This is a story of an adventure in education, pursued not under the best of conditions. The idea of education has been so tied to school, universities, and professors that many assume there is no other way, but education is available to anyone within reach of a library, a post office, or even a newsstand.

We in this day (twenty-first century) and place (the US, other industrialized countries) are so very rich. I have a library of thousands of books in my home. Mr. L’Amour, during his hobo days, bought cheap paperbacks and borrowed whatever was available from his fellows or from his workplace or the library. Nevertheless, he educated himself because he hadn’t lost the curiosity and the thirst for knowledge that is built into every child. He did it mostly without schools or teachers. He read and he lived. I really wonder sometimes whether encouraging my children to go to college is such a good idea.

Carmon and several others at Buried Treasure Blog have been discussing whether or not it should be a default decision for young women to go to college. I am beginning to wonder whether most young men and young women wouldn’t receive a better education from working, reading, and living instead of spending four years in the artificial and very expensive environment of the university. I make this statement with one daughter in college now and a son who’s planning to attend college in the fall. It seems to me that if an education is the goal, Mr. L’Amour is right: anyone in our society who pursues an education can easily get one—and continue getting it for the remainder of his life.

On the other hand, if it’s credentials you want . . .

Daniel Boorstin, former Librarian of Congress, wrote the introduction to Education of a Wandering Man, and I do suggest starting with the introduction. I don’t always. I like introductions that introduce; I don’t much care for being told what I’m supposed to think about a book or an author before I read the book.

Boorstin was a close friend of L’Amour. So he’s able to tell us something about the man before we read what L’Amour himself is willing and ready to reveal. For example, there’s this little nugget from the introduction:

“For the bookshelves that Louis designed were much like the man himself. Each tall row of shelves made a kind of book-covered door that could be swung open to reveal another sixteen foot set of book-filled shelves fixed to the wall behind. Louis was a modest man, slow to reveal what he really knew.”

Doesn’t that sound like a beautiful plan for a library? I’m always looking for a way to shelve more books in less space. Stacking the books on the floor in leaning towers probably says something about my character–or my finances–and I think it’s fascinating that Boorstin saw a reflection of Louis L’Amour’s personality in the design of his bookshelves.

In the book, L’Amour does come across as a modest man with a rather Biblical view of himself: the Bible cautions us, “For through the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think; but to think so as to have sound judgment. (Romans 12:3 NASB) L’Amour is neither pretentious nor falsely humble. He’s had enough experience of life and people and books to exhibit sound judgment concerning all three. And he does slowly reveal some of what he knew in Education of a Wandering Man.

I just finished reading this memoir of the prolific Western writer a few days ago, and yesterday I went back through and wrote down several of the passages that impressed me in this eminently quotable book. I would have been unlikely to pick up L’Amour’s memoir on my own; I’m not really a fan of westerns. So I’m really happy that I took Madame Mental Multivitamin’s advice to read it (she gives good book advice), and I’m envious of whoever it was that snagged a copy at a book sale recently. Wanna sell?

I’ve about decided that quotations from L’Amour’s memoir about his unconventional education will form the subject of several posts on Semicolon for the next week or so. There’s that much good stuff in there. I’ve heard of Louis L’Amour, of course, but I’ve never read any of his 80+ novels, mostly westerns, nor have I read any of his short stories that I can remember. Education of a Wandering Man tells the stories of L’Amour’s life from the time he left high school in tenth grade in order to go to work (The Great Depression), through his travels throughout the US and around the world, until he settled down to become an book-reading armchair adventurer, which he notes is much more comfortable than actually traveling. “I believe adventure is nothing but a romantic name for trouble, says Mr. L’Amour. I am somewhat comforted by this perspective on my sedentary life.

The book wanders back and forth from one place to the next, from one time to the next. The plan is clearly chronological, but the author doesn’t restrict himself to a strictly chronological account of the stories of his life. The quotations I copied into my notebook are mostly didactic, philosophical observations, delightful nuggets of wisdom. However, Louis L’Amour calls himself a storyteller, and the bulk of this memoir is made up of stories, the stories that L’Amour lived and the stories he collected. For those, you’ll need to read the book.

I’ll be sharing some of the philosophical nuggets with you for the rest of the week. L’Amour was an auto-didact and a homeschooler and an unschooler before any of those terms were popular. He has an exciting outlook on life in general and on education, specifically. I think we’re going to enjoy exploring the education of this wandering man together.