“The Orange and Other Poems” by Wendy Cope

I may not be a poet but

You’ll humor me, I hope

Or get to know a better one: 

Her name is Wendy Cope

She wrote a little poem called 

“The Orange” (short and sweet)

I read its mirror image

Through a window by my seat

I’d never even heard of it

Until that very day 

But when I read “The Orange,” well,

I knew what I would say: 

“Please sir may I have some more?”

I’d like to own the book 

I don’t mean to be greedy but 

I had to have a look

And I’m so glad I asked to get 

A copy of my own

I surely don’t regret it and 

I know I’m not alone

I read it as I rode the train

From Waterloo to Surrey 

Enjoying every moment of the trip

Without a worry

Sometimes it was funny

Sometimes it was sweet

But always, like “The Orange,”

It was good enough to eat 

I tried to take my time and think

Tasting as I read 

I related to the poems

As the words flowed in my head

I really loved this little book

Of that you can be sure

And when I turned the final page

I wished that there were more

Buy this book of poems

Smile and savor it

Open it and start to read

You’ll never want to quit.

“Walden” by Henry David Thoreau

Walden was on a long list of books I have always intended to read, most of which appear there purely because, for whatever reason, I feel I should read them. So when I came across this cute little palm-sized copy on Amazon last fall, I figured the time was ripe. And it really is a pretty little book, with gilt-edged pages and oak leaf endpapers. 

As tiny as the book appears, though, it still contains 351 pages, and I soon found that it was not to be swiftly devoured. Instead, it requires focus, concentration, contemplation, and time. But just as I could not absorb great swathes in one sitting, I also found I needed to read more than a page or two at a time. I finally settled into a good rhythm: I read ten pages each time I picked it up. 

Thoreau's main idea in Walden is to live simply and wisely, remaining free and uncommitted for as long as possible. If you work hard, you have to eat hard, so it's better to work less and eat less (and spend less, and need less). He points out that many are "spending the best part of life earning money in order to enjoy a questionable liberty during the least valuable part of it." In fact, he went to the extent of suggesting (tongue-in-cheek, surely?) that one might live in a coffin (okay, so maybe he didn't call it a coffin, but that's certainly what I pictured when he described a 3'x6' box) in order to avoid paying rent or having a mortgage; without such debts, one is afforded more free time. (It is worth noting that the cabin Thoreau built on Walden Pond was larger than 3'x6', though 10'x15' is far from palatial. It is also worth noting that Thoreau only lived there for two years.)

He does have a point, though, when he states that men have become the tools of their tools. I love my home, and I take care of it accordingly, but I do spend far more time in doing chores than I would if I lived in a coffin . . . and it's good to keep in mind that the present shouldn't be eclipsed by the drive to earn money for a hypothetical future. I prefer, though, to build on that thought by incorporating a little bit of "the good life" (i.e. retirement) into my everyday working life, along with the perspective that we should do the most good while we are the most able.  

Thoreau takes the theme of self-sufficiency to an extreme, but I find him too isolationist. Widespread implementation of his ideals would be tremendously inefficient. Division of labor is necessary in an advanced culture. And while he is correct in saying "the man who goes alone can start today; but he who travels with another must wait until that other is ready," there are benefits--including joy--in traveling with another (literally or metaphorically). Even Thoreau himself did not sew or mend his own clothes. (Were these tasks beneath him?)  

Thoreau also really slags off "easy reading," which happens to be one of my greatest joys in life, causing me to briefly toy with changing the name of my blog to Easy Reader. But in the end I decided that my blog would then be too easily mistaken for one about books for Kindergarteners.  

For all the philosophy and deep thought, there is, of course, just as much in the way of beautiful descriptions of nature, so I will leave you with one of my favorites: 

"It is glorious to behold this ribbon of water sparkling in the sun, the bare face of the pond full of glee and youth, as if it spoke the joy of the fishes within it . . . "