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readingunderamushroom's review against another edition
challenging
hopeful
informative
inspiring
fast-paced
5.0
chrislatray's review against another edition
5.0
The ability to walk, to move through the world under our own power, is a gift. It is the foundation beneath essentially every advancement in human history. From the long view of evolution, it has been only the tiniest margin of time that, as a species, we were able to get anywhere at all without walking there first. Walking, our “ability to stride the earth with our strange, falling-forward-yet-never-quite-falling motion,” is an incredibly complex process most of us take completely for granted.
The physical workings are so intricate that engineers have thus far been almost completely incapable of making robots walk on two legs, at least not in any way that resembles what a human is capable of even as a toddler. In her new book, A Walking Life: Reclaiming Our Health and Freedom One Step at a Time, author Antonia Malchik takes us by the shoulders to remind us of this gift, and then reveal all the ways we are ceding this physical freedom in ways detrimental not only to our physical and mental health, but to how we relate to each other and the world around us.
A Walking Life covers significant territory in eight chapters, each cleverly titled with an adjective that may be applied to walking; “Toddle," for example, discusses the drive to learn to walk by humans from their earliest age. “March” describes the important connection to walking as a critical form of protest, and how governments and capitalist interests work to make such assemblies impossible. “Lurch” talks of our surrender of public walking space to automobile traffic and the racially-motivated decisions over what neighborhoods were destroyed to make way for more, and wider, roadways.
Deep scholarship — Malchik did her homework for this book—is alleviated by anecdotes supplied by people the author interviewed, as well as her own walking excursions, as best exemplified in the chapter “Meander.” For all the information, the reading is never dry. Malchik writes with a wonderful, accessible voice that I found humorous and inspiring. Every time I set the book aside, the first thing I wanted to do was get up and walk somewhere distant, and slowly.
Which leads me to a deep consideration of my own typical walking paths. I take my walking seriously. It even appears as an occupation on my business card. And yet, to truly enjoy a traverse, I have to drive somewhere first. I live just off a rural frontage road that separates me by at least 10 miles from anywhere remotely urban, yet to walk it is a dangerous risk. It is narrow, there is no shoulder, and traffic speeds by with little awareness that it shares the road with anything other than cars. Gigantic pickups ignoring the speed limit, drivers with eyes turned away and obviously distracted by devices, and other hurtling perils often make me uneasy to drive it, let alone expose myself afoot at its edges. Joggers and bicyclists are common in warmer weather, and I’m certain they all approach their recreation with trepidation.
The same can be said of my ambulations in downtown Missoula. On any afternoon it is a chaotic swirl of traffic, with bikes and pedestrians alike alert to dodge careless drivers. It is a miracle the carnage isn’t greater. I don’t know anyone who spends any real time downtown who doesn’t have a story about nearly being struck by an inattentive, and usually surly, driver. Cars bring out the worst of our behaviors, not the least of which is entitlement. But at least we downtown denizens can walk around. It is essentially impossible to do that anywhere else and still be engaged in any kind of community activity, popping in and out of shops, seeing and striking up conversations with old friends and acquaintances. These are the connections that make a city someplace anyone would want to live, connections that make cities livable.
A Walking Life recognizes that some of the territory we’ve given up isn’t coming back to us. But it isn’t too late to reclaim the freedom we can all enjoy if we begin to stand our ground when it comes to the protection of public, walkable places. It isn’t too late to rediscover this miracle we have carried with us for tens of thousands of years. “Through our feet,” Antonia Malchik tells us, “we are reminded that the planet is a whole thing, and that we are animals evolved to traverse it with a sure step and elongated spines.” It isn’t too late to remember.
The physical workings are so intricate that engineers have thus far been almost completely incapable of making robots walk on two legs, at least not in any way that resembles what a human is capable of even as a toddler. In her new book, A Walking Life: Reclaiming Our Health and Freedom One Step at a Time, author Antonia Malchik takes us by the shoulders to remind us of this gift, and then reveal all the ways we are ceding this physical freedom in ways detrimental not only to our physical and mental health, but to how we relate to each other and the world around us.
A Walking Life covers significant territory in eight chapters, each cleverly titled with an adjective that may be applied to walking; “Toddle," for example, discusses the drive to learn to walk by humans from their earliest age. “March” describes the important connection to walking as a critical form of protest, and how governments and capitalist interests work to make such assemblies impossible. “Lurch” talks of our surrender of public walking space to automobile traffic and the racially-motivated decisions over what neighborhoods were destroyed to make way for more, and wider, roadways.
Deep scholarship — Malchik did her homework for this book—is alleviated by anecdotes supplied by people the author interviewed, as well as her own walking excursions, as best exemplified in the chapter “Meander.” For all the information, the reading is never dry. Malchik writes with a wonderful, accessible voice that I found humorous and inspiring. Every time I set the book aside, the first thing I wanted to do was get up and walk somewhere distant, and slowly.
Which leads me to a deep consideration of my own typical walking paths. I take my walking seriously. It even appears as an occupation on my business card. And yet, to truly enjoy a traverse, I have to drive somewhere first. I live just off a rural frontage road that separates me by at least 10 miles from anywhere remotely urban, yet to walk it is a dangerous risk. It is narrow, there is no shoulder, and traffic speeds by with little awareness that it shares the road with anything other than cars. Gigantic pickups ignoring the speed limit, drivers with eyes turned away and obviously distracted by devices, and other hurtling perils often make me uneasy to drive it, let alone expose myself afoot at its edges. Joggers and bicyclists are common in warmer weather, and I’m certain they all approach their recreation with trepidation.
The same can be said of my ambulations in downtown Missoula. On any afternoon it is a chaotic swirl of traffic, with bikes and pedestrians alike alert to dodge careless drivers. It is a miracle the carnage isn’t greater. I don’t know anyone who spends any real time downtown who doesn’t have a story about nearly being struck by an inattentive, and usually surly, driver. Cars bring out the worst of our behaviors, not the least of which is entitlement. But at least we downtown denizens can walk around. It is essentially impossible to do that anywhere else and still be engaged in any kind of community activity, popping in and out of shops, seeing and striking up conversations with old friends and acquaintances. These are the connections that make a city someplace anyone would want to live, connections that make cities livable.
A Walking Life recognizes that some of the territory we’ve given up isn’t coming back to us. But it isn’t too late to reclaim the freedom we can all enjoy if we begin to stand our ground when it comes to the protection of public, walkable places. It isn’t too late to rediscover this miracle we have carried with us for tens of thousands of years. “Through our feet,” Antonia Malchik tells us, “we are reminded that the planet is a whole thing, and that we are animals evolved to traverse it with a sure step and elongated spines.” It isn’t too late to remember.
mybestfriendisabook's review against another edition
hopeful
informative
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
A blend of biology, history, politics, accessibility, infrastructure, and more. I learned that walking is powerful in so many ways and we often take it for granted along with a couple other fun facts. I’m inspired to walk more for my health in all aspects-physical, mental, and emotional. I enjoyed the author’s closing adventurous story. I also love the book cover of the little people. 🚶🏻♀️🚶🚶♂️
belovedsnail's review against another edition
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
4.25
tinaathena's review against another edition
4.0
I went for a walk everytime I put this book down so in a way it is an extraordinary achievement
lizziehutchins's review against another edition
3.0
Mentions the Black Lives Matter Minneapolis 1-94 shutdown.
"Where you see a highway cutting through a city, people had lived there. Hundreds of communities with neighbors and families and all sorts of social capital and interpersonal dynamics.
"Where you see a highway cutting through a city, people had lived there. Hundreds of communities with neighbors and families and all sorts of social capital and interpersonal dynamics.
campbelltaral's review
5.0
The subtitle does not do justice to the content of this book. This isn't a self-help, breathless cure-all for the world's ills, but rather a homage to walking and what we've lost to car culture. There's a whole chapter dedicated to disability where walking is redefined in an inclusive way, and an overarching look at how the loss of walking has devastated our sense of community.
kaleskorner's review
4.0
I have to be honest, I don't really know why I picked up this book. I don't even remember the publicist saying Denver was highlighted in it when she gave it to me. It just sounded interesting. A history of walking and humans being bipedal is not normally up my alley. But damn, I really liked this book. I learned so much and thought it was a unique and easy read.
One of the best parts of this book was the variety of perspectives it offered. It went into the evolutionary history of bipedal mobility, the history of motorways and how American because a car-oriented state, how walking became "dangerous", the walk-ability of cities, and how walking can be used as a weapon through the power of assembly. Each chapter presented something unique and then so seamlessly tied it into walking. It was intriguing and fascinating.
At points, the book was a little preachy which I understand why but I didn't need it. Her message came across just fine and with all the importance it needed without the added "Here is why walking is good and you must do it" message. It was a little "hit you over the head" which was unnecessary.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and haven't been able to stop talking about it as something unexpectedly enjoyable. I can't wait for the author to come to Denver and to write a staff recommends about this book because I think others will like it too.
Conclusion: Buy hardcover
One of the best parts of this book was the variety of perspectives it offered. It went into the evolutionary history of bipedal mobility, the history of motorways and how American because a car-oriented state, how walking became "dangerous", the walk-ability of cities, and how walking can be used as a weapon through the power of assembly. Each chapter presented something unique and then so seamlessly tied it into walking. It was intriguing and fascinating.
At points, the book was a little preachy which I understand why but I didn't need it. Her message came across just fine and with all the importance it needed without the added "Here is why walking is good and you must do it" message. It was a little "hit you over the head" which was unnecessary.
Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and haven't been able to stop talking about it as something unexpectedly enjoyable. I can't wait for the author to come to Denver and to write a staff recommends about this book because I think others will like it too.
Conclusion: Buy hardcover
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