Summary: Man builds cabin in the woods, observes Nature, philosophises a bit. After two years, two months and two days, he leaves. I suppose I've felt for a while that I 'should' read Thoreau's work, even though anything that carries the label 'masterpiece' is likely to be a disappointment. And so it proved. There is much worthy thought here, but I had to grind my way through it. I like nature as much as the next man (unless the next man is a nudist), but one's concentration begins to pale at the umpteenth description of soil, leaves, or the sound of the loon. Most of the transcendent sections I found to be in either the chapter entitled 'The Pond in Winter' or the 'Conclusion' - so, if you're of a cynical persuasion (or short of time), you might just want to dip your nose in there.