of our role in nature, our role as moral human beings. Love 'em or hate 'em, "angsty" seems an insult to a couple of concerned citizens looking for ways to affect positive change in their society and had the courage to write and speak out about it.

Jenny, if you don't like the "angsty," then by all means, read up on the Scarlet Letters of the world as they enforce the beloved puritan status quo. The beauty of New England is that despite the stodgy puritans like Hawthorne that once owned this town, it has now emerged as a hotbed for progressive thought that as often comes from crazy isolated bookworm farmers as the urban intelligentsia. This current state comes from a path blazed by the Emersons and Thoreaus of yesteryear, so please think again before making fun of the pond I've so often used as the site of my own transcendental musings, and that we've both swum in, pissed in, and loved.

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