Audiobook Sample
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- Title: Walking
- Author: Henry David Thoreau
- Narrator: John Skelley
- Length: 01:23:50
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 14/01/2021
- Publisher: ABC Publishing
- Genre: Sleep, Bedtime Stories
- ISBN13: SABSLP9780007
There’s something about the open road – or in this case, an open trail – that calls to me. It reminds me of a time when I was driving through the Atacama Desert in Chile, the driest place on Earth, listening to “One Hundred Years of Solitude” on audiobook. The surreal landscape stretched out like a canvas of García Márquez’s magical realism, and the narrator’s voice wove it all together, as if an elder were whispering tales by a flickering campfire. Henry David Thoreau’s “Walking”, narrated by John Skelley, stirs that same sense of wonder in me, though this time it’s not the desert’s stark beauty but the lush, untamed wildness of nature that takes center stage. This audiobook, part of Audiobooks.com’s Bedtime Sleep Stories Collection, offers a soothing escape – a chance to saunter through Thoreau’s words and reconnect with the earth beneath our feet.
“Walking” began as a lecture called ‘The Wild’ back in 1851, later finding its way into the “Atlantic Monthly” in 1862 after Thoreau’s death. It’s a love letter to nature, a plea for us to see ourselves as part of it rather than apart from it. Thoreau doesn’t just talk about walking; he elevates it to an art form – sauntering, he calls it, borrowing from the medieval pilgrims who wandered toward the Holy Land, or “Sainte-Terre”. For him, it’s a spiritual act, a way to shed civilization’s weight and breathe in the wildness we’ve lost touch with. You can almost hear the crunch of leaves underfoot, the rustle of wind through branches, as he urges us to respect nature in a world that so often forgets to.
The audiobook experience amplifies this intimacy. At just over 5 minutes long, it’s a brief but potent listen – perfect for unwinding before sleep, as the Bedtime Stories Collection intends. John Skelley’s narration is a quiet revelation. His voice carries a calm, deliberate cadence, like a friend recounting a cherished memory over a cup of tea. It’s not rushed or overly dramatic; it’s steady, letting Thoreau’s lyrical prose shine. You can almost taste the crisp air of a New England forest as Skelley reads lines like, ‘I wish to speak a word for Nature, for absolute freedom and wildness.’ The audio quality is clean and warm, wrapping you in a cocoon of sound that feels both personal and expansive – a rare feat for such a short recording.
For me, this audiobook taps into memories of evenings in Oaxaca, where I once stayed with a family whose grandmother spun stories under a starlit sky. Her voice had this mesmerizing quality – pauses perfectly timed, silences as heavy as her words. Skelley captures something of that oral tradition here, turning Thoreau’s essay into a fireside tale. I’ve always believed the best narrators don’t just read; they invite you in, and Skelley does that effortlessly. Listening to “Walking” feels like sitting with Thoreau himself, his passion for the wild unfolding like a path through the woods.
Thematically, “Walking” is pure Thoreau – Transcendentalism at its core. He’s railing against the taming of the human spirit, urging us to reclaim our place in the natural world. There’s a timelessness to his argument that hits hard in 2025, when screens dominate and green spaces shrink. He contrasts the ‘wildness’ of nature with the confines of civilization, and it’s a tension I’ve felt on my own travels – whether hiking in Patagonia or sipping mezcal in a Oaxacan village, where life still feels tethered to the land. Thoreau’s idea of walking as exploration, both outward and inward, resonates with anyone who’s ever sought solace in movement.
But it’s not all romantic reverie. Some critics – myself included, at times – find Thoreau’s view a touch idealized. He paints nature as a cure-all, a realm of purity, without wrestling much with its harsher realities. I’ve camped in torrential rain, bitten by mosquitoes, and wondered if ‘wildness’ is always as noble as he makes it out to be. Still, his prose is so vivid, so alive, that you forgive the rose-tinted lens. Lines like ‘In wildness is the preservation of the world’ stick with you, a call to action wrapped in poetry.
Skelley’s performance lifts this audiobook beyond a mere reading. His tone matches the essay’s meditative spirit, making it a standout in the sleep and bedtime stories genre. It’s not a traditional story, mind you – no plot or characters – just Thoreau musing on nature and freedom. Yet its brevity and soothing delivery make it an ideal wind-down listen. Compared to “Walden”, his denser masterpiece, “Walking” is lighter, more accessible – perfect for dipping into his philosophy without committing hours. It shares DNA with Emerson’s “Nature” or even Annie Dillard’s reflective wanderings, though Thoreau’s voice is uniquely his own: earnest, a little stubborn, and deeply felt.
The free audiobook aspect is a gift. Available exclusively on Audiobooks.com, it’s a no-cost way to experience a classic reimagined for modern ears. That accessibility matters – Thoreau would’ve loved the idea of his words reaching anyone with a phone and a moment to spare. Still, its shortness might leave you wanting more; it’s a taste, not a feast. For sleep purposes, that’s a strength – long enough to settle your mind, short enough to drift off before it ends. But if you’re craving a deeper dive into Thoreau’s world, you might pair it with “Walden” or a longer nature narrative.
I’d recommend this to anyone who loves the outdoors, or who, like me, finds peace in stories that bridge the human and the wild. It’s for the traveler who’s felt the pull of an open path, the dreamer who craves quiet amidst the noise. It’s not perfect – its idealism can feel detached from today’s complexities – but it’s a beautiful reminder of what we stand to lose if we forget our roots in the earth. For me, it’s a chance to slow down, to listen, to walk alongside Thoreau for a fleeting, soulful moment.
Until our next journey, amigos – keep listening, keep wandering,
Marcus Rivera
