This is the first definitive account of Fruitlands, one of history’s most unsuccessful—but most significant—utopian experiments. It was established in Massachusetts in 1843 by Bronson Alcott (whose ten-year-old daughter Louisa May, future author of Little Women, was among the members) and an Englishman called Charles Lane, under the watchful gaze of Emerson, Thoreau, and other New England intellectuals.
Alcott and Lane developed their own version of the doctrine known as Transcendentalism, hoping to transform society and redeem the environment through a strict regime of veganism and celibacy. But physical suffering and emotional conflict—particularly between Lane and Alcott’s wife, Abigail—made the community unsustainable.
Drawing on the letters and diaries of those involved, Richard Francis explores the relationship between the complex philosophical beliefs held by Alcott, Lane, and their fellow idealists and their day-to-day lives. The result is a vivid and often very funny narrative of their travails, demonstrating the dilemmas and conflicts inherent to any utopian experiment and shedding light on a fascinating period of American history.
The idea for writing TEAM came after the 9/11 attacks when search and rescue dogs were used to find victims and possible survivors in the rubble. Why not have a dog help find the hostages and rescue them with his handler. On hikes and walks I would carry a note book and write down ideas for the story. And of course my inspiration and co-worker LT. has been to all my booksignings and also signs the book.
So before I start on my review of the actual contents and themes of Richard Francis’ Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia, I will say that I have found the Kindle edition rather annoyingly reader unfriendly with regard to how the footnotes and bibliography are presented, and that if you are in fact interested in obtaining and reading a copy of Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia to strongly consider either the hard or the paperback editions (especially since the Kindle edition of is also quite pricy, and I for one am most definitely getting very much sick and tired of academically oriented books often presenting expensive Kindle versions that in particular make supplemental research or flipping back and forth difficult and sometimes even nigh impossible).
And to be honest, the for my personal intellectual reading behaviour much too user unfriendly rendering of Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia into an e-book format with regard to notes and the like (and as already pointed out above) is also the main reason why I ended up reading only Richard Francis’ introduction and his conclusion for Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia thoroughly and was not taking the time to peruse the remainder of Francis’ presented text with the proverbially fine toothed comb (since yes, I was getting more than a bit sick and tired of clicking on page numbers in the index or in the footnotes, being transported to often slightly to sometimes even significantly wrong areas of the book and then needing to find my reading place again, which yes, really did massively try my reading patience and enough so to consider just very quickly and cursively skimming through the main textual body of Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia).
But furthermore, my detailed perusal of only Richard Francis’ introduction (and conclusion) has most definitely also demonstrated to me that reading the main narrative of Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia in detail would in fact, would actually not likely make me consider Richard Francis’ analysis of Bronson Alcott’s and Charles Lane’s failed Fruitlands experiment academically sound and enjoyable, that in particular after the introduction, I already knew without a doubt that I would not have to plow through Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia with attention to detail to know that I would find Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia supremely problematic at best. For that Richard Francis clearly and obviously textually and philosophically considers with his opening pages, with his opening words Fruitlands an unsuccessful but still seemingly inherently positive and idealistic utopia just does not at all ring true for me if I am to consider how dictatorial and in fact dystopian both Bronson Alcott and even more so Charles Lane ALWAYS were. And yes indeed, it really does massively and infuriatingly grate on me when the author, when Richard Francis seemingly claims that Charles Lane and Bronson Alcott supposedly believed in women’s rights and gender equality, when on the farm, when at Fruitlands, most work was supposed to be done by the women (and children) and that every complaint from Abigail Alcott regarding the limited starvation diet and requests for a bit of help and respect were not only ignored by her husband but were often deliberately used by Charles Lane to verbally attack and to claim that women were not only lower than men but as such also naturally responsible for housework etc. and with no criticism allowed and tolerated either, and not to mention that the type of diet being espoused by Charles Lane and Bronson Alcott at Fruitlands was not, in my opinion, and as claimed and lauded by Richard Francis in his introduction to Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia 19th century idealistic and forward thinking veganism, but rather very unhealthy and hugely deficient fruitarianism (with not enough nutrients, and in particular so considering that the Alcotts’ four daughters were young and still in the process of growing).
And thus, only a two star rating for Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia, and while I might in the future consider trying again with either a hardcover or a paperback, I am certainly not in any hurry, since I seriously do doubt that even thoroughly and in detail reading Fruitlands: The Alcott Family and Their Search for Utopia will make me consider more than two stars for Richard Francis’s printed words, as it really does make me totally and utterly livid how much positiveness towards both Bronson Alcott and Charles Lane this book seems to contain.
This is a pretty cozy book. It's a history of the Fruitlands, a utopian community that tried to establish itself in Harvard, Massachusetts in the 1840s. It was started by Bronson Alcott, the father of Louisa May Alcott, who grew up to write Little Women.
I think it’s so fascinating how Bronson was such a radical but how he was kind of a mess of a human being himself. Okay, that’s a little harsh, but I just love seeing the relationship dynamics between him and his wife as they struggle to understand why he’s against the principle of working, but not against the principle of asking other people for their money. It keeps cracking me up! He’s pretty wacky, and having visited Fruitlands before, it’s fun to imagine all these radicals running around trying to recreate Eden.
You can visit the museum, which is stunningly beautiful and has some lovely nature trails. It’s fun to curl up with a book about the region… It’s making me realize how much I love local interest books.
I should state at the outset that I am no admirer of Bronson Alcott - a narcissistically inflated self if such a one ever existed. I would recommend to the editors of the next edition of the DSM that they insert his photo into whatever section describes personality disorders of this kind. And as far as I can tell, Alcott amounted to little more than a sidekick/sideshow of transcendentalism - that featured Alcott as his very own barker.
Francis' book presents no information or insight that would move me to change my perspective. It does, however, introduce another figure, for me shadowy at best - until now, Charles Lane, the English transcendentalist and follower of James Pierrepont Greaves - the founder and magus. All muddleheaded - beyond all toleration.
And of course, Francis has collated as much information as any observer - and most readers - would wish - even more, I would venture - and presented it all in a neat and tidy account.
The failure of the Fruitlands experiment - altogether obvious from the outset. The author inserts that theme into his narrative by quoting quite pointed passages in Emerson's journal. And I find myself understanding - and then agreeing with - Emerson on this subject much more frequently and decidedly than I would prefer.
What I don't understand - to my satisfaction, is how Francis contrived to produce such a boring account. Why did he eliminate from his narrative every trace of drama in the story of Fruitlands and its inmates? He describes sources of conflict, the "fault lines" as he calls them, present at the very beginning - but does absolutely nothing with them. For example, Frances posits "Alcott's despotism" (p. 202, 234); "Alcott's authoritarianism" (p. 212), Alcott as "oppressively authoritarian" (p. 237), but he presents not a single incident in which Alcott exhibits any such behavior. Francis notes repeatedly that Charles Lane and Abigail Alcott were permanent adversaries - a conflict that grew from Lane's rejection of "biological family life" in a cooperative such as Fruitlands as opposed to "consociate family life" that abolished the claims of parent-child relationships altogether. Francis mentions that conference during which the principals decided to abandon their experiment. "It was a moment of truth. ... The tension and suspicion that had been undermining Fruitlands for so long came to a head at this moment: Abigail Alcott made her wishes clear." (p. 244) Then nothing - not another word on the matter - as if we had all participated in the encounter and needed only subtle reminders that it had occurred at all. And on and on.
Perhaps his reticence derives from the absence of sworn depositions, or transcripts of sworn testimony in subsequent civil actions - that never occurred. Perhaps he is reluctant to present as fact entirely plausible events that connect to a preponderance of evidence but that he cannot fix beyond all reasonable doubt. It may be that the evidentiary standard he adopted (suitable in criminal proceedings, I suspect) place him in some safe, unassailable spot in the world he inhabits.
I will admit that his work conveys information new to me here and there, that I meet interesting individuals whom I had not encountered heretofore, etc., etc., but in my world - such a reluctant, tentative and sheepish book is nearly as annoying, tiresome and ultimately laughable as its principle characters most decidedly had been.
Covers the period in the 1840s when Bronson Alcott and his friend Charles Lane enacted their plan to establish a Utopian community on a farm in Massachusetts. I’ve read a few biographies of Louisa May Alcott so I had basic knowledge about Fruitlands’ place in her unconventional childhood. I hoped the focus of this book would be the perspective of Abba May Alcott and her daughters. However, that wasn’t realistic given that the two men were the dominant figures in the short existence of the ill-fated commune. Their acquaintances and supporters included well-known men such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Henry David Thoreau.
Some of the key tenets of the community were abstinence and veganism, and the intent was to become self-sustaining by producing their own food. But Alcott and Lane’s recruiting trips, which tended to coincide with the need for arduous farming chores, resulted in a less than optimal harvest (of both crops and new commune members).
The book draws from journals and letters written by the cast of characters. There are tantalizing gems here and there, such as Mrs. Alcott’s rare hint of bitterness in a diary entry: “Wife, children, and friends are less to him [Alcott] than the great idea he is seeking to realize.” Best of all is the pithy appraisal of Alcott and Lane by a female acquaintance, who was unsuccessfully recruited to join, “… these insane, well-meaning egoists.”
And because I can’t resist the urge to try out the new Goodreads spoiler tag, here’s how it all worked out:
This is a really well researched book about Fruitlands and the context surrounding. The author will now and again slip into this lovely playful tone which does lighten the dense research and commentary.
About the story itself..
I couldn't help but find Bronson Alcott's faux-utopian transcendentalist attempt to relive the garden of Eden via. raw fruit and potatoes and land-paid-for-by-his-wealthier-friends slight;y insufferable (if not, tbf, darkly hilarious) to read and stick with at times.
And I was of course mostly interested in the spaces and interior lives the women and children inhabited amidst the grand visions of the men they moved around with - is there a book out there that looks at this specifically ?
A good and useful read if you are in the utopian experiment research rabbit-hole, or have a specific interest in the background of Fruitlands.
The author looks at the failure of Fruitlands from the perspective, and largely through the writing, of Charles Lane. So far, so good, and a valuable effort. However, his view of Abigail Alcott as responsible for the failure of this experiment, as well as the author of the earlier rift with Elizabeth Peabody, supported of course by the fecklessness and authoritarianism of Bronson, is unnecessarily harsh on Abigail and does not take enough into account the physical hardship of one woman running a mid-18th century household of 11 people all wearing linen clothing, sleeping on linen sheets, using linen towels for their twice-a-day cold baths. The washing alone must have been a full time job! Lane complains about his hands being chapped from the cold - wonder what Abigail's were like.
I should be clear that the 5-star rating is only for people who are interested in this topic (Fruitlands, Bronson Alcott, Transcendentalism, utopian communities in the early 1800's). I am moderately interested in this topic, and enjoyed both the information that was presented and the writing style. The author, Richard Francis, evidently has written about other utopian communities and he brings that knowledge to "Fruitlands." I am left puzzled as to why Bronson Alcott is held in such esteem - maybe you had to be there.
Excellently researched and written, with details and analysis that were new to me and provided more context and insight to this period of Louisa's life.
Francis did his scholarly best to take a heap of letters and diary entries and turn them into a narrative of the rise and fall of this rather short-lived little Massachusetts commune, where Louisa May Alcott (as a child) and her family, along with assorted hangers-on, worked to perfect themselves through linen clothing and a very austere vegan diet. I am drawn to stories of experiments in communal living, and have a soft spot for those located in the Bay State. This one, although exhaustively researched, leaves me wanting to know more, especially about the only two adult women at Fruitlands. Abigail Alcott, Louisa’s mother, seems to have been burdened with an excessive amount of the work of daily living, while the men scribbled out their world-changing philosophies and gadded about the countryside visiting genteel Transcendentalists with the hope of getting more money. An even more mysterious figure is the one single woman there, Ann Page, who left a life in Providence to live in a barn in the middle of the countryside, sharing that space with, among others, a guy who saw swearing as spiritual practice, and another guy whose practice was nudism. What was her story and what was she thinking?
This isn't exactly a subject with broad appeal but if you are interested in the transcendentalists, it's a terrific study of Bronson Alcott failed utopian experiment. Francis is a terrific writer and historian. I found this especially valuable for it. Inclusion of correspondence between Abigail Alcott and her uncle Samuel May. For fans of "Little Women," this is a reality check on dear, patient, long-suffering Marmee. Abby was justifiably resentful of her neurotic, egotistical idealist husband and we get to hear from her about it.
There's also plenty of Emerson and Margaret Fuller material.
A comprehensive and exhaustive work. It is an indispensable study for those interested in the Alcott family or the history of utopian movements. At times I found Francis's tone during the course if the book too derisory, but in the end his analysis of the failings and victories of the Fruitlands project seem well-balanced.
Having toured the Fruitlands' Museum that encompasses several buildings, this was a fascintating read. Also having read Little Women for a recent book club selection, it was equally as fascinating to read that the background for many of Louisa's fictional situations were a result of her Fruitlands experiences.
The inter-connected friendships of Alcott, Emerson and Thoreau as well as the people who sought differing lifestyles in the communities spinging up in Europe and New England was educational...at time the differing philosphophies too much to handle all at once, but am very glad to write that I enjoyed.
This was an interesting read, but it might or might not be what you expect. This is much more about Bronson Alcott than about Louisa, for instance. So if you were looking for something Louisa-centric, this isn't it. I'm interested in both of them, so that was OK.
You'll see a lot more background information about Bronson Alcott and about Charles Lane in this book than you've probably seen in other books. It's largely based on surviving diary entries and letters from the family, friends, and residents of Fruitlands.
I wish I could give three and a half stars. This book covered an incredible amount of interesting history, citations and all, but a little more narrative and background would have made it a bit easier for a non-academic like myself to enjoy. Overall, an excellent read, but you do need your thinking cap on when you sit down with it.
This was actually ver interesting in terms of utopian communities and the Alcott family. It's unfinished however. I think I just couldn't get into as much detail as was necessary to finish it. Still, happy to have it on my shelf.