Express and Say Only After You Know
I consider myself a writer above most other descriptors. The clever turn of phrase, the moving image, the salient metaphor- these things please me. Thoreau is a writer as well, and a very serious one at that. The first time I read Walden, I was disappointed, actually, by most of the imagery he used. He isn’t painting wonderful vistas with his words, merely describing what he saw, sometimes with flourish but oftentimes not. That wasn’t what I expected from a novel meant to exalt nature, which is pretty much synonymous with beauty.
This reading, though, I came across a passage that put the entire thing in a new and interesting light.
Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass- this was my daily work. (105)
Here, Thoreau’s language is more what I was expecting from him in terms of description and imagery. But, more than that, I was struck by the verbs he uses. The soil express summer, the earth say beans- as if Thoreau is coaching the ground in speech, helping it to shape its language. In order to coach one’s desired meaning out of words, one must know words inside and out. So, then, if Thoreau is shaping the land in some way for his own purpose, he must know it in the same way.
Throughout the middle section of Walden, we see Thoreau doing all he can to become thus acquainted. In “Solitude,” “Visitors,” and “The Village,” he is trying to learn who he is and who the people around him are. He enjoys going to the village because he can people watch, and Thoreau finds himself studying the people of the village just as intently as he does the creatures of the forest where he lives. He seems philosophical in these sections because his overarching questions are enormous ones about human nature itself. This musing about the nature of mankind recurs in other chapters, as when he discusses the animal versus divine man. He presents portraits of the woodcutter and of John Field as case studies of two different types of people and ways of living. Case studies are meant to provide in-depth information into a specific topic. (They’re not supposed to be generalized, which Thoreau seems to do, but this is a digression.)
Thoreau’s work in “The Bean-Field” is meticulously documented. He describes the hours in which he works and small details like if he’s wearing shoes and charts his financial information. He flat-out declares “I was determined to know beans” on page 108- he wants to know them intimately, doing all the physical labor from planting to eating by himself.
The result of this same quest to know the environment can be seen in how he talks of the bird species he watches- he can tell exactly how different varieties of hawk swoop through the treetops- and the types of fish he encounters in Walden Pond. The pond itself, and its neighbors, also get this treatment. Thoreau knows the shoreline, how it differs on each side, when it will flood, where sunken logs and other objects are located. He spent two full years out among these environs, so his knowledge is vast and specific.
This is the same way a writer must know words. He uses them continually, always writing and trying out new combinations. He observes the pattern of the words to see which arrangements work best, the same way Thoreau can see the large ecological patterns in the woodlands ecosystem. The writer must also know each word individually, and all its nuances, like Thoreau can pick out tiny details like water skaters on the surface of the otherwise-smooth Walden Pond. Both in equal measure allow the writer to be successful, like both Berry’s patterns and Burroughs’ details let the nature writer do so.
It is those beans, and the soil in which he is planting them with his hands and sweat and immensely personal effort, that Thoreau is able to write so eloquently about in the quote I used to open this post. He knows them inside and out, and so he can use them as symbols of striving in general, and write about them in such a way that he can make a point, while staying true to the beans’ essence. He also writes beautifully about Walden Pond, calling it a gem and a mirror, using it to measure men and their values. This pond is a space where he has spent time in his youth and in his middle age, and he spends hours at a time on its banks or its surface- he knows the pond like he knows the beans.
So what if Walden’s start might be a little slow? The reader, like Thoreau, has to acquaint himself with the setting in order to appreciate Thoreau’s metaphors that involve it. I think that, now we’ve seen Thoreau becoming intimately familiar with most of the aspects of his woods, he can do even more in terms of metaphor and symbol and, as he did the soil, get the entire Walden Pond environment to express and say his meaning for him.
This reading, though, I came across a passage that put the entire thing in a new and interesting light.
Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass- this was my daily work. (105)
Here, Thoreau’s language is more what I was expecting from him in terms of description and imagery. But, more than that, I was struck by the verbs he uses. The soil express summer, the earth say beans- as if Thoreau is coaching the ground in speech, helping it to shape its language. In order to coach one’s desired meaning out of words, one must know words inside and out. So, then, if Thoreau is shaping the land in some way for his own purpose, he must know it in the same way.
Throughout the middle section of Walden, we see Thoreau doing all he can to become thus acquainted. In “Solitude,” “Visitors,” and “The Village,” he is trying to learn who he is and who the people around him are. He enjoys going to the village because he can people watch, and Thoreau finds himself studying the people of the village just as intently as he does the creatures of the forest where he lives. He seems philosophical in these sections because his overarching questions are enormous ones about human nature itself. This musing about the nature of mankind recurs in other chapters, as when he discusses the animal versus divine man. He presents portraits of the woodcutter and of John Field as case studies of two different types of people and ways of living. Case studies are meant to provide in-depth information into a specific topic. (They’re not supposed to be generalized, which Thoreau seems to do, but this is a digression.)
Thoreau’s work in “The Bean-Field” is meticulously documented. He describes the hours in which he works and small details like if he’s wearing shoes and charts his financial information. He flat-out declares “I was determined to know beans” on page 108- he wants to know them intimately, doing all the physical labor from planting to eating by himself.
The result of this same quest to know the environment can be seen in how he talks of the bird species he watches- he can tell exactly how different varieties of hawk swoop through the treetops- and the types of fish he encounters in Walden Pond. The pond itself, and its neighbors, also get this treatment. Thoreau knows the shoreline, how it differs on each side, when it will flood, where sunken logs and other objects are located. He spent two full years out among these environs, so his knowledge is vast and specific.
This is the same way a writer must know words. He uses them continually, always writing and trying out new combinations. He observes the pattern of the words to see which arrangements work best, the same way Thoreau can see the large ecological patterns in the woodlands ecosystem. The writer must also know each word individually, and all its nuances, like Thoreau can pick out tiny details like water skaters on the surface of the otherwise-smooth Walden Pond. Both in equal measure allow the writer to be successful, like both Berry’s patterns and Burroughs’ details let the nature writer do so.
It is those beans, and the soil in which he is planting them with his hands and sweat and immensely personal effort, that Thoreau is able to write so eloquently about in the quote I used to open this post. He knows them inside and out, and so he can use them as symbols of striving in general, and write about them in such a way that he can make a point, while staying true to the beans’ essence. He also writes beautifully about Walden Pond, calling it a gem and a mirror, using it to measure men and their values. This pond is a space where he has spent time in his youth and in his middle age, and he spends hours at a time on its banks or its surface- he knows the pond like he knows the beans.
So what if Walden’s start might be a little slow? The reader, like Thoreau, has to acquaint himself with the setting in order to appreciate Thoreau’s metaphors that involve it. I think that, now we’ve seen Thoreau becoming intimately familiar with most of the aspects of his woods, he can do even more in terms of metaphor and symbol and, as he did the soil, get the entire Walden Pond environment to express and say his meaning for him.