Review by New York Times Review
THE ACT the French philosopher Frédéric Gros describes in his athletic new book, "A Philosophy of Walking," has more in common with what Americans call hiking and the French call la randonnée than with what they are likely to think of as simply "walking." But for Gros this is the only kind that matters: City dwellers can only ever be "strollers," stretching their legs in fragmented moments between street-crossings. Gros's true walker leaves the pavement far behind. Less organized than a sport and more profound than a voyage, a long walk, Gros suggests, allows us to commune with the sublime. Through sheer force of continuous effort, the views we contemplate become more beautiful than if we had simply pulled over by the side of the road to admire them. By physically covering the terrain, we make it ours: The beauty of the world is inscribed in us, and we in it. We shed our identities in the course of the long, rhythmic move on two legs across the landscape, Gros says; all other ambitions fall away as we give ourselves over to the transformative powers of physical exertion, which pulls us more strongly to earth yet enables us to slip the bounds of our bodies, so that we become "almost" as unconscious as a "tumbling dead leaf." If this is starting to sound like a hybrid Hindu-Buddhist philosophy of walking, that's exactly where it's headed. Invoking the pilgrimage diaries of Swami Ramdas, Gros explains that "it is when we renounce everything that everything is given to us, in abundance." The book's final description is of speed-walking Tibetan monks called lung-gom-pa. But the path to enlightenment also leads through the West. In chapters on Nietzsche, Rousseau, Rimbaud, Thoreau and others, Gros considers the inspiration they each found in walking. Nietzsche even advised, aphoristically, "Do not believe any idea that was not born in the open air and of free movement." Gros takes this to mean that books bear in their very DNA the circumstances of their conception; we can tell when they have been composed entirely at a desk, their authors hunched and squinting over a stack of books. Gros is in search of higher truths than those found in libraries: "There are thoughts that can only occur at 6,000 feet above the plains and mournful shores," he rightly points out, and if his prose gets a bit purple from time to time, maybe it's because it was composed on one of those peaks where the oxygen's a bit thin. Unlike Gros's, my own philosophy of walking is about the pleasure and stimulation of the city. Far from being an encounter with capitalist systems of "information, images and goods," as Gros insists, urban walking in fact offers a million invitations to become anyone we want, totally for free. Personally, a long stretch of country leaves me as bored as a blank wall, which means I can't quite regard what Gros is up to with anything other than awe mixed with skepticism, the way I think of people who make their own bacon. Impressive, but not for me. The joy of walking transcends setting; it engages the mind as well as the spirit. Some great walkers don't like there to be buildings in their way, and that's fine for them. Others of us just can't do without the buildings. LAUREN ELKIN is the author of "Flâneuse: The (Feminine) Art of Walking in Cities," to be published in 2015.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [December 14, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review
Philosopher Gros ponders walking, that most mundane mode of transportation or exercise, elevating it to its rightful place in inspiring creativity, evoking freedom, and quieting a troubled soul. Whether taking a leisurely wandering stroll or a purposeful trek along an assigned path, when walking we are reduced to a moving two-legged beast, momentarily detached from obligations. Beyond his own perambulations, Gros evokes the wanderings of Kerouac and Ginsburg. Nietzsche walked to restore his health and get release from debilitating migraines, until he could walk no more. Rimbaud walked Paris to release his creativity. Nerval walked to ease his melancholy. Rousseau found inspiration only when walking, pondering memories and dreams. And of course, Thoreau walked to commune with nature and meditate. Gros examines the creative philosophies of these writers, artists, and thinkers so deeply influenced by the simple act of walking. He also examines the long journeys, pilgrimages, and protest walks of so many others in this fascinating look at the not-so-simple act of walking.--Bush, Vanessa Copyright 2014 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
In this meditation on the mental pleasures and requirements of walking, French philosopher Gros (Michel Foucault) focuses on long walks among nature, where even if "fog shrouds the mountains or rain starts to fall in sheets," the walker must forge ahead. On such journeys, one throws "off the yoke of routine," leaving the confines of the office for the freedom of the road, where creativity can ferment. Such trips call for slowness, allowing "every hour, every minute, every second to breathe, to deepen." They also require solitude to find one's basic rhythm, the pattern "that suits you, so well that you don't tire and can keep it up for ten hours," although small groups allow for company without the need for disruptive conversation. In between these ruminations are chapters on philosophers, writers, and activists well-known for their walking habits: Nietzsche, whose long walks in the Italian hills helped his crippling headaches; Kant, renowned for his daily five o'clock walk in any weather; Rimbaud, who travelled to Paris several times as a teenager, mainly on foot, then spent his last few years in the desert, "walking towards the sun"; and Gandhi. who spent much of his life walking around India, fighting for independence. This elegant book inspires consideration of an oft-overlooked subject. (Apr.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Library Journal Review
Nonspecialist readers may at first be intimidated by this work of pedestrian philosophy by Gros (philosophy, Univ. of Paris), which includes discussion of prominent philosophers such as Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Immanuel Kant, and Friedrich Nietzsche. They need not be. The writing and ideas are clear, accessible, and witty and should be approached by anyone with an interest in walking for fun, for leisure, or as a mechanism for creating thinking. Gros mixes personal essays and musings, both short and long, with more serious academic investigations on the influence of walking on some of the most eminent thinkers in history. The subjects are far reaching: from the simple wander in the garden to more intense (and lengthy) pilgrimages. Gros ponders whether walking is a sport (it isn't) and whether it is better to walk together or alone, fast or slow (answer: it depends). -VERDICT Despite taking on some weighty philosophers, this is an easy, light read that will delight and inspire anyone who has ever enjoyed a good stroll.-Robert C. Robinson, CUNY (c) Copyright 2014. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
