Reading Diary 02/21/21 A Recap of Sierra and Introduction to The Mountains of California

I'm trying to get into reading again after nearly a year of being away from books. The last significant thing I read was The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway about a year ago. It was a great story of a love triangle of American expatriates in 20's Paris who travel to Spain to escape the troubles of the city only to take most of those problems with them. However, I like to alternate my readings between fictional narrative prose (i.e. novels) and other genres such as non-fiction, memoir, biography, and philosophy. So, that untouched copy of A Distant Trumpet will have to wait.

Just today I started reading something I've had my eye on for quite some time: The Mountains of California by John Muir. Reading Thoreau in late high school / early college fostered a great interest in naturalist writing and philosophy of the 19th century that naturally led me to the writings of Muir. With his most famous book being The Mountains of California, I went down to the local library and did some searching in the summer of 2019. Disappointingly, no copies remained on the shelf, and the only Muir writing to remain was My First Summer in Sierra, a transcription of his personal journal from his first journey into the Yosemite Valley and up the Sierra Nevadas. I ended up going home with that and a collection of interviews with Miles Davis, enthralled by what I had read of Sierra in the library. Fast-forward to October of 2020 and I finally pick up a copy of Mountains at a used bookstore. Hit the two arrows again and we arrive at today's date where I finally crack open the slightly worn, slightly yellowed paperback copy. Before discussing what I have read of this so far however (just the introduction), I think it is important to briefly revisit Sierra and John Muir's first journey into "The range of light."

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Muir's passionate writing and recollections of his journey in Sierra were charming as they were captivating, with him not seeming to control the rate at which his thoughts streamed down to the pen as he went on extended musings about the lives of flowers, squirrels, and grasshoppers. He relished in the immense joy he felt when allowing his mind to go on such journeys, and always ended with another piece of his understanding of man's role in the world and the spirituality of nature in place.

These charming excursions of thought spurred on by something as simple as a fly's flight pattern on a spring afternoon did not comprise his whole journal. He just as often would draw the reader into his world and give the best novelists a run for their money with his descriptions of tense encounters with bears at not much more than an arm's length, exhilarating journeys under a waterfall balanced on a paper-thin precipice, and spiritual encounters with the morning sun. His journalistic writings were hardly constructed in the fashion of the best narrative prose, but the passion in his words necessitated the rich use of literary devices in his own journal to communicate the power of his emotions, and grips the reader in a way not unlike any great novel. The reader gains the sense that Muir was often at a literal loss for words and can almost visualize his expressions exploding with excitement and ecstasy as he penned his experiences in his field journal. These adventurous experiences, although more visceral than the musings that preceded them, were similarly punctuated by his philosophical takeaways, and conclusions about spirituality and nature. He makes these philosophical conclusions in the presence of nature through grand experiences nearly every day of his trek. Considering that with his reflection on his life in Wisconsin upon meeting an old teacher along with his young age at the time of writing, the reader can see how formative and influential on his eventually well-known character this journey was, and helps give an insight on his later writings. Despite the journal format (which I would argue makes the experience of reading more adventurous), My First Summer in Sierra is an incredibly gripping read and is essential in my opinion for any lover of nature.

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Muir's philosophies in Sierra are quite plain. Not plain in the sense of diction and composition (In fact, his verbosity sometimes fringes on excessive, a byproduct of his limitless passion and lack of an editor).  Not plain in the sense that the conclusions are shallow and uninspired. They are plain in the sense that he is a plainer man than someone like the Harvard educated Thoreau. This is something also touched on by Edward Hoagland in his introduction to the Penguin published edition of Mountains in 1985, which I just read today in the opening pages of my used paperback copy. Hoagland makes many interesting points on the differences between Thoreau and Muir's opinions on social issues, politics, and spirituality. However, he commits an equal amount of time to the undeniable similarities between their particular brands of naturalism, and the cues Muir took from New England transcendentalists such as Thoreau. I found it fascinating, and it felt as if it were written just for me, considering how both writers have influenced me personally as I've come into adulthood. I could speak on more of his points, but it would be pointless when he's already discussed them much better than I could on this blog.

I learned a great deal from the introduction and intend to begin the book proper tonight or tomorrow. (Wisdom teeth are coming out tomorrow, so it might be perfect!) I'm interested to see how concerted efforts at writing for public consumption differ from Muir's personal journal writings.


-Matt