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My acquisition of this this book (second-hand, of course) was largely influenced by the recommendations published on the back cover: “One of the most delightful books of any kind I have read all year” (Bill Bryson) and, “…a lively pen and detached, quizzical and revealing eye … I enjoyed every word.”
Therein lay my error. All too soon I discovered that the transplant bears no comparison to the wonderful “The 3,000 Mile Garden” by Leslie Land and Roger Phillips.
Indeed, by the time I had slogged through to the end of “The Transplanted Gardener”, my firmly set view was that Mr Elliott must surely have written his text from start to finish whilst comfortably seated, in the London Library (a renowned scholarly subscription library, see http://www.londonlibrary.co.uk/); never straying for so much as a brief stroll in a London Park. Each chapter of this book addresses a different aspect of gardening and the plant world; a broad swathe indeed, from the use of metal detectors when judging giant vegetables, through engineered water gardens, to the Himalayan Blue Poppy, and much else. Select and research a topic, write, insert some amusing anecdote, observation or fact; and there’s another chapter finished, done and dusted.
The only line which genuinely made me smile came right at the start: “There may be some truth in the old gag that you can tell when its summer in England because the rain is warm.” (p.3). Wrong, actually; as everyone who enjoyably partied (as very many of us did) to celebrate The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, will remember!
By page 79, Mr Elliot was assuring me that one mole is capable of relocating 10lb of soil (avoirdupois betraying his targeting an older readership) in twenty minutes; by comparison (based on the bodyweights of mole and of man) to one lone coalminer lifting 12 tons (coal or soil?) in an hour. I wonder where, as late as 1996, he actually found a shovel-using British coalminer; and how and where he was able to observe and measure that performing mole? Unhelpfully he gives no references; not even to the “Guinness Book of Records”. Was it an American mole and a Pennsylvanian miner?
Elliot discusses compost. Ah ha; I thought. How very English! But, alerted by a sentence beginning, “If I persist, dutifully composting leaves, grass clippings, … decayed lettuces, eggshells … sooner or later the clay will become black and friable…”(p106), I realised that here this armchair author had utterly betrayed himself. Here is a man who has clearly never so much as watched an episode of the long running BBC TV “Gardeners’ World” because he has neither seen, heard, or read Geoff Hamilton, Alan Tichmarsh, Monty Don and others regularly remind viewers not to compost eggshells (unless well crushed), and to compost leaves separately. Well-rotted aged leaf mould is highly regarded as a valuable prize in its own right.
By page 157 I was seriously questioning why I had persisted with this book. “Stourhead, in Devon” advertised cringing deficiency. Stourhead, justly famed for its magnificent landscapes, is geographically located in Wiltshire; buffered from Devon by the hefty presence of both Dorset and Somerset. What on earth was this author, described (on the inside back dustcover) as “having been a magazine editor, and a senior editor for the American publisher Alfred. A. Knopf Ltd.” trying to achieve? At Knopf, who said ‘goodbye’ to who?
In conclusion, read this book if you enjoy an abnormal compulsion to analyse how promising material could be considerably better written-up. Or apply yourself to more rewarding reading; only being sure to pick up anything of this era published by Viking Penguin with caution.
I’m tempted to compost this copy. At least that would benefit the foxgloves!
I loved this book. I bought my copy for $1 at the Denmark public library book sale, on the strength of the cover blurb from Bill Bryson: "One of the most delightful books of any kind I have read all year". I like Bill Bryson a lot, so I figured I was onto a winner. Also, I like gardening myself, so am always happy to hear about other people's garden stories.
The book is a collection of essays, arranged under three sections: Fresh Ground (about the author's own garden), Gardeners and Other Obsessives (what it says on the packet, includes Charles Darwin and a cast (ha ha) of thousands of earthworms), and Lost Gardens (about various historical aspects of gardening). It's lovely, light-hearted, interesting and informative, and very reminiscent of Bill Bryson's style.
And I've just discovered he's written a whole lot of other stuff about gardening... *big eyes*
"From the question of why England is so wet -- or, in the view of a dripping American, seems to be -- to an account of the great Charles Darwin's favorite obsession (it was earthworms), The Transplanted Gardener contains a sparkling set of essays exploring the history, practice, and eccentricities of gardening in 'the world's greatest potting shed.' England." ~~back cover
Much to my surprise, I find that I didn't know much about English gardens and English gardening history. I know more now that I've read this book.
Non-ficture collection of essays orginally published in Horticulture magazine. They're great if you like reading about gardening and history and the differences between the US and Great Britain.
Let's see, some of the highlights include an examination of the ways to combat moles (stink bombs are popular in the UK), formal vs. 'natural' garden plans, garden theft, and how to figure out the age of a hedge.