Naked at Lunch: Adventures of a Reluctant Nudist
© 2015 Mark Haskell Smith
288 pages

Beware all enterprises which require new clothes, Henry David Thoreau opined. Say what you will about naturism, or nudism – it’s the only hobby I can think of that doesn’t require buying anything, and especially not new clothes. Naked at Lunch is author Mark Haskell’s exploration of nudist society in the United States and Europe, beginning with a history thereof before he begins trying it for himself, from isolated nudist camps to whole communities on the Iberian peninsula where people are free to bare all. I’m personally fascinated by various cultures’ attitudes to clothing, so I found this most interesting despite the author having an obnoxious attitude towards anyone who is opposed to public nudity.  

Smith assures us from the beginning that he’s not a real nudist, thank you. Sure, he sleeps au natural and, in warm months, is happy to wander about the house without any clothing – but that’s just being naked. Nudism is, Smith and those he interviews here, best understood as a social activity: it’s being naked around other people in a nonsexual way, doing ordinary things like swimming, watching shows, and yoga. When Smith decides to take his first foray into the world of naturism, it’s a nerve-wracking experience. He doesn’t help things by covering himself with so much sunscreen that when he ventures out near the pool, he positively glows, radiating like a prophet of old, sent forth to preach the gospel that clothes are a lie. Soon, however, he’s wandering around a Spanish town surrounded by naked people, and even hiking in the buff (albiet with shoes). He limits himself to the western world in both his past research and his present excursions, and reveals that nudist movements began in the west almost as a reaction to the rise of industrialism and consumerism: a rebellion of the natural against the artificial, and wedded to other health movements of the time, especially in Germany – where naturism was so popular that even Hitler’s government created a sanctioned organization, albiet one that restricted nudism to rural areas, and excluded communists and Jews. A commonality in nudist movements past and present is that the organizations always emphasize their nonsexual nature, and Smith discovers that when he spends time around naked people, the nakedness loses its sexual charge. 

While I was aware of nude beaches and resorts, I had no idea how popular they were, especially in Europe, and enjoyed experiencing them vicariously through Smith – most of the time. I noticed that he transformed from being someone profoundly uncomfortable being naked in front of others into someone who mocked others for that discomfort later in the book — as he does when his naked hiking group encounters a group of minors associated with a religious school hiking in the wilderness, and their teacher hurriedly has them look away, and can’t even stir himself to be offended when he sees a couple engaged in intercourse on a balcony while touring a city with a nude quarter. (When he mentions this to a nudist group, they scowl and mutter in French that that isn’t nudism.) The author doesn’t bother digging into arguments for or against public nudity: he simply proclaims that people’s bodies are their own, man, and like you can’t just tell someone else they have to wear clothes, because that’s just not cool, dude. Smith comes off as increasingly lazy and obnoxious as the book progresses.  

I enjoyed this book well enough, but disliked the author increasingly more as it went on, despite being sympathetic to the subject of the book: I’m rather enamored of the human form and don’t find nudity offensive or shameful in itself, but dislike those who abuse it to be provocative or offensive — as Smith sometimes encounters here, and dismisses with a “Boys will be boys” attitude.