Ken Ilgunas

I no longer update this site, aside from adding published articles and media interviews. You'll find my weekly essays and podcast episodes on my Substack page .

This is a fun, delightful read about a hermit who lived in the Maine woods for 27 years. The hermit, Christopher Knight, stole food, clothes, and books from nearby homeowners. According to Knight, Knight said one word (“hi”) to one person (a random hiker) during those 27 years. He is eventually caught by a law enforcement official and imprisoned for his crimes. Knight is not a guy who we’re going to revere or glorify the way we might revere other hermits, such as a Henry David Thoreau or a Chris McCandless. We look to hermits to tell us a bit about ourselves; to deliver a little sage wisdom from a mountaintop or a cabin in the woods. Knight has his moments of wisdom, but he’s neither sage nor lovable hero. Knight stole, drank, and ate a lot of sugar, which rotted his teeth. He’s cranky and arrogant. He looks down on the rest of humanity, even though Knight admits that many of his deeds were far from pardonable. He can’t be looked up to. But just because we can’t look up to him doesn’t mean we can’t be intrigued by him. What made him take off into the woods? Was it something from Knight’s past? These are questions that largely go unanswered, despite the author’s great efforts to understand and connect with his subject. There were times I wanted the author to dissect Knight’s brain a bit more: to help Knight articulate why he ventured out into the woods. The book seems to be something of an unsolved mystery. But if this is its weakness, it’s also its strength: It gives you, as reader, space to interpret and wonder. And you can’t place any blame on the author: he may have been dealing with the most reticent man alive, and the author made more than half a dozen (sometimes fruitless) trips from his home in Montana to Maine to get to the bottom of things. I found myself laughing out loud at the absurdity of Knight’s predicament. (Wishing to be sent to solitary confinement when he’s in jail, having to move into his mom’s house as a middle-age man, brusquely rejecting the author’s earnest overtures.) And yet there are moments when I felt deeply for Knight. I rooted for Knight to either find some happy compromise with society, or to just disappear again into the woods, where he belongs. Knight may have been an extremist in his quest for solitude, but he was not crazy. The book is a comedy, tragedy, and mystery, but also a paean to solitude, to the contentment that comes from being alone, to the simple joy of melting into the natural world. One of the underlying messages of the book, which I’m on board with, is that there’s nothing crazy or wrong or even weird about wanting to be alone. For many, it’s a luxury. For some, a necessity.

Movies Land and Sons (Iceland, 1980) I don’t know how anyone would access this delightful little film, but I watched it on a connecting flight from Toronto to Reykjavik. It’s about a young man who’s apathetic about his country life. His father, neighbors, dog, horse (and a fetching milkmaid) all love him and want him to remain on the farm, but he is so drawn to the city that he’s willing to abandon everything. It’s set in Iceland, but it’s a universal story about rural exodus and shaking one's roots free, for better or worse. B The Teacher’s Lounge (Germany, 2023) A nightmarish “educational thriller” about a teacher whose sensible decisions get misinterpreted by an inflexible bureaucracy. It reminded me a bit of the French film, The Class, in which small mistakes by a well-meaning teacher lead the teacher to the edge of ruin. I didn’t get the ending of this one, though, which means that it was either cowardly and noncommittally ambiguous or smarter than me (probably smarter). B- American Fiction (USA, 2023) This film blends cultural commentary with a conventional romantic side-plot. The film is at its best when it’s skewering culture; it feels like warmed leftovers when it’s trying to be normal. Sometimes a movie leaves you with an “it was fine” feeling. There’s nothing that special about the plot of the TV show, "The Bear," but what elevates "The Bear" is aesthetic vision, risky artistic choices, innovative editing, and a killer soundtrack. American Fiction had no style, which could have elevated it into something special. B- The Iron Claw (USA, 2023) Zac Efron definitely deserves an Oscar nomination. This is an important movie about family and masculinity, pointing us in the right direction. B Showing Up (USA, 2022) Kelly Reichardt is a top-3 director for me. Her Night Moves (2013) is one of my favorites and has weirdly been all but ignored. Showing Up is a lesser Reichardt but a lesser Reichardt is still a good movie. B Poor Things (USA, 2023) **spoilers** I’ve seen almost every Yorgos Lanthimos movie and I admire how he sets his movies in an alternate universe that is uncannily like our own, but absent of some of our most significant trappings, such as our post-Augustinian puritanical sex mores. In Poor Things, Bella’s narrative arc felt full, but the destination — a dead father, a lobotomized ex (turned into a pet goat), and a sexless husband — had me wondering what the film was saying. Was Bella — who was built and controlled by men — now merely the controller of men? Did she, in her choice of husband, abandon her propensity for sensual delight for upper-class comfort? Did this very naughty film, in the last second, turn stuffily conservative? B Dune II (USA, 2023) The visuals and action were unforgettable, and this was masterfully made, though I think I wish director Denis Villeneuve had kept making minor and memorable hits rather than getting entangled in another endless franchise. (When will be afflicted with Dune’s first trio of Disney+ spinoffs?) I feel like this trilogy should have ended after this one, as there is seemingly not much to draw on for a third movie. B- Shot Caller (USA, 2017) This is the sort of violent prison-and-drugs film I’d go out of my way not to see unless it’s recommended by a trusted source, and in this case it was by the team at The Rewatchables podcast. This one worked because of an all-in performance by Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Jaime Lannister from "Game of Thrones") and one of the most authentic death scenes (there are a couple) by an actor who shall not be named. B My four-tiered prison movie hall of fame pyramid The Rewatchables guys talked about their four-tiered, pyramid-style prison movie "hall of fame," which looks very different from my slightly more pretentious hall of fame, with some TV sprinkled in: Top tier: Shawshank Redemption (USA, 1994) Second tier: Un Prophete (France, 2009); Escape at Dannemora (2018) Third tier: Hunger (Ireland, 2008), The Passion of Joan of Arc (France, 1928), American History X (1998) Fourth tier: Black Bird (USA, 2022); Shot Caller (USA, 2017); Bad Boys (USA, 1983); Louie Theroux: Miami Mega Jail (UK, 2011) TV The White Lotus, Seasons 1 & 2 Dark and funny, The White Lotus is laser-focused on locating and then yanking our culture’s raw nerve endings, whether it’s race, male malaise, or non-monogamy. It would be so easy for this show to be nothing more than a cynical satire about rich white people, but it is secretly sweet at its core. The filmmakers love their characters, giving them meaningful arcs in lands of plenty. A- Roast of Tom Brady Did we just watch something culturally significant? There was a palpable air of release on the dais, where a lot of buttoned-up people loosened their ties, untucked their shirts, took shots together and at each other. There was an air of carnivalesque jubilee that became more feral with each passing hour. Comedians said the unsayable and America, all at once, experienced a cleansing release. It says something that football fans (the most cynical and hard-to-please people in the world) were uncharacteristically full of praise: “Best roast I have ever watched”; “Bill was awesome”; “savage af”; “The Hernandez jokes were amazibg.” Nikki Glaser and Tony Hinchcliffe were the night’s big winners. YouTube The Gloria Films In 1965, three psychotherapists met with Gloria, a divorced mom. The film series was a way of showing the public three variations of therapy (person-centered, gestalt, and rational emotive therapy). These videos are not only instructive but highly entertaining. Gloria is very likable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nc5v3HNZhjw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpUVR43jZHk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jg5o0479uUQ Professor Sarah Paine for President! A podcaster interviews Sarah Paine, a professor of history and strategy at the Naval War College, about WWII, modern China, and the Ukraine/Russia war. You could not spend 2.5 hours any better. Podcasts Ezra Klein Podcast with Ari Shavit — I am embarrassed with how little I know about the Israel-Palestine conflict and I have been puzzled by, what I perceive to be, an overly strident and un-nuanced approach by many college protesters. I’ve been trying to catch up via podcasts. I found this one to be the most helpful. The Art of Manliness Podcast with…. umm… Me! — Brett and I talk about vandwelling, debt, and my quest to re-institutionalize my life. Speaking Last week, I went on a tiny speaking tour, involving a high school in Seattle, a keynote address for Ithaca College’s Sustainability Week, and a talk at a Western New York high school, where they'd assigned my first book, Walden on Wheels. I was glad to see that WoW has themes that are resonating with this generation's upperclassmen. If your high school or college is looking for a reasonably-priced speaker, feel free to send an email my way. write, sow, and throw I am now back in Scotland, eager to start up my next rec league softball season and get my hands dirty in the garden. I’m taking night courses to someday qualify as a psychotherapist, which I hope will be a stable side gig that will be independently enriching while helping to support my unstable writing career. After a three-year pitching hiatus — in which a series of failed pitches snapped my literary spine — I’m starting to send out ideas to newspapers and magazines.

Click here for the show. The show notes from the Art of Manliness web page: Millions of young adults know what it’s like to graduate from college with student debt. For some, it’s a frustrating annoyance. For others, it’s a worry-inducing burden. For Ken Ilgunas, it was a dragon in need of slaying and a pathway to adventure. Ken is the author of Walden on Wheels: On the Open Road from Debt to Freedom, and today on the show, he shares the story of how his quest to erase his debt led him to the Arctic Circle and through the peaks and valleys of living a totally unshackled life. Ken explains why he went to Alaska to work as a truckstop burger flipper and park ranger to pay off his student debt, what it’s like to hitchhike across the country, how reading Thoreau’s Walden got him questioning how we live our lives, and how that inspiration led him to living in his van while attending grad school at Duke. Along the way, Ken shares his meditations on nonconformity, engaging in romantic pursuits, and the benefits of both de-institutionalizing and re-institutionalizing your life. Resources Related to the Podcast Walden by Henry David Thoreau AoM Podcast #841: What People Get Wrong About Walden AoM Podcast #473: The Solitude of a Fire Watcher AoM Article: How to Hitchhike Around the USA Sunday Firesides: The Cost of a Thing

I listened to my first podcast in 2009, when a friend and I, on a long drive from Alaska to Denver, connected his iPod to his car stereo. As my friend and I drove across the Yukon Territory we laughed hysterically to the “Fiasco” episode on “This American Life.” I was mesmerized by the innovative sounds and mind-blowing science of Radiolab. We went through his archives of the Ricky Gervais Show (mainly Gervais and Stephen Merchant relentlessly teasing their producer, Karl Pilkington, who may quietly be one of the funniest humans on earth). At the time, I thought this new medium would provide me with convenient edification and a few laughs. Little did I know that it would compel me to reconstruct my face (I’ll get to that in a minute) and reconfigure my worldview. There is no clear answer as to who made the first podcast. People have been recording and sharing audio files since the early days of the Internet. But 2004, three years after the release of the iPod, is as good a year as any to use as the medium’s origins. It was then when the term “podcast” was coined by a Guardian writer, who combined the “pod” from “iPod” and “cast” from “broadcast.” The year 2009 — the year of my road trip — seems like a pivotal year for the medium, too. That’s when the public was catching on and when some of today’s podcasting giants — Marc Maron and Joe Rogan — created their shows. I didn’t buy a smartphone until 2017, so, in these early years, I listened to podcasts by downloading hundreds of hours of content onto my laptop, which would help me stay informed from the remotest of places. It’s been said that Alaskan homesteaders, living in the wilderness during their time-rich winters and with their volumes of periodicals, were more informed as citizens than the city-dwellers in the lower-48. For me, it wasn’t periodicals, but podcasts, that connected me to the realm of ideas. The summer of 2011 was my “summer of podcasts.” I was writing Walden on Wheels as the writer-in-residence in Coldfoot, Alaska. I had no Internet, but, every night, I’d lay in bed, in my shack, surrounded by the Boreal forest, listening to the speakers of my laptop emit the unworldly noises and mind-blowing science of Radiolab. Partly because of this nighttime routine, I think of that summer as one of my happiest. [The Jad Abumrad/Robert Krulwich era of Radiolab (2005-2017), I’d say, is the high water mark of podcasting excellence.] I have no “theme songs” to my formative road trips and romances. I have, rather, the episodes of “Stuff You Missed in History Class” on my drive through South Dakota; the first Serial season in my spacious Nebraska rental home; my binge-listen to S-Town (the greatest podcast of all-time) from the comfort of my old home in the Appalachian foothills. On my first road trip with my now-wife across Quebec, I can’t tell you what music we listened to, but I can list a handful of podcast titles. The first three years of being a parent were sort of like living in the Alaskan wilderness. I went from being well-informed to intellectually starved. I had less time for books and edifying movies, but at least I had my podcasts—my on-the-go food-for-thought. I couldn’t sit down with a book, but I could — when pushing a buggy to the park, washing dishes, or cooking — consume a few hours of “Fresh Air,” “WTF,” and “Where Should We Begin?” Podcasts were a comfort and my only way to stay connected to the world of ideas. They were a way of communing with friends — the friends that you know but who don’t know you. Podcasts also can alter your worldview. In 2017-2018, the figures of the “intellectual dark web (IDW)” emerged. Suddenly a handful of previously unknown academics — Heather Heying, the Weinstein brothers, Jordan Peterson, etc. — were given huge platforms on podcasts like “Making Sense” with Sam Harris and “The Joe Rogan Experience.” These IDW figures pricked my liberal bubble. I listened in as they bull-fought some of the left’s sacred cows. It helped that most of these figures were “left adjacent,” and a lot of their pushback — against the alleged pervasiveness of the patriarchy, against the idea that all gender differences are socially constructed, against the excesses of critical race theory, and against the intellectual feebleness of “grievance studies” — gave voice to the creeping skepticisms that I'd kept quiet in the back of my mind. According to Meghan Daum in her wonderful essay, “Nuance: A Love Story,” we lived in a time when “[q]uestions that had once been treated as complicated inquiries requiring scrutiny and nuance were increasingly being reduced to moral absolutes, especially as far as liberal types were concerned.” For her, the figures of IDW made her feel “invigorated, even electrified, by their willingness to ask (if not ever totally answer) questions that had lately been deemed too messy somehow to deal with in mainstream public discourse.” Listening to the IDW was not a retreat from my liberalness, but an embrace of it. “Openness to experience,” on the Five-Factor Personality model correlates with politically liberal views, and I felt as open to experience as ever. (I found it bizarre how some avowed liberals on my Facebook page would repeatedly denigrate these figures while steadfastly refusing to sample any of their content.) I wanted to try a little bit of everything, and listening to podcasts was the easiest way to sample a lot of politically diverse content. I tried Ben Shapiro, Tucker Carlson, and Dave Rubin—people politically situated somewhere in between liberals and right-wing monsters, none of whom, I decided after a trial, were careful thinkers or good-faith actors. But open to them, for a moment, I was. Sadly, a lot of the IDW figures, who’d made useful contributions, flew too close to the sun. Jordan Peterson had something along the lines of a near-death nervous breakdown. Bret Weinstein, in each subsequent podcast appearance, began to sound more conspiratorial and more untethered from reality. The IDW bubble prickers created their own bubble, creating their own shows, inviting each other on, and radicalizing themselves with the magic of an echo chamber. Their claims became more and more outrageous (anti-vac conspiracies, delusions of cabals sabotaging their careers, needless scrutiny over the George Floyd murder). But they were merely human, clinging too tightly to their newfound fame, unwilling to let their “moment” pass, and unable to imagine slinking back into irrelevance at their parochial universities. Some of them just kept repeating the same thing over and over (“I hate cancel culture because we’re not allowed to say anything anymore!”) while saying whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. “I got the memo!” I’d think, angrily poking at my phone’s smooth screen to switch to something worthwhile. “Talk about something new for god sake!” The IDW had served its purpose and a lot of their contributions got absorbed into the broader library of podcasts. It’s perhaps due to the IDW that our culture has descended from “peak woke” (maybe 2020?) to the point where we’re at today, when questionable cancellations are less frequent, casual misandry more frowned upon, and dubious claims of racial micro-aggressions less common. I now find myself listening to a lot of podcasts hosted by Gen-X or Millennial women, who I find charmingly level-headed, capable of talking about serious issues with humor, and temperamentally akin to me, such as Meghan Daum’s “The Unspeakable,” Sarah Hepola and Nancy Rommelmann’s “Smoke Em if You Got Em,” or Louise Perry’s “Mother, Maiden, Matriarch” podcast. Ezra Klein’s podcast is something close to a “can’t miss” for me, if largely for the fact that he avoids all the cancel culture chatter, focusing instead on the stuff that truly matters: A.I., clean energy infrastructure, party politics, loneliness, housing, etc… It’s hard to go wrong with an open-minded, free-thinking, expertise-driven, and diverse “general interest” show like Klein’s or the "Art of Manliness" podcast (on which I’ll soon be making an appearance). On a couple of these general interest podcasts, I listened to James Nestor speak about his book Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art, which woke me up to the importance of good breathing. I’d been suffering from throat soreness due to post-nasal drip problems, so I saw an Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor, who put me on an eighteen-month waiting list for a septoplasty (a surgery that involves straightening your septum, which is the bit of cartilage that divides your nostrils). Similarly, after listening to a Huberman Lab podcast on the importance of oral health, I decided it was time to see a dentist after a (yikes) ten-year hiatus. Huberman talked about how there are correlations between gum disease and brain disease, and one of the first things my dentist said was that I have unhealthy gums. I took Huberman’s advice and made improving my oral health a priority. I bought a Waterpik to pressure-wash my mouth, became cautious about allowing residue from acidic foods (oranges, coffee, etc.) to dwell in my mouth for too long, chewed xylitol gum to generate saliva (that has healing properties), and brushed and flossed with more regularity. I signed up for two very rigorous and unpleasant cleanings. Meanwhile, my wife is listening to How Not to Age, which has her sprinkling a lot of mysterious wonder foods into our morning porridges. It’s a testament to the power of podcasting (and audiobooks) that these programs can improve your body as well as your mind. In a period of two weeks, I found myself with a new nose and mouth. (My gums took as little as two weeks to substantially improve, and my nasal breathing is, maybe, 10 percent better, which doesn’t meet my expectations of a full respiratory reset, but, nevertheless, marks an improvement.) I wish I had all the time in the world to keep up with all the worthwhile podcasts out there. I want to be continually exposed to new ideas and I want to stay abreast of what’s going on in politics, culture, and science. I wish I could listen to the eight-part “Fall of the Aztecs” podcast on “The Rest is History” or keep up to date on Democratic politics by regularly listening to “Pod Save America.” But we only have so much time, choices need to be made, and Sophie has to leave a few of her kids behind. Some podcasts have come and gone from my life, like good friends. I seldom listen to “This American Life” anymore, as I find their content very hit (such as “La Donna”) and miss (like most of their read-out-loud personal essays). It was a sad day when I finally “unfollowed” Radiolab, which, about six years ago, strayed from its science roots, promoted overly cheery hosts, and became gratingly woke. (Listen to the three-part “In the No” series to see how far they’d fallen.) “Fresh-Air,” too, once a stalwart in my rotation, is probably next on the chopping block, as their content seems out of date by desperately trying to keep up to date. What is the future of the medium? There may come a day when all this free content won’t be free anymore. (I subscribed to my first podcast last year for like $60.) Will some podcasts get packaged and sold together, kind of like a TV cable app (Disney+)? Will we see podcasts produced as meticulously as the early Radiolabs and S-Town again? Or is the medium meant for long, loosey-goosey, discursive and barely-edited chats? Will technology change the form: will AI create interesting podcasts of its own; will V.R. goggles allow us to better immerse ourselves in the medium; will ear implants make the awkwardness of Bluetooth earbuds moot? I can’t predict anything with confidence, except that podcasts won’t lose their greatest attribute: convenience—the convenience of listening to something from the Alaskan wilderness or while pushing a pram to your town’s park. And… They’ll probably remain a mainstay of my life for a good long while. Some recent favorites Smoke 'em if you got 'em — The ladies let Dan Savage cook. MMM podcast — A debate between Louise Perry and academic Bryan Caplan, who would advise his daughter not to be a feminist Rewatchables — The guys review, at long last, a Kenneth Lonergan movie—Manchester by the Sea Keen On — Interview with Jacob Heilbrunn on conservative America’s 100-year love affair with foreign dictators Art of Manliness - How to be more charismatic Ezra Klein — On how AI can be used today

Movies Crumb (1994, USA) Crumb and his weirdo brothers make this documentary into a sort of Northeastern Gothic. I haven’t seen many of Crumb’s illustrations (though I’ll never forget this one), but I respect him as an artist, largely because he didn't care who he offended or what his critics thought. In the doc, Crumb wonders if there’s any artistic value in the vile. Maybe not all the time, but when someone has the skill and the ability to scope the darkest corners of their psyche, there’s something for all of us to learn. B+ Wild Tales (2014, Argentina) This is for anyone who’s fed up with the nonsense of modern life (cold-blooded bureaucracy, arsehole drivers). Wild Tales is dark, but satisfyingly dark because the characters get to act out all of our most twisted and unmentionable urges. It’s a cross between the "hypothetical scenario" of a Black Mirror episode and the don't-give-a-crap-anymore violence of Falling Down. B Society of the Snow (2023, South American) This is an update on the Alive book/movie from a South American perspective. Just as it’s hard to mess up a pizza, it’s hard to mess up a survival movie. It’s not flashy or challenging, but it checks all the boxes. Watch with a warm blanket and a (veggie-only) pizza. B Return of Martin Guerre (1982, France) Depardieu was excellent as a charming, virile, enigmatic beast, but perhaps the best thing about the film was the set—it looked like the set designers went all-in on building a Medieval French Village. B Paterson (2016, USA) An odd little film, essentially about living artistically. There was nothing overtly surreal, yet the film felt like it took place in a parallel universe. There was nothing overtly sinister, but I kept thinking something terrible was about to happen. Perhaps that was purposeful. It’s a movie about poetry, yet I found myself wondering if the bus was going to explode. A- American Nightmare (2024, USA) This miniseries is slickly paced with some crazy twists. It’s sensational and lurid, and yet the real-life characters were drawn compassionately. I wanted more answers by the end, but it’s better to leave the viewer asking for more than giving too much. B On Body and Soul (2017, Hungary) A touching film about an autistic outcast and a disabled man, who begin to coexist in each other’s animal dreams, as deer. B+ Oppenheimer (2023, USA) Oppenheimer did a fine job capturing the moral sufferings of the bomb creators, but the plot was weighed down by a gigaton of unnecessary and convoluted politics. It seems when our genius directors (i.e., Scorsese & Nolan) reach a certain age or a certain level of prominence, they cease working alongside tough editorial voices—one of whom should have urged Nolan to cut the three-hour running time in half. C Books I am exploring a possible book project, so I find myself not merely down a rabbit hole, but in a many-chambered warren. Such chambers include identity politics, critical race theory, fourth-wave feminism, male malaise… I have read The Right to Sex, What Do Men Want?, For the Love of Men, Woke Racism, The Identity Trap, Cancelling of the American Mind—all with a broad sense of inquiry, ever-vigilant scrutiny, and good-natured amusement. Yascha Mounk's The Identity Trap helps me understand the historical roots of cancel culture / identity politics. Mounk traces it back to Michel Foucault and an African American named Derrick Bell, born in 1930. I also couldn’t put down the Jungian Iron John by Robert Bly, who claims that men ceased having healthy relationships with their fathers and their "father-mothers" (a group of men who guide the boy into adulthood) when the world industrialized. Articles The Atlantic - Jonathan Rauch demands an apology from the U.S. government for its past vilification of LGBTQ+ people. Sign me up. NY Review of Books - A funny review of Werner Herzog’s memoir. Podcasts This month I was featured on the Hunt Quietly Podcast, #103. We talk about my thoughts on Barbie, Grizzly Man, how unfun it would be to be a bear, how men need to talk about their love lives, how I ended up in Scotland, as well as some of my old favorites—trespassing and the right to roam. Who Killed JFK? - I take pity on most conspiracy theorists, but, uh, it certainly looks like the CIA was behind the assassination. And that pisses me off. I’d like to know why there isn’t sustained pressure on the government to declassify 15,000 records (11,000 of which are CIA records). And I’d like to know why the mainstream media isn’t responding more to this amazing podcast and coming up with their own questions. The obvious answer is that the CIA is guarding its reputation (and existence). I agree with host Rob Reiner—America can handle the truth, and the truth would, in the end, heal. Misc I read Chuck Klosterman’s The Nineties, largely about Gen X, and one of my favorite finds was this radio hoax, in which a fake author claims to have written a rock n’ roll book called Rock, Rot, and Rule. Klosterman makes the point that Gen X wasn't just jaded and ironic; they were passionate and sincere, too. When giving a talk in Cleveland, I stopped in at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and I had a surprisingly wonderful time. In the Foster Theater, there’s a 15-minute “Power of Rock” doc produced by Jonathan Demme. Prince’s guitar solo to “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” was unforgettable.

I'm featured on the Hunt Quietly Podcast today--a podcast run by a few forward-thinking hunters who want to reform hunting culture. We talk about, of all things, my thoughts on Barbie the movie, Timothy Treadwell, how unfun it would be to be a bear, how men need to talk about their love lives, how I ended up in Scotland, as well as some of my old favorites--trespassing and the right to roam. It's available on the Hunt Quietly website and probably where you usually download your podcasts.

My book, This Land Is Our Land, is back in print, thanks to the wonders of print-on-demand printing. This is my first book in which I take a break from the memoir genre to write a manifesto. You can call it half-history, half-advocacy. I'm advocating for a radical re-understanding of landownership, one designed to serve the common good. I envision opening up private lands in North America for responsible recreation. You can buy the book on Amazon and other online stores, as a paperback, ebook, and audiobook.

Movies It was a fruitful movie-watching year for me, partly because I had a lot of long flights on United Airlines, which has a surprisingly terrific film selection. Plus, my Cinema Paradiso and MUBI subscriptions always have an enticing offering. The only "A" I gave out this year was to Paul Newman's The Verdict, but Aftersun is the one I'll never forget. Aftersun (2022, Scotland) Red Rocket (2021, USA) The Florida Project (2017, USA) Past Lives (2023, South Korea, USA) Daughters of the Dust (1991, USA) Eastern Promises (2007, USA) Stories We Tell (2012, Canada) The Verdict (1982, USA) Andrey Zvyagintsev's Russian films [Elena (2011), The Return (2003), Leviathan (2014), and Loveless (2017), Russia] The Quiet Girl (2022, Ireland) Paterson (2016, multiple) The Big Chill (1983, USA) Audiobooks I'm not sure if this is a hot-take, but I would hold up Hilary Mantel's Thomas Cromwell trilogy alongside some of the other great and epically-long stories of the last hundred years, whether it's LotR or the Game of Thrones books. There is so much drama, history, and psychological insight packed into those novels. I cannot recommend the audiobook experience more. Ben Miles's voice brings so many (and there are many) characters to life. The Killer Angels (1974, USA) Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall trilogy (2009-2020, UK) TV The Bear (Season 2) Poldark (the 1975 version) Books I read more for research than pleasure this year, so my recommended books list is thin. I returned to a few favorites that, to me, have stood the test of time. LoTR Pride and Prejudice Freedom Christmas Book sale For American readers, I've held a little Xmas sale this past week over my social media accounts. I was delighted to make over 20 sales and disencumber myself of about 50 books. I thought I'd extend the same offer to blog readers. If you want to get a last-minute order in, and for the package to arrive in time, please send me an email asap. I'll be happy to personalize as you like. Walden on Wheels - $15 Trespassing across America - $15 (hardcover $20) This Land Is Our Land - $15 McCandless Mecca - $7 Walden on Wheels (CDs or MP3) - $10 If you buy four, you get $5 off of total. Transactions can be made using Zelle, Venmo, PayPal, or by check. Postage varies per order. A Year in Review - 2023 2023 is the year I turned 40. The age-change is arbitrary, but I think I'll look back on 2023 as a significant year, largely because it was the year I finally got fed up with being a writer/speaker. (I embrace the vocation, but can't bear the unstable and stressful finances.) This all had me contemplating a mid-life career pivot (which hasn't happened but probably will). 2023 is also the year when my "Alone" reality TV show dream died, which mercifully brought me some clarity of mission. My daughter is four and our house ("shabby abbey") grows less shabby by the year. I put some more roots into Scottish soil, literally and figuratively. My town has built a new train station. My softball team improved and ball hockey team regressed. My health has been without flaw except for poor nasal breathing. (I breathlessly await my appointment for an NHS-sponsored septoplasty.) I finished a draft of my memoir Out of the Wild, which contains some of the funniest and most insightful lines I've written. It's the tonal sequel to Walden on Wheels, even if OotW's theme is more about relationships than career & finance. This was my third year of work on it, so it was mostly a labor of creative editing, which is the best sort of literary labor. It hasn't yet been shopped to publishers, so no news there. And even though I sort of want out of the literary life, at the last minute I got an idea for a polemical book that would be an easy sell. I get a handful of book ideas every year. It isn't clear to me if what I have is a "real thing" or just a passing whim. 2023 is the year I told the world. "You won. I need a real job." Yet, with a completed draft and a new idea, it remains to be seen if 2024 is the year I put this resolution into action.

Films Past Lives (2023, US & South Korea) - Just go ahead and give this the Oscar for Best Picture. It’s a beautiful movie about romantic love—the secondary loves who fit into our lives and the soulmates who don't. A- Red Rocket (2021), The Florida Project (2017), Tangerine (2015) — All of these Sean Baker movies are outstanding. Baker belongs in a class with Chloé Zhao (The Rider, Nomadland). They each find stories to tell in the lands in between the over-represented cities of NYC and LA. Both Baker and Zhao often employ non-actors, who are so good they make you wonder if we ever needed professional actors in the first place. Baker’s movies are set in the dingy fringes of America, where people live beneath the shadow of industry, are assaulted by (or assault themselves with) noise, and who malnourish themselves to death with cigarettes and donuts. Their downtrodden towns might be grimy, but a few splashes of pastel joy speak to an indomitable American hope and an up-against-the-odds fierceness of spirit. A- Killers of the Flower Moon (2023) - This movie was infuriatingly dull and long (3.5 hours!), but let me say nice things about it first. It did an admirable job documenting the step-by-step crimes committed by small-town mobsters against the Osage Nation. The movie seems determined to get us to remember a tragedy that was never properly remembered. I only wish this movie felt more like a story than a docudrama, with its tedious accounting of crimes committed by an endlessly long cast of characters, whose motivations are never explored and backstories never developed. The acting is great, but there’s hardly a likeable character or a trade of interesting dialogue in the film. Scorsese neglects to capture something meaningful, sublime, or Shakespearean—something story-ish. Instead, he seems obsessed with the smallest of details behind every crime. Spielberg’s Schindler’s List is an interesting comparison. Schindler’s is also about evil, but Spielberg managed to make something beautiful with content that doesn’t get any darker. Spielberg took some creative risks, found poetic beauty in a story of genocide, and allowed himself a Shakespearean soliloquy or two. Scorsese, in fastidiously keeping things as true to life as possible, may have counterproductively made his movie and the memory of the Osage murders forgettable. C- The Killer (2023) - It’s interesting how some of our great directors (Scorsese, Killers of the Flower Moon and Ridley Scott, Napoleon) are stumblingly taking on sweeping epics in the final stages of their career, while David Fincher has chosen to tell a much sleeker and specific story—about an assassin seeking revenge. I strain to figure out if this movie is trying to say anything or just be a more cerebral John Wick. To be generous, it’s a critique of the ascetic self-mastery — as well as the whole “quantified self” trend — which can shield us from the feelings that get in the way of accomplishing a hard task. That’s all well and good, but I just wasn’t buying it: There was no way Michael Fassbender’s robotic contours contained enough of a beating heart for him to keep a sweetheart in Central America. C+ Audiobooks The Killer Angels (1974) by Michael Shaara - This is historical fiction, from which the film Gettysburg was adapted. The author’s trick of telling each chapter from a different character’s point of view is effective, especially in capturing the Confederate and Union psyche. A- A Thousand Trails Home: Living with Caribou (2021) by Seth Kantner - A wonderful mini-memoir about a man’s lifelong (and ever-changing) relationship with caribou. Kantner’s relationship must evolve alongside technological innovation in weaponry and snow travel, as well as state hunting politics and an Alaska now baking under the heat of climate change. It wrestles with the question, “How should we be with nature in the 21st Century?” B+ Books Encounters: Experiences with Non-Human Intelligences (2023) by D.H. Pasulka — I enjoyed the first 3/4ths of this book, in which the author introduces a whole bunch of interesting concepts (such as how a growing body of UFO sightings and other inexplicable encounters are manufacturing a new and interesting spirituality). But I wish the content was curated a bit more vigorously. I can take in stories about UFOs better (with the many documented sightings legitimized by stodgy institutions like the Pentagon and NY Times) than the unsubstantiated freaky bedroom encounters with St. Michael.