Add a dose of survivalist paranoia as he sees one strong reason to support National Parks to be preserving a staging area for rebel militias after big government comes after us all. Toss in some other dark impulses when he suggests that perhaps birth control for some poor people should be mandatory. As such he taps into some tried and true American themes such as the romantic myth of self-sufficiency and our persistent national history of anti-city bias. While he offers detail and poetry about the desert and about untouched places, he sneers at the urban, at those he sees as lesser than himself. And while he may wish for us as readers to appreciate what he appreciates, he seems uninterested in allowing for other joys by other people. It is one thing to have a deep and abiding appreciation for a place, a thing, an experience, an environment, but Abbey seems determined that only certain sorts should be allowed to share that joy. However, I have concluded, with apologies to Ernest Thompson, that Edward Abbey is an old poop. He tells tales of people he has known and in doing so enhances an image of his southwest as at once a beautiful and terrible place. In the 18 essays that make up the book, he offers not only his appreciation for the sometimes harsh environment of Utah and Arizona, but his notions on things political.
As a ranger at Arches National Park he had a close relationship with some of our country’s most exquisite scenery. Desert Solitaire seemed the right book to take along on a trip to the southwest in September 2009.Ībbey writes of the beauty of the southwest.
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