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Abbey's Road
You are about to visit some of the most exciting places on earth. Not the sort of excitement that makes morning headlines or the nightly news. Instead it is the excitement that comes from experiencing the natural world as it always has been and should be, and seeing human beings living in tune with its subtlest rhythms. In Australian cattle country and in the primitive outback. On a desert island off Mexico and in the Sierra Madres. On the Rio Grande and in the great Southwest. On Lake Powell in Utah and in the living American desert. It is adventure. It is enlightenment. It is vintage Abbey.
198 pages, Paperback
First published June 25, 1979
19 people are currently reading
837 people want to read
About the author
Edward Abbey
77 books2,090 followersEdward Paul Abbey (1927–1989) was an American author and essayist noted for his advocacy of environmental issues, criticism of public land policies, and anarchist political views.
Abbey attended college in New Mexico and then worked as a park ranger and fire lookout for the National Park Service in the Southwest. It was during this time that he developed the relationship with the area’s environment that influenced his writing. During his service, he was in close proximity to the ruins of ancient Native American cultures and saw the expansion and destruction of modern civilization.
His love for nature and extreme distrust of the industrial world influenced much of his work and helped garner a cult following.
Abbey died on March 14, 1989, due to complications from surgery. He was buried as he had requested: in a sleeping bag—no embalming fluid, no casket. His body was secretly interred in an unmarked grave in southern Arizona.
Abbey attended college in New Mexico and then worked as a park ranger and fire lookout for the National Park Service in the Southwest. It was during this time that he developed the relationship with the area’s environment that influenced his writing. During his service, he was in close proximity to the ruins of ancient Native American cultures and saw the expansion and destruction of modern civilization.
His love for nature and extreme distrust of the industrial world influenced much of his work and helped garner a cult following.
Abbey died on March 14, 1989, due to complications from surgery. He was buried as he had requested: in a sleeping bag—no embalming fluid, no casket. His body was secretly interred in an unmarked grave in southern Arizona.
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September 17, 2014
Abbey’s Road
Edward Abbey
I usually skip the introduction to a book, even a nonfiction book, but as I thumbed through the opening pages of Abbey’s Road, looking for the start of chapter one, I noticed correspondence embedded in the text. Specifically, it was Abbey’s letter to the editors of Ms Magazine (which Abbey spelled Mizz Magazine), followed by an equally witty and cutting response from Gloria Steinem herself. Neither letter saw print in the magazine, but Abbey preserved them for posterity in the pages of his book.
His introduction includes correspondence to and from a number of persons, both famous and unknown. One such correspondent apparently confused him with the notable playwright Edward Albee and chastised him for his recent departure from his usual style.
Further comments in the introduction mark Abbey as a defender and promoter of western literature and nature writing in general. He specifically mentions Joseph Wood Krutch, great granddaddy of western conservationists, and other nature writers, but he reserves the heir to Thoreau honor for Virginia (and Puget Sound) resident Annie Dilliard. He then takes exception to Dillard’s constant invocation of the Deity, stating that use of the simple word mystery (without capitalization) would suffice.
Beyond the introduction, the book is divided into three unequal parts, with part one, a travelogue, being the longest. Here we see Abbey in his element, the untamed wilderness and cattle ranches of the American Southwest, with trips further afield to the Great Barrier Reef, Aboriginal Australia, and an uninhabited island off the coast of Mexico. He also recounts a rafting trip on the Rio Grande River. Aside from the uninhabited island, he encounters a variety of interesting people along the way, including a barmaid whom he is not quite successful in convincing to travel with him across the Outback. That story though, is pure Abbey.
Part two is devoted to polemics, essay style writing which takes a specific view and gives no credence to any opposing argument. Despite his years supporting himself as a park ranger, cowboy, fire tower lookout and teacher, Abbey shows no respect for the Park Service bureaucracy nor its sister agency in the Department of Agriculture, the U.S Forest Service. His comments are equally likely to infuriate cattle ranchers, university administrators, feminists, and gun control advocates. Abbey loved the American West, and was equally at home bird watching or hunting deer. He took the construction of Glen Canyon Dam as a personal affront. In this section Abbey confronts the powers that be in the spirit of his better known fictional work The Monkey Wrench Gang.
The third and shortest part is devoted to personal history. It lacks the lyric passages of his nonfiction book, Dessert Solitaire, my personal favorite of his works, but perhaps gives more insight into the man, his life’s work, and his motivations. It includes a story of a hiking trip with his young daughter, child of the wife who died of leukemia. This particular story shows a tender side to a man normally regarded as a grizzled old curmudgeon.
Abbey’s Road provides a retrospective of his life up to that point in time. His best known books were already written, but more were yet to appear. I recommend it highly to anyone who loves the outdoors, and is at least willing to suspend judgment about his anarchist politics.
Edward Abbey
I usually skip the introduction to a book, even a nonfiction book, but as I thumbed through the opening pages of Abbey’s Road, looking for the start of chapter one, I noticed correspondence embedded in the text. Specifically, it was Abbey’s letter to the editors of Ms Magazine (which Abbey spelled Mizz Magazine), followed by an equally witty and cutting response from Gloria Steinem herself. Neither letter saw print in the magazine, but Abbey preserved them for posterity in the pages of his book.
His introduction includes correspondence to and from a number of persons, both famous and unknown. One such correspondent apparently confused him with the notable playwright Edward Albee and chastised him for his recent departure from his usual style.
Further comments in the introduction mark Abbey as a defender and promoter of western literature and nature writing in general. He specifically mentions Joseph Wood Krutch, great granddaddy of western conservationists, and other nature writers, but he reserves the heir to Thoreau honor for Virginia (and Puget Sound) resident Annie Dilliard. He then takes exception to Dillard’s constant invocation of the Deity, stating that use of the simple word mystery (without capitalization) would suffice.
Beyond the introduction, the book is divided into three unequal parts, with part one, a travelogue, being the longest. Here we see Abbey in his element, the untamed wilderness and cattle ranches of the American Southwest, with trips further afield to the Great Barrier Reef, Aboriginal Australia, and an uninhabited island off the coast of Mexico. He also recounts a rafting trip on the Rio Grande River. Aside from the uninhabited island, he encounters a variety of interesting people along the way, including a barmaid whom he is not quite successful in convincing to travel with him across the Outback. That story though, is pure Abbey.
Part two is devoted to polemics, essay style writing which takes a specific view and gives no credence to any opposing argument. Despite his years supporting himself as a park ranger, cowboy, fire tower lookout and teacher, Abbey shows no respect for the Park Service bureaucracy nor its sister agency in the Department of Agriculture, the U.S Forest Service. His comments are equally likely to infuriate cattle ranchers, university administrators, feminists, and gun control advocates. Abbey loved the American West, and was equally at home bird watching or hunting deer. He took the construction of Glen Canyon Dam as a personal affront. In this section Abbey confronts the powers that be in the spirit of his better known fictional work The Monkey Wrench Gang.
The third and shortest part is devoted to personal history. It lacks the lyric passages of his nonfiction book, Dessert Solitaire, my personal favorite of his works, but perhaps gives more insight into the man, his life’s work, and his motivations. It includes a story of a hiking trip with his young daughter, child of the wife who died of leukemia. This particular story shows a tender side to a man normally regarded as a grizzled old curmudgeon.
Abbey’s Road provides a retrospective of his life up to that point in time. His best known books were already written, but more were yet to appear. I recommend it highly to anyone who loves the outdoors, and is at least willing to suspend judgment about his anarchist politics.
March 26, 2015
I enjoy Abbey’s libertarian spirit, to a degree. As in his other writings, Abbey experiences his freedom, in part, by tossing his wine bottle “high in the air” to hear “it crash on the rocks,” by tossing his beer can near Ayers Rock, by tossing another beer can into Lake Powell, and by leaving his calling card “in a peanut jar (my peanut jar) on [a] summit.” This seems self-indulgent. Elsewhere, Abbey calls the chuckwalla a stupid lizard and refers to a great blue heron as “not too bright,” which seems at odds with his statements that “all the creatures great and small” are part of a greater whole, but each an individual as well, one and unique…” and that “even a rock has being.” He pops off on this and that with his political opinions. He espouses gun libertarianism (to protect us against “the government”) and says that in this predator-prey world “the moralistic vegetarian is a hypocrite,” as if it’s wrong to not impose suffering if we have a choice not to do so.
Abbey says he is a “feeler, not a thinker”and that’s why he’s fun to read. Alone, at a remote point in the canyons, he pulls out his flute to “play a little desert music. Improvised music: a song for any coyotes that may be listening, a song for the river and the great canyon, a song for the sky, a song for the setting sun. Doing only what is proper and necessary. I stop; we listen to the echoes floating back. I write ‘we’ because, in the company of the other nearby living things – lizards, ravens, snakes, bushes, grass weeds – I do not feel myself to be alone.” And then he writes, “Every time I go anywhere out in the desert or mountains I wonder why I should return. Someday I won’t.” Given his death and the whereabouts of his body, that statement was prophetic.
Abbey says he is a “feeler, not a thinker”and that’s why he’s fun to read. Alone, at a remote point in the canyons, he pulls out his flute to “play a little desert music. Improvised music: a song for any coyotes that may be listening, a song for the river and the great canyon, a song for the sky, a song for the setting sun. Doing only what is proper and necessary. I stop; we listen to the echoes floating back. I write ‘we’ because, in the company of the other nearby living things – lizards, ravens, snakes, bushes, grass weeds – I do not feel myself to be alone.” And then he writes, “Every time I go anywhere out in the desert or mountains I wonder why I should return. Someday I won’t.” Given his death and the whereabouts of his body, that statement was prophetic.
July 16, 2019
I had to warm up to this one a bit— the first few essays revealing all the flaws I have heard of Abbey but never really seen in his writing.
But the last half of the book where he hits his stride were genius. He is unapologetically him, a trait I can respect even if I don’t agree with everything. But I agree with a lot. Progress is not always progress for all things.
In all, it’s Abbey and always worth my attention.
But the last half of the book where he hits his stride were genius. He is unapologetically him, a trait I can respect even if I don’t agree with everything. But I agree with a lot. Progress is not always progress for all things.
In all, it’s Abbey and always worth my attention.
September 13, 2023
While reading this, it was hard to keep in mind the historical context and the benefits his work contributed to raising awareness and advocacy. Abbey, himself, admitted to being a chauvinist (to the max) and alcoholic. A number of times, with disgust I had to put the book aside. In today's context, his own environmental ethics sucked. The trash recently revealed due to extreme drought at the bottom of Lake Mead was likely included his own.
March 29, 2015
This is a mixed bag of essays from the 70's, when Abbey was tromping around as, as he calls it, a "Literary Hobo." His travels described in "Abbey's Road" range from the Great Barrier Reef and Australia's Outback,to Copper Canyon in the Sierra Madres, the Colorado River, and various other locations in the American Southwest. He includes reminiscences from his younger years as well as ruminations from the top of his fire lookout stations high above the National Forests.
It's still fun to read the cantankerous iconoclast,though his rants wear thin on me after a while. One has to remember that a lot has changed since he wrote these words, some things for better, more for the worst. I imagine the Outback he describes - a wild west place, *"Back of Beyond" -- hardly exists. And he would seethe in his grave if he could see the line of cars backed up to gain entry to Arches National Park on a popular week-end. On the other hand, he might be gratified to watch the water level going down on Lake Powell, even without dynamiting Glen Canyon Dam.
Abbey's words still hold up especially well, when he writes about human nature:
"What is it?" we ask,meaning what is its name? This odd quirk of the human mind: Unless we can name things, they remain for us only half-real."
He was such a keen observer not only of the human condition, but of the little details of experience, like this comment as he attempts to orient in the Sierra Nevada:
"The map is a Xerox copy of a copy, printed in Mexico on recycled tortilla paper with iguana piss for ink. Hard to read."
This is a guy who can describe a woman:
"Long, soft light brown hair; great violet eyes with coal black lashes; breasts like two fawns at play in a garden of roses; a superior assembly of delectable parts."
I think most fans of Abbey are fans of his style, but his passionate involvement with the environment is a big part of it, too. As he puts it, suggesting his own epitaph: "He fell in love with the planet earth, but the affair was never consummated."
* Our/everybody's favorite book store in Moab, UT is "Back of Beyond," which features local prose and poetry, fact and fiction, and includes a sort of an Abbey Shrine with First Editions and signed copies. I had never realized before that the name of the shop comes from a chapter in this book.
It's still fun to read the cantankerous iconoclast,though his rants wear thin on me after a while. One has to remember that a lot has changed since he wrote these words, some things for better, more for the worst. I imagine the Outback he describes - a wild west place, *"Back of Beyond" -- hardly exists. And he would seethe in his grave if he could see the line of cars backed up to gain entry to Arches National Park on a popular week-end. On the other hand, he might be gratified to watch the water level going down on Lake Powell, even without dynamiting Glen Canyon Dam.
Abbey's words still hold up especially well, when he writes about human nature:
"What is it?" we ask,meaning what is its name? This odd quirk of the human mind: Unless we can name things, they remain for us only half-real."
He was such a keen observer not only of the human condition, but of the little details of experience, like this comment as he attempts to orient in the Sierra Nevada:
"The map is a Xerox copy of a copy, printed in Mexico on recycled tortilla paper with iguana piss for ink. Hard to read."
This is a guy who can describe a woman:
"Long, soft light brown hair; great violet eyes with coal black lashes; breasts like two fawns at play in a garden of roses; a superior assembly of delectable parts."
I think most fans of Abbey are fans of his style, but his passionate involvement with the environment is a big part of it, too. As he puts it, suggesting his own epitaph: "He fell in love with the planet earth, but the affair was never consummated."
* Our/everybody's favorite book store in Moab, UT is "Back of Beyond," which features local prose and poetry, fact and fiction, and includes a sort of an Abbey Shrine with First Editions and signed copies. I had never realized before that the name of the shop comes from a chapter in this book.
December 27, 2022
A gift from my brother that I read while flying from Omaha to San Diego. I loved this eclectic collection of articles. I enjoyed his descriptions of traveling around the Australian Outback and spending a week on a Mexican desert island as much as his travel articles in Beyond the Wall (1984). But this volume goes beyond that with insights into Abbey himself via "polemics and sermons," "personal history" and even an introduction that includes previously unpublished letters exchanged with Gloria Steinem. They depict Abbey as the iconoclastic curmudgeon we would expect, but with an eclectic set of experiences and views. Somewhat of a lady killer, he was not without prejudices and walked the line between radical and redneck as well as anyone ever has.
In the end though, it doesn't seem hard to reconcile things like his passionate advocacy of gun rights with his love of life in general and nature in particular. Ultimately, everything always comes back to his beloved desert: "The desert world accepts my homage with its customary silence . The grand indifference . . . As any magician knows, true magic inheres in the ordinary, the commonplace, the everyday, the mystery of the obvious. Only petty minds and trivial souls yearn for the supernatural events, incapable of perceiving that everything - everything! - within and around them is pure miracle." (p195)
In the end though, it doesn't seem hard to reconcile things like his passionate advocacy of gun rights with his love of life in general and nature in particular. Ultimately, everything always comes back to his beloved desert: "The desert world accepts my homage with its customary silence . The grand indifference . . . As any magician knows, true magic inheres in the ordinary, the commonplace, the everyday, the mystery of the obvious. Only petty minds and trivial souls yearn for the supernatural events, incapable of perceiving that everything - everything! - within and around them is pure miracle." (p195)
July 15, 2023
Probably 3.5 stars. Has some great gems. Makes me want to read his other stuff (have read DS and TMWG). Like his style and humor- surprised s little at his littering though but I know other books have discussed that.
Funniest part was his rental car experience in Australia where he took it into the outback, broke the engine and had it towed but it flipped on its side and eventually left it in the rental lot and dropped off the keys. “Was everything satisfactory, sir?” “Oh quite”, I said, sweating stinking drunk filthy and happy “ quite quite” and took off, disappearing forever into the southern cross.
Intro:
“Speaking for myself, I write mainly for the money”.
“Writers write for the pleasure of it for the sheer ecstasy of the creative moment, the creative act. For that blazing revelation when we think, if only in delusion, that we have finally succeeded in grasping, if only for and hour, the thing that has no name. It is this transient moment of bliss which is for the artist …the one ultimate …”
P66
As sancho panza says, “the best sauce is hunger”.
89: “birdwatchers are a fussy, eccentric lot, especially perpetual s like myself, who seem condemned never to find a bird, anywhere, that corresponds precisely to its description and illustration in the bird books”
113: as I say to my friends Eliot Porter, Ansel Adams, and Philip Hyde, one word is worth a thousand pictures. If it’s the right word. The good word “
132: gun advocacy or at least anti- government control.
Funniest part was his rental car experience in Australia where he took it into the outback, broke the engine and had it towed but it flipped on its side and eventually left it in the rental lot and dropped off the keys. “Was everything satisfactory, sir?” “Oh quite”, I said, sweating stinking drunk filthy and happy “ quite quite” and took off, disappearing forever into the southern cross.
Intro:
“Speaking for myself, I write mainly for the money”.
“Writers write for the pleasure of it for the sheer ecstasy of the creative moment, the creative act. For that blazing revelation when we think, if only in delusion, that we have finally succeeded in grasping, if only for and hour, the thing that has no name. It is this transient moment of bliss which is for the artist …the one ultimate …”
P66
As sancho panza says, “the best sauce is hunger”.
89: “birdwatchers are a fussy, eccentric lot, especially perpetual s like myself, who seem condemned never to find a bird, anywhere, that corresponds precisely to its description and illustration in the bird books”
113: as I say to my friends Eliot Porter, Ansel Adams, and Philip Hyde, one word is worth a thousand pictures. If it’s the right word. The good word “
132: gun advocacy or at least anti- government control.
July 18, 2023
I like Edward Abbey because he doesn't try to hide that he's kind of an asshole. And he doesn't tell you he's an asshole, or try to show you he's an asshole with elaborate anecdotes of selfish tomfoolery. He's not even accurately described as unapologetic, since despite fitting it in perfectly with the environment he's writing about, he communicates regret that he's still described by that dirty word he seems to spit when he writes it: human. To Abbey, other humans mess up whatever environment they're in. Even indigenous people mess up the Earth, he often writes throughout these travel stories to Australia and Mexico and some of America, although he's harder on white people (and American culture especially) for messing the indigenous people up. He's critical of cultures and then in the same breath he throws a beer bottle to smash on rocks in untouched Australian outback. Or he'll mock an accent and then throw in what he must know is an extremely creepy line describing whatever woman he's horning up over. I don't think he does this on accident or just to liven up the prose with some humor. "Do I contradict myself? / Very well then I contradict myself, / (I am large, I contain multitudes.)" he invokes Whitman. When he describes natural environments, geology, ecosystems, the niches of various species...they all fit together perfectly. Necessary elements in their environment, and I think that's what he's presenting as himself here. Lyrical prose, a pleasure to read in general. It's hard to say if any of the places he writes about are the same today as they were in the 60's and 70's when traveled them, but this isn't really a travel guide. I doubt if Abbey actually wants anyone else to go anywhere he's been.
January 4, 2024
2.5/5
To the contemporary reader Abby appears as a misogynistic, perverted stubborn bigot who claims (falsely) to be open minded. And well, honestly, I think this judgment is correct. But, judging old books based on contemporary values and moralities is a silly idea. Yes, his outdated beliefs about sexuality and gun politics are not something to be praised; but even when looking past these ideas I still dislike a lot of what Abbey has to say.
If you’re living in Abby’s version of America, where solitude is the only escape from systemic greed and all anger towards the system comes in the form of screaming passionately into the void, then his work is cathartic. And maybe in an angstier mood his writing would resonate a whole lot more?
Abbey for the most part is a cynic. He criticizes (often validly) about environmentalism, humanity's withdrawal from nature usurped by pampered, depressing consumerism but he does so without proposing any answers. It's cathartic but unproductive. It is emotionally stirring but devoid of wisdom. However, there are a few bright spots that hold up amidst all the unproductive cynicism.
Abbey is a skilled writer. He has a sharp vocabulary and can spend paragraphs describing nature in an engaging way. His humor and strong style (while sometimes totally tasteless) are well crafted. The joy of being out in nature, of enjoying our time here and now are well conveyed and beautifully illustrated.
The chapter “Back of Beyond” in particular is Abbey at his best. It’s funny, a little bit crass and timeless in his portrayal of the outdoors.
When writing about the present moment, his experiences as a participant, his writing works wonderfully. When abstracted into rants and armchair fist shaking Abbey stumbles.
To the contemporary reader Abby appears as a misogynistic, perverted stubborn bigot who claims (falsely) to be open minded. And well, honestly, I think this judgment is correct. But, judging old books based on contemporary values and moralities is a silly idea. Yes, his outdated beliefs about sexuality and gun politics are not something to be praised; but even when looking past these ideas I still dislike a lot of what Abbey has to say.
If you’re living in Abby’s version of America, where solitude is the only escape from systemic greed and all anger towards the system comes in the form of screaming passionately into the void, then his work is cathartic. And maybe in an angstier mood his writing would resonate a whole lot more?
Abbey for the most part is a cynic. He criticizes (often validly) about environmentalism, humanity's withdrawal from nature usurped by pampered, depressing consumerism but he does so without proposing any answers. It's cathartic but unproductive. It is emotionally stirring but devoid of wisdom. However, there are a few bright spots that hold up amidst all the unproductive cynicism.
Abbey is a skilled writer. He has a sharp vocabulary and can spend paragraphs describing nature in an engaging way. His humor and strong style (while sometimes totally tasteless) are well crafted. The joy of being out in nature, of enjoying our time here and now are well conveyed and beautifully illustrated.
The chapter “Back of Beyond” in particular is Abbey at his best. It’s funny, a little bit crass and timeless in his portrayal of the outdoors.
When writing about the present moment, his experiences as a participant, his writing works wonderfully. When abstracted into rants and armchair fist shaking Abbey stumbles.
February 24, 2024
Abbey is in rare form for the latter 1/3 of these essays, which singlehandedly have made me an Abbey gal. When put into admonitions to the public, the outdoors experiences that he typically details become something broader & more lucid than the usual transcription of a float down a river. Mystery, wildness, wilderness.
"Science With a Human Face" was especially timely after reading Eichmann in Jersusalem – technology engaging with the banality of evil. "Science in our time is the whore of industry and war" – moving away from the traditional aim of acquisition of knowledge (not power). Accounts for the nuances of scientific progress (and declaims his oversimplification) while maintaining a clear moral: "construct[ing] our lives to the dimensions of the machine" has removed us from Reason: "intelligence informed by sympathy, knowledge in the arms of love." He has strong words for folks on either side of the fence!!
"Conscience of the Conquerer" would be great to piss off ecologically and humanistically weak Christians, or capitalists. Especially apt while the Gazan genocide continues. Truly unnerving to be reading at this point in American history.
"The Sorrows of Travel" ends with one of the most romantic things I've ever read – very Bukowski.
Goddamn dude. Abbey hits hards. There is nothing to pray for. Let us pray.
Natural redneck vs. instant redneck, great points were made.
IF YOU AIN'T A COWBOY, YOU AIN'T SHIT!!!
"Science With a Human Face" was especially timely after reading Eichmann in Jersusalem – technology engaging with the banality of evil. "Science in our time is the whore of industry and war" – moving away from the traditional aim of acquisition of knowledge (not power). Accounts for the nuances of scientific progress (and declaims his oversimplification) while maintaining a clear moral: "construct[ing] our lives to the dimensions of the machine" has removed us from Reason: "intelligence informed by sympathy, knowledge in the arms of love." He has strong words for folks on either side of the fence!!
"Conscience of the Conquerer" would be great to piss off ecologically and humanistically weak Christians, or capitalists. Especially apt while the Gazan genocide continues. Truly unnerving to be reading at this point in American history.
"The Sorrows of Travel" ends with one of the most romantic things I've ever read – very Bukowski.
Goddamn dude. Abbey hits hards. There is nothing to pray for. Let us pray.
Natural redneck vs. instant redneck, great points were made.
IF YOU AIN'T A COWBOY, YOU AIN'T SHIT!!!
May 29, 2025
3.5 Abbey's passion for the natural world - and distaste for the urban environment and its occupants - are the themes for these tales of wilderness travel from Australia to Scotland to Mexico to various places in the U.S. While some of his observations and reflections are, as expected, breathtaking and powerful, I was somewhat put off by some of his derogatory language regarding people of color and native people he encountered (although I understand the book was written nearly 50 years ago).
Still, his love for the wilderness remains an inspiration:
"What good is a Bill of Rights that does not include the right to play, to wander, to explore, the right to stillness and solitude, to discovery and physical freedom? . . . If lucky, we may succeed in making America not the master of the earth (a trivial goal), but rather an example to other nations of what is possible and beautiful. Was that not, after all, the whole point and purpose of the American adventure?" (p. 137)
Still, his love for the wilderness remains an inspiration:
"What good is a Bill of Rights that does not include the right to play, to wander, to explore, the right to stillness and solitude, to discovery and physical freedom? . . . If lucky, we may succeed in making America not the master of the earth (a trivial goal), but rather an example to other nations of what is possible and beautiful. Was that not, after all, the whole point and purpose of the American adventure?" (p. 137)
March 16, 2019
This is a book of travel essays, political essays and biographical essays. Edward Abbey always let his opinions show and they affect the book in different ways. In his travel essays, his opinions really help bring out the flavors of these places, and this is the strongest part of the book. In his political essays, they are too overpowering and this ends up being the book's weakest section. Finally, in his biographical essays, they help bring out a fuller picture of who he was in life. I find his non-fiction to be much stronger than his fiction. While it is not as strong as his classic book, DESERT SOLITAIRE, which I must have read 30 years ago, this is still an enjoyable read.
February 4, 2021
I guess my tastes have changed. I loved Edward Abbey's writing I the 90s. The Monkey Wrench Gang and Desert Solataire were my favorite books then. This one will not be among those. Not sure if I re-read those I would enjoy them now. I won't go on and on about his activism etc...he sure did a lot of that. Somehow reading books by a curmudgeon is not my form of wanting to a) be educated b) be entertained especially now that I am in my declining years. Too little time left to invest in reading books by someone who admits in this one he does for money...oh well...on to another book.
January 18, 2023
Not his best work, but his writing is captivating. His personality is humorous until you remember he’s not just writing a character, he actually is (was) a deeply flawed and problematic person. Could use less navel gazing, less misogyny, less casual 1970s racism for sure. He’s best when writing strictly about nature, and for that I’m always game for his books.
June 22, 2021
Is it about nature, or is it about Edward Abbey? Abbey's masterful writing includes stories of his engagement with life and with the places he has lived it. It's always an adventure to read his books.
February 1, 2022
I think I'm over Abbey. Except for "Desert Solitaire" and "The Monkeywrench Gang," I can't recommend him. The sexism is hard to overlook and just smacks of male fragility. It diminishes all else he has to say.
August 5, 2022
Abbey is clever and writes well. This book appears to have been thrown together to get it published. Abbey was clearly an alcoholic, and it shows. It is impossible to tell when he is lying and when he is giving an honest account of his experiences.
February 20, 2024
Some essays in this collection from the always cantankerous Edward Abbey are better than others. Written in the 1970s, many seem dated although his love of nature and disdain for government come through loud and clear.
August 7, 2019
Classic Abbey at his finest
July 12, 2020
On est très loin de Desert Solitaire.
November 15, 2020
I really liked the second half. Some of the first half stories seem to drag a little. The story on the island in Baja is legendary.
January 13, 2022
Spiritual
January 17, 2022
anything by Abbey is good. This was good.
January 16, 2026
Reading abbey makes me want to adventure 🧳 and write
May 17, 2008
a book of essays composed of three parts (travel, polemics and sermons, and personal history), abbey's road is ed at his finest. candid and compelling (with humor omnipresent), his words excite the imagination, entice our integrity and elucidate our yearning for the natural world. reading ed abbey is a course in good writing.
science with a human face- is such a thing possible anymore? we live in a time when technology and technologists seem determined to make the earth unfit to live upon. according to c.p. snow, scientists are happy in their work, especially when contrasted with poets, novelists, artists, philosophers, all those customarily lumped together in the category of the "humanities." the humanitarians? the term connotes self-mocking futility, reflecting accurately the trend and tempo of the age. but i want to ask mr. snow this question: "sir charles, sir, if the scientists, technicians, researchers, whatever you wish to call them, are so happy in their work and so pleased with the world they are creating, why are they also and at the same time so earnestly devising ever more efficient ways to blow it all to hell?"
~
dreams. we live, as dr. johnson said, from hope to hope. our hope is for a new beginning. a new beginning based not on the destruction of the old but on its reevaluation. it will be the job of another generation of thinkers and doers to keep that hope alive and bring it closer to reality. if lucky, we may succeed in making america not the master of the earth (a trivial goal), but rather an example to other nations of what is possible and beautiful. was that not, after all, the whole point and purpose of the american adventure?
~
walking up the trail to my lookout tower last night, i saw the new moon emerge from a shoal of clouds and hang for a time beyond the black silhouette of a shaggy, giant douglas fir. i stopped to look. and what i saw was the moon- the moon itself, nothing else; and the tree, alive and conscious in its own spiral of time; and my hands, palms upward, raised toward the sky. we are. that is what we know. this is all we can know. and each such moment holds more magic and miracle and mystery than we- so long as we are less than gods- shall ever be able to understand. holds all that we could possibly need- if only we can see. there are no further words.
science with a human face- is such a thing possible anymore? we live in a time when technology and technologists seem determined to make the earth unfit to live upon. according to c.p. snow, scientists are happy in their work, especially when contrasted with poets, novelists, artists, philosophers, all those customarily lumped together in the category of the "humanities." the humanitarians? the term connotes self-mocking futility, reflecting accurately the trend and tempo of the age. but i want to ask mr. snow this question: "sir charles, sir, if the scientists, technicians, researchers, whatever you wish to call them, are so happy in their work and so pleased with the world they are creating, why are they also and at the same time so earnestly devising ever more efficient ways to blow it all to hell?"
~
dreams. we live, as dr. johnson said, from hope to hope. our hope is for a new beginning. a new beginning based not on the destruction of the old but on its reevaluation. it will be the job of another generation of thinkers and doers to keep that hope alive and bring it closer to reality. if lucky, we may succeed in making america not the master of the earth (a trivial goal), but rather an example to other nations of what is possible and beautiful. was that not, after all, the whole point and purpose of the american adventure?
~
walking up the trail to my lookout tower last night, i saw the new moon emerge from a shoal of clouds and hang for a time beyond the black silhouette of a shaggy, giant douglas fir. i stopped to look. and what i saw was the moon- the moon itself, nothing else; and the tree, alive and conscious in its own spiral of time; and my hands, palms upward, raised toward the sky. we are. that is what we know. this is all we can know. and each such moment holds more magic and miracle and mystery than we- so long as we are less than gods- shall ever be able to understand. holds all that we could possibly need- if only we can see. there are no further words.
February 16, 2022
https://writing.adamgeorgiou.com/revi...
I don't know. I'm about 50 pages into this book, and so far I've got mixed feelings. Australia seems so far boring even to the Author. Slow trains. Bad beer. Empty landscape. Idiot company. Tell me how you're coping in said environment. If you're going to drink beer, go full Bukowski. If you're going to describe the area, go full Bryson. If you're going to be bored, make me feel it because I'm there with you, not 'cause your book has me staring out of my own window.
"Alice Springs is a quiet town of 12,000 souls, similar to many towns of that size in the American West, although not so blatantly ugly. Tourism, cattle ranching..." Well there's a hell of a description. How is it ugly?! Why is it important that its ugly?! Might as well give me it's dimensions, in both imperial and metric, to be thorough.
The aborigines are all drunken idiots. Fair enough. I'm fine with having opinions, good and bad, on culture. But seems a little weakly justified. You walked through a few towns and saw some Abos pissed in the gutter. Ok. You can walk through most college towns and see frat idiots in the same position. If you're going to bother describing the people, go out of your way to talk to them a bit! Instead, all we hear is anecdotes and broad statements from the rednecks Abbey's hanging out with. Which is fine. But it's not fair. So now I know how they, the rednecks, feel about the indigenous folk, but are they right about 'em? Go find out and report back! Nope. Back on the train.
This woman was wearing a skirt. That one had great legs. Good. I love women, too. DESCRIBE A FREAKING RELATIONSHIP! Even if it's adulterous, even if it's simple. I don't care. If you're going to bring it up do more that dedicate one paragraph to describing how a tourist girl with legs look better than a middle aged man with a camera and a bad hawaiian shirt. No shit. Literally: "My attention was caught by a pair of smooth brown thighs in short shorts... [5-10 sentences]. She allowed me to buy her a drink that evening... we said goodbye...". Amazing.
There have been some gem epigrams in here. At the moment, too frustrated to go back and find them. As a boozing, hunting, women-loving, outdoors-man myself, I had a lot of expectation for this book, my first of Abbey's. So far, not all that impressed. Then again, when you're pissed off, everything looks grey regardless. Maybe I'm just cranky.
More to come...
I don't know. I'm about 50 pages into this book, and so far I've got mixed feelings. Australia seems so far boring even to the Author. Slow trains. Bad beer. Empty landscape. Idiot company. Tell me how you're coping in said environment. If you're going to drink beer, go full Bukowski. If you're going to describe the area, go full Bryson. If you're going to be bored, make me feel it because I'm there with you, not 'cause your book has me staring out of my own window.
"Alice Springs is a quiet town of 12,000 souls, similar to many towns of that size in the American West, although not so blatantly ugly. Tourism, cattle ranching..." Well there's a hell of a description. How is it ugly?! Why is it important that its ugly?! Might as well give me it's dimensions, in both imperial and metric, to be thorough.
The aborigines are all drunken idiots. Fair enough. I'm fine with having opinions, good and bad, on culture. But seems a little weakly justified. You walked through a few towns and saw some Abos pissed in the gutter. Ok. You can walk through most college towns and see frat idiots in the same position. If you're going to bother describing the people, go out of your way to talk to them a bit! Instead, all we hear is anecdotes and broad statements from the rednecks Abbey's hanging out with. Which is fine. But it's not fair. So now I know how they, the rednecks, feel about the indigenous folk, but are they right about 'em? Go find out and report back! Nope. Back on the train.
This woman was wearing a skirt. That one had great legs. Good. I love women, too. DESCRIBE A FREAKING RELATIONSHIP! Even if it's adulterous, even if it's simple. I don't care. If you're going to bring it up do more that dedicate one paragraph to describing how a tourist girl with legs look better than a middle aged man with a camera and a bad hawaiian shirt. No shit. Literally: "My attention was caught by a pair of smooth brown thighs in short shorts... [5-10 sentences]. She allowed me to buy her a drink that evening... we said goodbye...". Amazing.
There have been some gem epigrams in here. At the moment, too frustrated to go back and find them. As a boozing, hunting, women-loving, outdoors-man myself, I had a lot of expectation for this book, my first of Abbey's. So far, not all that impressed. Then again, when you're pissed off, everything looks grey regardless. Maybe I'm just cranky.
More to come...
May 29, 2012
I knew Abbey as the dusty sage of the Southwest, but I didn’t realize he was a travel writer with tales set in Australia, Italy, Baja, Mexico and Arizona until I picked up his collection Abbey Road. In Oz he gives a stark view of the Great Barrier Reef then on to a grisly life in the real outback on a cattle ranch. He spends a week on an uninhabited Island in Baja where he is mostly nude enjoying the pure sensuality of the place. Some of these stories are reflections from a man who was often in an alcoholic haze apparently numbing him self to sad realities. I was reminded of Hunter S. Thompson’s drug-addled romps while reading these stories. In fact, Abbey proclaimed Thompson to be his writing hero. In spite of a penchant for bourbon, Abbey was a fine writer and his caustic observations and descriptions of his fellows are often humorous. He was a misanthrope with a criminal mind who cared deeply about the environment. He is often described as one of the finest nature writers, a title he never quite understood as he wrote about much more than nature. He died in 1989 at 62 leaving behind Desert Solitaire considered a classic in environmental writings and his mischievous novel the Monkey Wrench Gang. He asked to buried, without fan fare, in his sleeping bag in the desert of Arizona, so that his body might serve as nourishment for a cactus garden. His works continue to be a source of amusement and nourishment for the urban dweller in need of re-connection to the planet.
October 23, 2015
Edward Abbey is an icon of the desert Southwest and a person with a unique if repetitious view of our recent path toward roads thru every wilderness and rules for every citizen. Written in 1979, one would think that there would be very little here for the modern reader of journalistic prose. What a surprise that this is not the case. As John Leonard aptly intones "I have been along a few of Mr. Abbey's roads. He sees much more than I did. Indeed, reading him is often better than being there was."
Abbey picks some good adventures to allow us to be a "fly on the wall" while he somehow squeaks through some pretty tough spots. Each chapter in this book tells a different tale of some half baked plan he has decided to experience. Whether it's the wild interior desert of Australia (where the commentary on the aboriginal and immigrant intersection is classic), or the visit to the Tarahumara's country in the Sierra Madre of Mexico, one feels richer for the details this rebel perceives.
Abbey is a true wilderness lover and a unique voice. Few of his observations would stand the test today's PC police. What I take from this book is that we should get out of our data to day drama and go meet some of the interesting characters that inhabit our planet. This is not about paying $50,000 to get to the top of Everest. Abbey has the imagination to come up with an objective and the intelligence to see the nuances and context of the situations he has chosen.
Abbey picks some good adventures to allow us to be a "fly on the wall" while he somehow squeaks through some pretty tough spots. Each chapter in this book tells a different tale of some half baked plan he has decided to experience. Whether it's the wild interior desert of Australia (where the commentary on the aboriginal and immigrant intersection is classic), or the visit to the Tarahumara's country in the Sierra Madre of Mexico, one feels richer for the details this rebel perceives.
Abbey is a true wilderness lover and a unique voice. Few of his observations would stand the test today's PC police. What I take from this book is that we should get out of our data to day drama and go meet some of the interesting characters that inhabit our planet. This is not about paying $50,000 to get to the top of Everest. Abbey has the imagination to come up with an objective and the intelligence to see the nuances and context of the situations he has chosen.
August 15, 2014
Disclaimer: I am fueled by a love for Edward Abbey's words.
Much of Abbey's Road is related to travel, his time spent in places--other places, temporary home, road trips and river trips. The people come and go--bit players--but central to each vignette is always Mr. Abbey himself. His time spent in Australia is quite fascinating, there's much of Mexico, and rivers and travel. He waxes both political and poetical, with pointed arguments in both directions.
Truly, he writes on a variety of topics--often tied nicely with his anarchy and activism, conservation environmentalism. He's scruffy and irreverent, and usually naked. He is a druid in a worn-out ranger uniform, a bearded bard of the desert, a staunch defender of not only the wild but the necessary IDEAL of the wild.
These essays are both diverse and linked. Funny and touching and pseudo-philosophizing. Nothing off-limits to Mr. Abbey. Read him and be made whole.
Much of Abbey's Road is related to travel, his time spent in places--other places, temporary home, road trips and river trips. The people come and go--bit players--but central to each vignette is always Mr. Abbey himself. His time spent in Australia is quite fascinating, there's much of Mexico, and rivers and travel. He waxes both political and poetical, with pointed arguments in both directions.
Truly, he writes on a variety of topics--often tied nicely with his anarchy and activism, conservation environmentalism. He's scruffy and irreverent, and usually naked. He is a druid in a worn-out ranger uniform, a bearded bard of the desert, a staunch defender of not only the wild but the necessary IDEAL of the wild.
These essays are both diverse and linked. Funny and touching and pseudo-philosophizing. Nothing off-limits to Mr. Abbey. Read him and be made whole.
April 23, 2007
apart from "Desert Solitaire," Abbey's nonfiction is rather indistinguishable to me, still I've read and enjoyed it, and always take some Abbey with me on trips to the desert--
"Few of us would be willing to exchange our place in European industrial culture for a place in that ancient and primitive society. We feel our world is more open, vast, and free than that of primitive man. Perhaps it is. But what we have gained in depth and breadth we may have lost in immediacy and intensity. For the savage hunter, every day and every night must have been an adventure on the edge of exaltation or despair. We don't know. How can we know? We do know what life has become for most of the time for most Europeans-Aussies-Americans. It has become soap opera. Tragic but tedious."
"Few of us would be willing to exchange our place in European industrial culture for a place in that ancient and primitive society. We feel our world is more open, vast, and free than that of primitive man. Perhaps it is. But what we have gained in depth and breadth we may have lost in immediacy and intensity. For the savage hunter, every day and every night must have been an adventure on the edge of exaltation or despair. We don't know. How can we know? We do know what life has become for most of the time for most Europeans-Aussies-Americans. It has become soap opera. Tragic but tedious."
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