THREAD. I’ve been thinking about this all day. What do we actually *mean* when we say ‘outdoor pursuits’? Because this has (of course) wider implications than just which books gets shelved where in @Waterstones. https://twitter.com/emilychappell/status/1297820156987678722

The books in Antonia’s original photo tell us that outdoor pursuits are something quite specific, involving climbing something very high (usually Everest), circumnavigating the globe, or attempting to reach one of its poles.

Most of the stories these books tell are about survival (or in some cases non-survival: death, as they call it), in a situation the protagonist chose, or was inspired to put himself in.

I refer to this genre as ‘men in peril’. And before you think I’m criticising - I absolutely love these stories. Can’t get enough of them. I’m currently reading one of the books in the picture. I don’t want to replace them. But I’d like to lengthen the shelf a bit. Well, a lot.

There are plenty of books where women are the ones climbing mountains, visiting poles, & making their way around the world. Feel free to list your favourites. I’m sure @Waterstones will be grateful. But I think we should also interrogate what ’outdoor pursuits’ actually ARE.

I’m going to offer you three examples.

1. Turning, by Jessica J. Lee. The author spends a year swimming in the lakes around Berlin. This is not a story of survival or athletic achievement, and to me it didn’t feel linear, or even circular (although it follows the seasons of the year).

Instead the sense I had, while reading Lee’s intricately beautiful prose, was of being suspended in bright, clear water, rippling gently to and fro as its texture and temperature changed around me. Is serenely floating in lakes an Outdoor Pursuit?

2. Between Stone and Sky, by Whitney Brown. The author veers away from a promising academic career to become a drystone waller in Mid Wales.

She spends a lot of time moving stones around in the Welsh hills and getting rained on, but she’s simultaneously doing prosaic things like gaining professional qualifications and earning a living. Can your job be an Outdoor Pursuit?

3. Out of the Woods, by Luke Turner. (Disclaimer, I’ve not yet read this one.) The author explores what some will consider the controversial practice of men seeking furtive sexual encounters with each other in parks, commons and woodland.

Is cruising an outdoor pursuit? You may laugh, but when I think about it, it’s as morally disputed as mountaineering, and in some times and places, almost as dangerous. And it invites a similar prurience.

The point I’m trying to get to is - do we really want to stick with this arbitrary definition that Outdoor Pursuits are activities carried out by choice (or inspiration) whilst wearing a beard and a North Face jacket? Must they involve danger to life and limb?

I won’t deny that there’s an appeal to these books. I suspect @Waterstones’ selection is heavily based around what’s known to sell well. So I’m not just arguing (as I always do) that we need to diversify our canon.

I think we need to ask ourselves (I certainly do) just WHY we’re so into these endless tales of men in peril. I also think we’re doing ourselves a disservice by not seeking out different stories, different ways of seeing and being.

For me the Everest books are like airport thrillers. Gripping, but also undemanding and reassuringly predictable. Great to read when you’re on holiday, or in bed with a cold.

But we also need the other sort. The books that make you stop halfway through a paragraph and exclaim “yes! that’s exactly it, and I never thought to put it that way”. They take us into new worlds, and give us new ways of seeing our own. (ENDS.)