I discovered Thoreau in 9th grade and responded much as the author describes. I loved the clarity, the independence, the disdain for the crowd, the longing for

I discovered Thoreau in 9th grade and responded much as the author describes. I loved the clarity, the independence, the disdain for the crowd, the longing for nature, and the commitment to a moral, self-examined life. I think his message only continues to grow in importance. And yet I don't think the author has really proved his point. Having a sense of humor doesn't make Thoreau any less painfully earnest. Martin Luther liked bawdy jokes too, and that in no way lessened his seriousness. If anything, joking about peeing on the bushes seems to confirm Thoreau's boorishness. I still feel a kind of adolescent immaturity in him: a lack of self-doubt, and a preponderance of self-importance. It is not easy to find a good balance of gravity and levity. Those concepts are too clumsy, I think, because you need both---in the right measures, at the right times, and towards the right things. And I think in general the world could use more gravity towards the things Thoreau loved. And on the other hand the world could also use more self-doubt, more understanding toward your neighbor's weakness, more charity, but that is hard to find in Thoreau. This article is just the introduction to a book, so perhaps later the author better proves his point, although it sounds like a hard thing to do, because the argument looks like a non sequitor. Did Jesus' jokes suggest he didn't mean it? . . . By the way, I do like the author's approach in looking for humor where we have been taught not to expect it. That is a great way to ready Moby Dick, I think: things like sharing a bed with a savage, but also the long digressions about rigging or scrimshaw or whatever. It helps to feel some indulgence toward the author, and trust that he is leading us on a detour to show us something "cool", but also something personal, like a private joke. A good friend once suggested that the Book of Jonah is an early specimen of Jewish humor, and I think he was on to something. What if its genre is joke? (It could still be no less divine Scripture for that.) That last bit sure sounds to me like a punchline: "And should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are more than sixscore thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left; and also much cattle?"