After an epic struggle with the first 150 pages of Walden, I've made it safely to Thoreau's bean field. I'm not entirely sure what's happened so far, but Thoreau seems to still be living by a pond. Technically, I'm not quite halfway through the book, but I'm close enough to mark the occasion. He's finally stopped talking about the price of solitude and the amount of space people need between them, and has turned his attention to beans. Things are looking up.

At one point last week it looked as if I would do nothing else with my life but battle with this book. But I'm pleased to report that the battle continues, and that I am not yet dead on the battlefield.