Best (and worst) books in the wild
In general, the outdoors is bigger than the indoors, so it’s not much of a surprise that there’s more than one school of thought about camping and nature. Among them, there is the John Muir school: longing to escape the modern, artificial world and breathe fresh air, see the stars and sleep closer to the earth and its wonders.
Then there’s the Kurt Vonnegut school: “If people think nature is their friend, then they sure don’t need an enemy.”
Regardless of which camping-related camp you inhabit, the solitude of the great outdoors is a swell opportunity to dive into a good book — especially since you typically have to go without Wi-Fi. Some books, it turns out, are better than others — and some are just a really bad idea, considering the vulnerability of being at the whim of Mother Nature (among other potential villains).
Here’s my list of best and worst books for reading by the fire over s’mores.
BEST BOOKS FOR CAMPING “The Yosemite” (John Muir)
The majority of literature about the outdoors consists of guides on how to survive it or tales of those who endured it. Muir didn’t just like nature — he bathed in it, celebrated it and got drunk on it. And his sense of awe shows in nearly every page as he explores parts of the West’s most famous wilderness, in a way few sane people did. (Without high-tech sleeping bag or GoreTex.) At the beginning, Muir asks a stranger in San Francisco the fastest way out of town, to which the man asks where Muir wants to go. “To any place that is wild.” (Never mind that the man directs him to the Oakland ferry.)
“A Walk in the Woods” (Bill Bryson)
Bryson’s respect for nature on his hike of the Appalachian Trail comes out in the sheer tonnage of information he learned before and during the hike, as well as in the mind-numbing fear he expresses every times he thinks he might be killed by bears, rock slides, ticks and hillbillies. You pick up on his increasing comfort with the outdoors along the way — although if you’re camping anytime soon, you might want to skip the chapter on bear maulings.
“Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail” (Cheryl Strayed)
Inspiring book about a woman in crisis walking the Pacific Crest Trail (think “Into the Woods” with more personal angst and smaller boots) and
becomes stronger facing the challenges of distance, animals and elements. It’s a little intimidating considering your biggest challenge while camping is remembering the citronella incense, but if the story moves you to go a little beyond your outdoors comfort An undated photo of John Muir (1838-1914), who just wanted to be alone, or at least away from the urban crowds. zone, it’s worth the read.
“Worst-Case Scenario Almanac: The Great Outdoors” (Chronicle Books)
When it started, this series of books stuck close to advice for getting out of situations. With time, the authors have expanded it to include data about all the situations you could face — avalanches, bears, deserts, cliffs — arming the reader with how to avoid trouble in the first place. While not exactly an inspiring tale, it’s a page-turner that’s informative and entertaining, and you will say, “Oh, that’s how to do that.”
“Over The Edge: Death in Grand Canyon” (Michael P. Ghiglieri and Thomas M. Myers)
If nothing else, this account of every fatal incident in the country’s most famous national park can make you feel better about your own outdoorsy shortcomings. You haven’t, for instance, backed over a cliff when a photographer said “Just a little more.” And while death shouldn’t be comical, the authors tap into the absurdity of the situations, and organize the tales by type — chapters include “Say, how many people fall from here?,” “The Killer Colorado,” and “Critters and Cacti.” The book is also a good reminder to stay on trail. Seriously.
WORST BOOKS FOR CAMPING “Into the Wild” (Jon Krakauer)
If you’re too stupid to respect nature, it can (and probably will) kill you. That summarizes Krakauer’s story of Chris McCandless, the college graduate who gave all his money to charity to pursue a nomadic life — which included wanwho dering into the Alaskan wilderness and starving to death. Krakauer portrays McCandless as a tragic, romantic figure, but what’s clear is the kid didn’t respect nature, wasn’t prepared for it and paid the price. It’s not a good camp book because the writing about starving might guilt you out of eating camp food — which is one of the main reasons to go camping.
“Suicide Forest” (Jeremy Bates)
The only thing worse than being in the great outdoors and reading a novel about a dense, dark forest where 50 to 100 people a year go to commit suicide — and where crews have to do sweeps to pick up the corpses — is when you find out the place is real. The Aokigahara Forest at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan is widely known as the Suicide Forest, and even if you don’t believe in ghosts, the idea of finding random bodies hanging from trees makes the “Blair Witch Project” seem like “La La Land.” Probably one to avoid.
“The Road” (Cormac McCarthy)
This Pulitzer Prize-winning work is a postapocalyptic tale of a father and son who go on a journey through a scorched-earth United States to get to the sea, the one scrap of potential in an otherwise brutally hopeless tale. (Think “Into the Woods,” but with a shopping cart, ashes, a gun with two bullets and roving gangs of cannibals.) Not a book you want to read with a camping knife or marshmallow skewers handy.