The Lost Art of Walking
Writing about ordinary objects and quotidian activities is the latest trend in publishing. There have been books about fruit and death, about toothpicks and traffic. It鈥檚 squarely within this tradition that The Lost Art of Walking by Geoff Nicholson falls.
Such works are notable for the minute yet pleasing details that authors unearth about their subjects and there鈥檚 no shortage of them here.
Nicholson catalogues every aspect of walking: its origins, its use as a cure for various ills, expert walkers, eccentric walkers, walking songs, spiritual walking, walking on water, walking in prison, and the analysis of perfect and imperfect walks.
We learn, for example, that the Lambeth Walk (a jaunty strut that involves linking arms, raising knees, and occasionally shouting 鈥淥i!鈥�), was all the rage in prewar Europe.
The Nazis, however, denounced it as 鈥渁nimalistic hopping鈥� when the musician behind it refused to swear to a lack of Jewish ancestry.
When a clever British propagandist later edited footage of German soldiers to make it appear that they were doing the Lambeth Walk, Joseph Goebbels, the mastermind behind Nazi propaganda, 鈥渞an out of the room literally kicking and screaming.鈥�
When books like this are good, however, it鈥檚 because of their quixotic, passionate, and often monomaniacal characters and the remarkable variety of human experience that they represent. That鈥檚 certainly true here.
Take Edward Weston, 鈥�America鈥檚 most famous pedestrian,鈥� known for such feats as walking from Boston to Washington in 10 days for Abraham Lincoln鈥檚 inaugural ball and walking backwards for 200 miles in St. Louis.
There鈥檚 also Captain Barclay, the Scotsman who, in 1809, walked one mile an hour for 1,000 successive hours to win a wager.
The book is varied, wide-ranging, and full of a dry and delightful wit. I found myself giggling every few pages.
Nicholson鈥檚 affection for his subjects and his gusto for walking are palpable.
Sean Hughes lives, writes, and walks in Seattle.
