My favorite books are the ones written from a totally unique perspective. For me, there is no greater joy than seeing the world through the eyes of someone I’ve never even met. What matters little to me matters lots to them. What I don’t see, they stared at their entire life. What I hate, they love.

The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey is one of those books. It’s fifty years old, but its rage makes it feel like it was written yesterday. Edward Abbey is a self-described anarchist. A warrior against the industrial world. And the way he shares his views is downright infectious.

Eco Warriors in Southern Utah

The Monkey Wrench Gang tells the story of four people who don’t fit into society. Hayduke is a Vietnam veteran with a hatred for authority. Seldon Seen Smith is a polygamist whose hometown was drowned by the creation of Lake Powell. Doc Sarvis is a healer and a skilled billboard toppler. Lastly, Bonnie Abbzug is a dancer from the Bronx. When these four anti-establishment individuals discover their shared worldview, they set to work dismantling the machines and symbols of industry all over Southern Utah.

Sabotaging freeway constructions, shoving tractors off cliffs, even destroying a bridge or two are well within this group’s capability. Every act is described in thorough detail. The book follows the group as they move from job to job, each act of rebellion more ambitious than the last. We see the quiet moments as they probe each other’s philosophies, the loud moments when their work inevitably runs afoul of law enforcement, and the scary moments when life and death are in the balance.

The writing has a country edge to it. The dialog can swing blunt and vulgar, and some of the behaviors of the characters can be downright classless. But at the same time, it’s authentic. These aren’t perfect people, they have vices and flaws and pasts that torment them. When a helicopter comes flying over and Hayduke warns the team not to look up, it’s not because he studied helicopters in a book, it’s because he had to hide from them in the war.

There are so many stories these days about people with perfect lives and simple pasts. They use clean language and avoid offensive action. One mistake often defines who they are. We want to be able to sympathize with our characters. They need to appeal broadly.

These characters aren’t like that. They’re flawed, they’re often broken, and when they engage with the world, it’s with an edge sharpened by years of living outside of civilized society.

Rage and Anarchy

Edward Abbey’s vision of the world is seeped in rage. The characters aren’t mad at a single broken part of a mostly working system, but at a humanity that can’t seem to stop themselves. When Hayduke and Doc look out at a new bridge across the Utah Desert, they don’t see a great new way to travel, they see modern industry bulldozing over what used to belong to all of us.

And it’s not high-minded either. When Bonnie sees a bridge that brings more traffic to a certain canyon, she’s pissed her canyon is being taken away. When “Seldom Seen” Smith looks at Lake Powell, he sees the town he used to live in and the canyons and secrets he used to know buried by a new recreational fishing area.

The world they remembered was taken from them.

It’s my favorite aspect of this book. I’m pretty young, by the time I was born Utah was full-speed on industrialization. Two years ago, the view from my home was a big flat desert. Now it’s three layers of houses. My only memory of Utah is now. This book captures the state when it was untamed.

A lot of books today like to talk about anger. Characters go on big diatribes about ‘getting back what was taken’. In most cases, I find that talk empty. Not here. When Hayduke sees a tractor, gets out his car, and drives it into a ravine just to stall industrialization for a day or two, I feel that in my soul.

The Right Book A Half Century Later

Don’t read this book for a great ending, read it for the adventure, read it to see the world through an anarchist’s eyes, read it to feel a rage that’s not acceptable in polite society. We live in such a censored age, a lot of the words I want to use to describe this book and the actions taken in it have to be left out of the review.

I picked this book up because three of the most interesting people I had ever met all recommended it. Now I understand why. In a lot of ways, it feels like the perfect timing. Utah sits at the center of a new war against data centers. The rage I felt in Hayduke’s heart as he watched the government lay down miles and miles of freeway is the same rage that pulses in my own as I read about the new mega-structures they want to build in Box Elder. It’s the pain of seeing the world we grew up in ripped away and turned into something we don’t understand.

The Monkey Wrench Gang taps into emotions most books can’t reach. It’s fifty years old, but it feels like it was written yesterday.