Friday, October 10, 2014

Revision 1

Olivia Fan

To Hate or not to Hate: An exploration of Misanthropic messages in “Desert of Solitude”

In his book “Desert Solitaire” Abbey displays distrust for “humanity”. He describes it as misanthropic. He expresses it directly and also indirectly through the use of story telling. How does Abbey define “humanity” exactly? Throughout the book Abbey has a theme of duality, so it only makes sense that Abbey would have two definitions for what he calls humanity. Readers could misinterpret him for a bitter introvert who hates people. When in actuality Abbey would love to have family or friends with him at some points. He does not hate people or necessarily humanity, but rather the warped society that we have created. Therefore Abbey is not as misanthropic as he thinks he is just frustrated with cultures ability to change.
            You could not say that Abbey hates people. In his chapter Cowboys and Indian part two he directly states that he gets lonely he says “that the one thing better than solitude, the only thing better then solitude is society” (Abbey 97). He then goes onto explain that his definition of society is not a city, but a group of friends or family. Abbey makes it very clear that he is not a people hater. He appreciates people their qualities and the relationships you can build with them. His loneliness is also expressed by his displacement of qualities he misses from humanity onto aspects of nature. These small descriptions make it seem impossible for Abbey to hate Humanity either.  He says later in the book, “I was accused of being against civilization, against science, against humanity. Naturally, I was flattered and at the same time surprised, hurt, a little shocked. He repeated the charge. But how, I replied, being myself a member of humanity (albeit involuntarily, without prior consultation), could I be against humanity without being against myself, whom I love - though not very much…” (244). Abbey is clearly picking fun of himself here, but the ideas and his shock are true he never meant to come of the way he did. Abbey does not hate people or humanity. What he does hate is the destructive culture we have some how taken on.
            In Omohundro’s article “What is Culture?” he describes the seven characteristics necessary for culture.
            “1.Cultures are integrated
            2. Cultures are products of history.
            3. Cultures can be changed, and the can cause change.
            4. Cultures are strengthened by values.
            5. Cultures are powerful determinants of behavior.
            6. Cultures are largely composed and transmitted by symbols.
            7. Human culture is unique in complexity and variability” (Omohundro 36).
For Abbey not all of these are deterrents in every culture. Abbey really only hates the rapid change in consumer culture that has started. To get even more specific the roots of Abbey’s hatred are focused on numbers 3 and 5.
            Abbey is clearly able to discuss this general hatred for our evolving culture through many little rants and short stories. He shows a clear hatred for anyone who disrupts or destroys the natural order of nature, but Abbey never attacks any specific person instead he attacks groups. He attacks sub-cultures of our consumer culture. The groups he rants against are the businessmen, tourist, shepherds, and the government. All of these titles are cultural constructs. He says that sheepherders are “as hog-rich as they are pig headed” (31). He thinks that their persecution of the wolves is ridiculous if one whole pack could be supported on one sheep, and they don’t need the money. He continues on with his hatred of consumer destruction by describing the industry that national parks are becoming. He dislikes the tourist industry because they are disrupting nature. He believes everyone should vacation to a national parks, but not interfere just observe. In his chapter Rocks he describes the greed of prospectors as they mined for rocks. For Abbey these people have done nothing wrong he blames the culture for dictating their behavior. This falls under category 5. Omohurdro discusses this and says, “Culture is powerful because much of what we have learned is beneath our awareness, or has become a comfortable habit…But sometimes we step out between the bars of our cage and do something alternative, deviant, unique or creative. All of us break some of the rules sometime” (Omohundro 38). For Abbey traveling to the wilderness and working at Arches is his break from the cage before he goes back to New York City. He is able to look back at the cage we live in and criticize us for getting trapped in our consumerism. He believes everyone needs to take vacations in nature just to get some perspective. Abbey says, “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.” He is saying human civilization is cutting off the origins of humanity. He wants us to defend our humanity against our culture.  
           In his chapter Down the River he is more direct about his feelings. He starts off by belittling the government witch he refers to as the “Beavers” for building a damn and flooding the Glen Canyon (151). He hates it because it was and interference that ruined the canyon witch he refers to as “Eden” (152). This dam is made even more offensive because of its lack of purpose. This is an example the pointless progress Abbey hates. He goes on a journey to see the dam and afterwards is so angry he discuses the idea of misanthropy. Misanthropy is a distrust or disdain for Human nature. He mentions other writers who were also clearly dissatisfied with humanity. He then goes on listing all the things he hates about humanity “ The useless crap we burry ourselves in”, “The domestic routine”, “Crafting cheating”, and “Slimy advertising of business men” (Abbey 155). However, Abbey is not saying the people who are businessmen are slimy and the people in domestic routine are pathetic, but is criticizing the social construct of these things. He does not hate humanity and the people who occupy its roles, but the conformity and consumerism we have all been taught to honor as progress. Abbey also says, “Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread. A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself.” He is saying human civilization is cutting off the origins of humanity. He wants us to defend our humanity against our culture.
            In the chapter Cowboys and Indians Abbey describes how both groups are disappearing. Cowboys disappear to the modernized food industry, and the Indians to tourism. He says “Cowboys and Indians disappear, dying off or transforming themselves by torturous degrees into something quite different. The originals are nearly gone and will soon be lost forever in the overwhelming crowd” (Abbey 111). There is a certain amount of sympathy Abby makes us feel for these dying cultures. These culture which were once American Icons. This ties into requirement 5 of Omohundro, but also 3. Omohundro explains that the only thing constant in culture is change. Abbey calls this change progress, and thinks there is nothing worse. He is able to make readers feel slight disgust with a country that claims to be accepting of many cultures, but ends up killing them off. That is the nature of our society though we live in a culture where ideals are always pushed out and progress is always made. Yet we can see it’s not all culture he hates just our tendency to progress, change, and shift as a nation to the newer and shinier trends, but in particular shifting this way without the consideration of how conformity will affect our environment and older traditions.

            The ending is where you realize Abbey most defiantly doesn’t hate humanity. Abbey ends up leaving his life in the desert for a life in New York City witch at first seems surprising, but he is going to be a volunteer caseworker. He is not only going to be the defender of humanity, but because he misses civilization. He says, “After twenty-six weeks of sunlight and stars, wind and sky and golden sand, I want to hear once more the crackle of clamshells on the floor of the bar in the Clam Broth House in Hoboken. I long for a view of the jolly, rosy faces on 42nd Street and the cheerful throngs on the sidewalks of Atlantic Avenue… I grow weary of nobody’s company but my own” (265). Abbey goes back to a big city in order to get in touch with humanity again. Omohundro would say he is re-entering his cage in society. For these reasons I don’t think Abby is misanthropic. There is a clear distrust for our culture because of it powerful influence over our actions and it’s rapid-fire shifts, but none for human nature. He wishes for us to preserve our human nature against the corruption of our culture.


Bibliography 
Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness. New York: Touchstone, 1990. 

Omohundro, John. Think Like an Anthropologist: A Practical Introduction to Cultural Anthropology.  McGraw-Hill, 2007. 

Creative essay on Abbey: Revision

Meaghan Duffy
10/10/14
English Composition
Dr. Adam Johns

The Fiction in Non-Fiction

I awake suddenly to a series of crackles followed by a loud thump.  I wipe my tired eyes and force them open to see nothing but a dusty haze surrounding me at all angles.  I slowly roll over on my stomach to face where Abbey had been camped out for the night, slightly nervous to find out his state of being. 

It has been exactly two weeks since Abbey got the news of his relocation, and he has not yet come out of the lethargic comatose state that it had put him in.  At the beginning of fall when dusk and dawn were a little cooler than usual and the wind began to pick up speed, an orange rusted Ford pick-up truck unexpectedly approached Abbey’s trailer delivering a sealed mustard yellow envelope with a rather thick stack of papers inside.  Upon opening, Abbey learned that he was going to be relocated to Yosemite National Park, California in exactly a month from the day due to a severe, “lack of tourism,” in Arches which made his position, “unnecessary,” and a waste of, “government funds.”  Arches National Park was to be renovated, adding more accessible roads and convenient parking lots throughout, to make the area more accessible and travels easier and more convenient for families.
Abbey refused to do his duty rounds around the park for an entire week and neglected to acknowledge any visitors who requested entry into his trailer.  Out of nowhere, after not speaking to Abbey for several years since he began his quest of solitaire and personal rebirth separate from human dependence, I received a call from him asking me to join him out in the park; I reluctantly accepted. 


“Abbey,” I yelled over the noise of the bulldozers and cranes directing themselves through the seemingly empty desert. His flashlight, water bottle, harness, boots and jacket were exactly where they were left last night, but his person was missing.  He says he hates it all, all the manmade gadgets, yet he can’t live a simple life out in the desert without them; it’s unnatural and foreign to humankind and he’s no exception.[1]

“God damn it!” I flinched as I heard his deranged tone screech from practically right behind my ear.  I flung around now in a seated position to see Abbey hunched over the twisted juniper tree trunk, which I was under.  His face was pale and longer than usual; his breath sounds were loud and more frequent than normal. 

“What’s going on,” I asked confused, partially because I was still half asleep and partly because I could barely see past the thick clouds of debris filling my airways and clogging my pores.  My question was one that Abbey could rant on about for years.  He could talk about how humans ruined everything.  He could be controversial or hypocritical, narrow or broad-minded, but no matter how many words left his mouth it wouldn’t change anything because our fate was inevitable; that’s at least how I saw it. 

“The elitist corporate men are beginning the renovations!  They’re starting by butchering the junipers to create a parking lot for the spoiled tourists incase they want to park and walk for a little while instead of driving the whole way through in their gas-guzzling box cars.  They think they’re fixing all the problems and attracting tourists by adding roads, detours, parking lots and eye catching sites for the visitors to drool over, but in reality all they are doing is destroying the natural beauties of the park which were created way before man, and were meant to remain as such.  Every living and nonliving inhabitant of this desert will be gone, but I’m sure the ignorant tourists won’t know the difference…” Abbey ranted on, barely getting out a word before beginning the next.  As Abbey frantically spoke slightly raising his voice simultaneously, I could see everything he was slowly draining from his body.  He was just as the Juniper trees were, living but lifeless.[2]

I sat in silence twiddling my finger for what felt like days, I knew this was coming, but I didn’t know it was going to be this soon.  I knew I shouldn’t waste my breath on useless words that wouldn’t stop the machines from running and the men behind the machines from doing their jobs to pay the bills.  Abbey began to sob, tears rushing down his face, watering the soil just above the roots of the juniper. 

“You need to stop that,” I mumbled under my breath almost angry with how poorly Abbey dealt with his emotions.  Abbey was a dramatized persona.[3]  He wanted everyone to see him as the motivated environmentalist who fought for the rights of the land and the meaning of the natural world, but in reality Abbey was a complainer, a talker who lacked the ability and mental strength to take action. 

“We can’t change their minds Grant,” Abbey whispered, his tone of voice indicating how defeated he really was. 

“Ironical anarchy,” I dragged out every last letter hoping that it would make my words resonate within Abbey before he formulated an underdeveloped comeback in his highly entitled mind.[4]

Throughout my entire trip here, he has talked my ear off about the cowards of this world who refuse to break out of their sheltered bubbles and structured societal roles, yet the very second he has a possible chance to change the fate of the place he considers home, he collapses to a sob instead of taking action. 

“Im not…I’m…. I just want to belong in nature.  I strive to feel kindred with the trees, the snakes, the standing rocks.  I need the rest of my kind to understand me, understand the message that I am trying to send.  Humans need to leave their sheltered bubbles, crawl out of their homes and cars to explore and realize that out there is a world much more dynamic and greater than ourselves.”[5]  I was expecting Abbey to rise in rage, denying all my accusations of him being a revolutionary that doesn’t want to fight, but he didn’t.  He instead sat defeated, striving to explain to me his views and aspirations that he had ultimately deemed unachievable based on the negative stigma surrounding mankind.

“You’re angry, and you’re throwing it in too many directions to make sense!” I screamed surprising both him and myself.  Aggression wasn’t my intent, but his hypocritical attitude had plagued my being for six full days, and I needed to voice my resentment.  He had knocked mankind for so long I was beginning to question if he could even stand being around me, his first childhood friend, anymore.  

“Saving a dozen trees in a national park in Utah really means nothing in the grand scheme of things, right?  My true goal is unreachable, unachievable! It’s like trying to count all the stars in the sky while standing on the earth, impossible.  There are billions of people in this world; nothing I say will change a single thing.   You can’t just decivilize a highly civilized society, stripping it of all the things that keep it grounded and relevant and expect everything to be okay.”  He spoke on as if he ignored everything I said prior.  His eyes were glassy and dilated indicating that he was in another world. 

“Maybe you’re right,” I said, knowing that he would never belong, never understand the logic of the rest of his kind. 

Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire; a Season in the Wilderness. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968. Print.

Pozza, David. Bedrock and paradox: the literary landscape of Edward Abbey. Peter Lang Publishing. 2006.





[1] Reference to page 13 of Desert Solitaire. Abbey criticizes human dependence on technological gadgets, but he himself feels helpless without them as indicated by his fishing trip on page 153.
[2]  Page 18 of Bedrock and Paradox where the symbolism of the juniper tree is addressed.
[3] Page 17 of Bedrock and Paradox: description of Abbey and his character (directly quoted).
[4] Page 17 of Bedrock and Paradox: description of Abbey and his character (directly quoted).
[5] Reference to pages 37 and 51 of Desert Soltiaire where Abbey criticizes all humans for not leaving their comfort zones and exploring a world that is bigger and better than all of us. Reference to page 34 where Abbey shows how badly he wants to belong with nature.

Revision 1


Madison Kraemer

Mr. Adam Johns

English Comp 0200

10 October 2014

Abbey’s Hidden Mysticism

Is Edward Abbey a mystic?  Webster’s dictionary describes a mystic as a person who claims to attain, or believes in the possibility of attaining, insight into mysteries transcending ordinary human knowledge. Following this definition, Abbey is most definitely a mystic. From beginning to end in Desert Solitaire, his style of writing is a prime example of his spiritual mysticism. All the individual chapters in the book are short essays that are tied together from one chapter to another.  Whether he writes about nature, animals, or even death, Edward Abbey always finds a way to express his true mystical feeling and viewpoints in each chapter of his writings.

While reading Desert Solitaire, Abbey’s mysticism was quite obvious, but where did it stem from? I think Abbey’s mysticism in Desert Solitaire stemmed from his early life and his family’s beliefs. His unorthodox upbringing and tendency toward unconventional attitudes was partly shaped by his father, Paul Revere Abbey. Paul was an acknowledged atheist and socialist who subscribes to the journal Soviet Life. He was married to a woman named Mildred Postlewaite Abbey. She was a schoolteacher, a church organist, and a liberal. Although his mother had some effect on his view, his Father’s beliefs have drastically affected his viewpoints and beliefs on life.

His father’s influence had carried on with him throughout the rest of his life before writing Desert Solitaire. His past experience in the military has also impacted his spiritual views of nature and mankind. The military left him with distrust with for large institution and their regulations. During this same time period, which was the 1960’s, people believed that the world was going to end. This was a pivotal time period that sparked Abbey’s reason for his mystic writings.

An online dissertation called “Unearthing the spiritual message in Edward Abbey’s “Desert Solitaire” written by Pamela Jacobs-Pearce expresses how Abbey has created a veneer to bury his spiritual message within Desert Solitaire. She writes, “Abbeys spiritual message is also cloaked by Abbey’s prevailing objective throughout the book to convince the reader to object emotionally and morally to the destruction of wilderness,” (Jacobs-Pearce 9).  Pearce’s writings indicate that “Abbey’s anguish over the destruction of [the] canyon is his underlying motivation for this textual exploration of expressing his mystic experience and his persuasion of the reader to understand it,” (13).

The first chapter of the book, “The First Morning”, Abbey’s writings showed the first showings of his hidden mysticism within Desert Solitaire. In this chapter, Abbey makes many references to God in relationship to nature. He writes,

 ''I go into the desert not only to evade the clamor and confusion of this country's cultural apparatus but also to confront, immediately and directly if it’s possible, the bare bones of existence, the elemental and fundamental, the bedrock which sustains us. I want to be able to look at and into a juniper tree, a piece of quartz, a vulture, a spider, and see it as it is in itself, devoid of all humanly ascribed qualities, anti-Kantian, even the categories of scientific description. To meet God or Medusa face to face, even if it means risking everything human in myself. I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with a nonhuman world and yet somehow survives still intact, individual, separate. Paradox and bedrock.'' (Abbey 6).

 This passage shows that Abbey believes that he is living in “the center of the world, God’s naval, Abbey’s country, the red wasteland,” (4). His use of God in this specific passage shows that Abbey wants to be all alone with nothing but what God has created. He wants to be surrounded by every non-human aspect you can imagine and leave any trace of industrialism behind. His philosophical writings of God throughout the entire chapter and other parts of the book lead me to believe he is a true mystic.

Abbey’s use of God in his writings does not mean that he has a deep passion for a specific religion, rather he expresses his spirituality in many different ways in Desert Solitaire. His writings show traits that make him seem to be an animist, one who believes that non-human entities, such as animals and plants, possess a spiritual essence. In the chapter “The Serpents of Paradise”, his use of spirituality seems to give animals human characteristics by means of personification. He personifies the mourning doves in the nearby crevices by writing, “Hello…they seem to cry, who...are...you?” (16). When Abbey “befriends” a gopher snake, he describes his relationship with the snake as similar to the relationship between a “man and his dog” (21). Towards the end of the chapter, I noticed that Abbey personifies the two snakes by saying “I feel their presence watching over me […],” (21). A snake cannot simply watch over you, rather he is stating that the snakes impacted himself to the point where he will never forget the relationship. When describing his spirituality with animals, I find it very hard to not “summarize” his viewpoints because the personifications that are used need the explanation of the story in order to be understood. I believe his use of personification in his writings have forced his own definitions of life onto animals, which signifies his writings as mystical.

Another aspect of his spirituality in his writings is the use of death. Abbey believes that dying in the wilderness is “better than the slow rot in a hospital oxygen tent with rubber tubes stuck up your nose, prick, asshole, with blood transfusions and intravenous feeding, bedsores and bedpans and bad-tempered nurses’ aides – the whole nasty routine to which most dying men, in our time, are condemned,” (Abbey 83). In the chapter “The Dead Man at Grandview Point”, the writing of the tragic death of the man symbolizes how nature can simply engulf you. Even though this poor man has died, Abbey writes “He had good luck – I envy him the manner of his going: to die alone, on rock under the brink of the unknown, like a wolf, a great bird, seems to me very good fortune indeed. To die in the open, under the sun, far from insolent interference of leech and priest, before this desert vastness opening like a window onto eternity – that surely was an overwhelming stroke of rare good luck,” (212-213). Abbey’s comparison between the man’s death, which is considered a natural death, and an artificial, civilized death shows his belief in the all-natural afterlife. He wishes that he could die the way this man did, alone in the heart of nature, the way that every man should die.

Abbey’s mysticism is not only found in just the chapters I choose, but throughout the entire book. In one way, shape, or form Abbey writes his mystic views in almost every chapter by the use of personification and hidden messages within the text. His unique way of writings is what leads the reader deeper into the book so he can fully express his spiritual mysticism.

 

 

Works Cited

Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire; a Season in the Wilderness. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968. Print.

Jacobs, Pamela. Unearthing the Spiritual Message in Edward Abbey's Desert Solitaire. Thesis. University of North Texas, Aug, 1998. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print.

"Mystic." Merriam-Webster. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 24 Sept. 2014.

Revision

Jonathan Lee
Dr. Adam Johns
English 0200
October 10, 2014

Anarchy and Mysticism
In his youth, American writer Edward Abbey was fascinated by the writings of Taoist philosopher Chuang Tzu.  In his journals he wrote of one parable in particular, regarding a man who claimed to know how to manage horses.
“…Chuang Tzu observes that horses have hooves to carry them over frost and snow, and hair to protect them from the wind and cold.  They eat grass, drink water, and show their spirit by flinging up their heels as they gallop over the plains. 
Such is the real nature of horses, Tzu observed.  Then one day a man appeared who convinced the local people that he truly understood the management of horses better than they did.  So they stepped aside as he branded the horses, pared their hooves, slipped halters on them, tied them up, hobbled their legs, and locked them in stables.  Before long, three of the horses died.  But that failed to deter the man, who told onlookers once again that he understood the management of horses better than they.  Day after day, he kept the horses on short rations of food and water, threatening them with the whip and alternatively galloping and trotting them whether they required exercise ore not.  When half the horses had died, some of the local people began to criticize the man’s way with horses, but he told them that it was for their own good, that he truly had a superior understanding of the management of horses.” (Bishop 24)
This parable appealed to Abbey due to the fact that it simultaneously decries the oppression of humanity and the mistreatment of nature.  To Abbey, the man represents authority, while the horses represent both mankind and the natural world.  In Desert Solitaire, Abbey writes, “…wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit, and as vital to our lives as water and good bread.  A civilization which destroys what little remains of the wild, the spare, the original, is cutting itself off from its origins and betraying the principle of civilization itself” (169).  To Abbey, spirituality dictates anarchism, as industry and progress (both consequences of the state and the concentration of power) inevitably defile and destroy nature, thereby crippling the human spirit. 
            Upon reading Desert Solitaire, one finds that Abbey’s notion of traditional religion is rather contemptuous.  When speaking on death, Abbey refers to the “insolent interference of leech and priest.”  (213) In “Down the River,” whilst scoffing at Balzac’s statement regarding the desert, “God is there and man is not,” (184) Abbey writes, “God?  I think, quibbling with Balzac; … who the hell is He?” (184) Further corroborating Abbey’s animism, he writes in “Polemic: Industrial Tourism and the National Parks,” “An increasingly pagan and hedonistic people (thank God!), we are learning finally that the forests and mountains and desert canyons are holier than our churches” (52). Towards the end of the book, in “Episodes and Visions,” Abbey ridicules the practices of a number of the world’s major religions, lambasting baptism, the Virgin Mary, the Abrahamic creation myth, as well as the Hindu doctrines regarding “nasal emunction” (236). However, Abbey does not spare atheism, ridiculing the “small-town atheist…with his Little Blue Books and sneering jokes against ancient and venerable institutions” (236). These critiques that Abbey makes leave very little room for Abbey’s own beliefs, significantly narrowing down the list of possible candidates.  What is certain, however, is that in spite of the numerous biblical allusions included within the book, Abbey is convinced of an alternative belief system.
The most obvious clue as to what spiritual beliefs Abbey holds is the constant reference to God, the gods, and spirits of the desert.  His religious sentiments are aptly expressed in “Down the River,” where he writes, “…when I write of paradise I mean Paradise, not the banal Heaven of the saints.  When I write ‘paradise’ I mean not only apple trees and golden women but also scorpions and tarantulas and flies, rattlesnakes and Gila monsters, sandstorms, volcanoes and earthquakes, bacteria and bear, cactus, yucca, bladderweed, ocotillo and mesquite, flash floods and quicksand, and yes –disease and death and the rotting of flesh” (167). In fact, this is why Abbey compulsively ascribes humanly characteristics to everything he encounters, for which he admonishes himself constantly.  In his final personification, Abbey writes in “Bedrock and Paradox,” “I am almost prepared to believe that this sweet virginal primitive land will be grateful for my departure and the absence of the tourists, will breathe metaphorically a collective sigh of relief—like a whisper of wind— when we are all and finally gone and the place and its creations can return to their ancient procedures unobserved and undisturbed by the busy, anxious, brooding consciousness of man” (267). What’s so important about this passage is that it really captures Abbey’s reverence for all things in the natural world, because he holds them as being holier than any relic.  Earlier in the book, Abbey is captivated by the petroglyphs left on the rocks and canyons by the Anasazi, depicting “gods from the underworld,” and the like. (101) “Beware, traveler. You are approaching the land of the horned gods.”  It’s hard not to think that, in a sense, Abbey believes in such deities himself. 
One indicator of Abbey’s spirituality is his treatment of death.  In “Cowboys and Indians,” Abbey describes how terrified his elderly companion, cattle rancher Roy Scobie, is of facing death.  As Roy doesn’t “honestly believe in an afterlife,” (83) he is particularly uneasy about dying, and is constantly fretting about it.  However, Abbey seems much more at ease and complacent with the subject.  He views death as, “little more than a fascinating abstraction, the conclusion to a syllogism or the denouement of a stage drama.”  Furthermore, Abbey feels that dying in the desert is infinitely preferable to the manner in which most men die, “with blood transfusions and intravenous feeding, bedsores and bedpans and bad-tempered nurses’ aides.” (83) Latter in the book, upon finding a dead man in the desert, Abbey states that, had he known the man, he would “celebrate his transfiguration from flesh to fantasy in a style proper and fitting, with fun for all at the funeral.” (214) It has already been established that Abbey does not comply with the teachings of organized religions.  That being said, I think it follows naturally from this passage that Abbey seems to look forward to the “transfiguration of flesh to fantasy.”  What that means exactly is uncertain.  However, the term “fantasy” strongly implies a notion of the afterlife, be that the life-essence becoming one with the universe, or the spirit roaming free of the corporeal form, or what have you.  The point is that Abbey clearly holds his own opinion as to what happens when we die.  In numerous places Abbey speaks of how suitable a place the desert in particular is to die, ostensibly because of the abundance of life and spirits in the natural world, in place of the artificial machinations, completely devoid of life and spirituality, with which society surrounds us.
Edward Abbey was a fervent anarchist.  This fact is brushed upon briefly in Desert Solitaire, but is quite obvious after an examination of Abbey’s life and writings.  Within Desert Solitaire, Abbey quotes the revolutionary anarchist Mikhail Bakunin, “there are times when creation can be achieved only through destruction.  The urge to destroy is then a creative urge” (Abbey 162).  Later, Abbey commends the Mormons for how they have organized their society in a communal and egalitarian fashion.  Outside of Desert Solitaire, Abbey’s journal entries are rife with anarchistic sentiments.  In an entry dated December 1951, Abbey proclaims in his journal that his “favorite melodramatic theme [is] the harried anarchist, a wounded wolf, struggling toward the green hills, or the black-white alpine mountains, or the purple-golden desert range and liberty.  Will he make it?  Or will the FBI shoot him down on the very threshold of wilderness and freedom?” (Confessions of a Barbarian 10)  In order to earn a master’s degree in philosophy, Abbey wrote his dissertation, entitled “Anarchism and the Morality of Violence” (Bishop 79).  Writing amidst the pressures of the Cold War, Abbey criticized both the capitalism of the west and the Soviet-style Marxism of the east, drawing influences from the ideas of Erich Fromm and Mikhail Bakunin (Anarchism: The Morality of Violence).
Abbey’s anarchism is deeply intertwined with his spirituality.  According to the Oxford Dictionary, mysticism is defined as the “belief that union with or absorption into the Deity or the absolute, or with spiritual apprehension of knowledge inaccessible to the intellect, may be attained through contemplation and self-surrender.”  By this definition, Abbey is undoubtedly a mystic.  Every chapter is rife with references to the “spiritual appeal” (240) of the desert, and the spirits and gods who inhabit it.  It seems, in fact, that the primary reason he took the position of park ranger is on account of his mysticism.  In “The First Morning,” Abbey claims that he has come to Arches because he wants “To meet God or Medusa face to face, even if it means risking everything human in myself,” and that he “dream[s] of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with a non human world…” Abbey’s life and writings demonstrate that he was an animist with an anarchistic vision.  His work suggests that the institution of a sort of collective anarchism would align perfectly with nature, and that this harmony demands the smashing of unnatural forces that mutilate human freedom and Abbey’s revered natural world.







Works Cited


Abbey, Edward. Anarchism and the Morality of Violence. Diss. U of New Mexico, 1959. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print.

Abbey, Edward, and David Petersen. Confessions of a Barbarian: Selections from the Journals of Edward Abbey, 1951-1989. Boston: Little, Brown, 1994. Print.

Abbey, Edward. Desert Solitaire; a Season in the Wilderness. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968. Print.

Bishop, James. Epitaph for a Desert Anarchist: The Life and Legacy of Edward Abbey. New York: Atheneum, 1994. Print.