Patricia Klindienst crossed the country to write this book, inspired by a torn and faded photograph that shed new light on the story of her Italian immigrant family's struggle to adapt to America. She gathered the stories of urban, suburban, and rural gardens created by people rarely presented in books about American Native Americans, immigrants from across Asia and Europe, and ethnic peoples who were here long before our national boundaries were drawn—including Hispanics of the Southwest, whose ancestors followed the Conquistadors into the Rio Grande Valley, and Gullah gardeners of the Sea Islands off the coast of South Carolina, descendants of African slaves.
As we lose our connection to the soil, we no longer understand the relationship between food and a sense of belonging to a place and a people. In The Earth Knows My Name , Klindienst offers a lyrical exploration of how the making of gardens and the growing of food help ethnic and immigrant Americans maintain and transmit their cultural heritage while they put roots down in American soil. Through their work on the land, these gardeners revive cultures in danger of being lost. Through the vegetables, fruits, and flowers they produce, they share their culture with their larger communities. And in their reverent use of natural resources they keep alive a relationship to the land all but lost to mainstream American culture.
With eloquence and passion, blending oral history and vivid description, Klindienst has created a book that offers a fresh and original way to understand food, gardening, and ethnic culture in America. In this book, each garden becomes an island of hope and offers us a model, on a sustainable scale, of a truly restorative ecology.
I'm not a gardener, but this is an absolutely fascinating book that lives at the intersection of politics, culture, the food industry, and (of course) gardening. It's built around the stories of immigrant gardeners: what they brought from the "old country", how they brought it, why it's important. And more important, it's about what we've lost through the food industry, and how that can be regained.
It's really more of a 3.5 rating, but Goodreads doesn't offer half stars, so I rounded up the rating for this enjoyable read.
The book is a collection of stories about the author visiting various immigrant families and their gardens. Each family has been kept together or strengthened or healed by their gardening, in many cases across generations. Throughout the book, Klindienst subtly but powerfully advances the argument that growing our own food is healthy for the planet, our families, and the country. The first argument may seem obvious, but the latter two assertions take a convincing shape when Klindienst describes, for example, a struggling urban community that keeps its children and teens engaged and off the streets by tending gardens, or a Cambodian-American family who uses their garden as a way to heal from their experiences under the Khmer Rouge.
Klindienst doesn't offer any simple answers; instead, she lets the families she interviews speak for themselves, with the effect of eliciting questions and thought from her readers. I found it meditative and quietly compelling-- a welcome respite from the sometimes too-clamorous fervor of the peaking Slow Food movement.
This is a really lovely collection of stories of gardeners and farmer's market scale farmers across the US and their cultural reasons for maintaining the practice (mainly, she's saying, it's the need for conection to memories of a life before being plunged into a foreign, non-farming-based culture). One of the chapters focused on my paternal aunt and uncle, who have an organic farm in Espanola, NM, my hometown. Some parts of the interviews with them made me choke up, sentimental weakling that I guess I've become, especially where my aunt and cousin talked about my grandparents' orchard and garden, of which are some of my earliest, most visceral memories.
Patricia Kliendienst does a wonderful job of letting the farmers' stories speak for themselves, rarely paraphrasing but giving us whole pages of directly transcribed dialogue. It really works here. The stories are moving, particularly the Cambodian family's.
Reading this, I was struck with the realization that for many of us, we're only the first or second generation to not have to grow our own food to some extent. My grandparents certainly had to, and while it was not necessary for my parents, they've always grown an enormous vegetable garden ever since I can remember. Now I have the itch to do the same, and am doing what space affords me, and can not imagine not doing more as I have more space.
This one was interesting but tough for me. The profiles are beautiful, but for some reason, I found myself reading them with the impatience I would listen to a grandparent's rambling reminiscences, wishing the book was organized more tightly by topic rather than a person or family-- history of maize or a book devoted to the specific struggles of a single displaced culture... All the while, half acknowledging that only after I have delved more deeply into that specific historic time will I appreciate how remarkable this person's experiences were and they may be long gone by then.
In this book, Klindienst records the results of her interactions with a number of ethnic gardeners now living in the United States. She visited “gardens of ethnic Americans whose stewardship of the land is an expression of their desire to preserve their cultural identity from all that threatens their survival as a people” (her words).
I found some of the stories moving. Others made me feel bad about Americans in general, especially those who show disrespect and disregard for the land.
I read this book slowly over more than a week for discussion with a bookclub. It deepened my commitment to my gardens.
This book was published almost 20 years ago, but the stories of the gardens and the immigrants who worked them are timeless. Each chapter focuses on an American garden and its gardeners: a Pueblo in New Mexico; the Gullahs in St. Helena Island, South Carolina; Bainbridge Island, Washington where a Polish vintner and a Japanese berry farmer share the land; the Khmer of Cambodia in western Massachusetts; Italians in Redwood City, California and Leverett, Massachusetts; a Punjabi garden in Fullerton, California; a Puerto Rican community garden in Holyoke, Massachusetts; and a descendant of the first colonists in Connecticut who the author enables to gift seeds of corn to the descendants of the indigenous people who were the first to grow them. Many of the stories are depressing - especially the stories from the Khmer growers and the Italian immigrants who fled Mussolini. The plants that immigrants grow to remind them of their heritage are different, more interesting, than the fruits, vegetables and herbs in an average American garden. There is much history to be learned or re-learned for today's reader. The author is a master gardener and teaches creative writing. Great combination for a book that I will always appreciate.
Klindienst brings gardening back to its essential and practical, as well as, passionate roots via the lens of different ethnic approaches. Based on in depth interviews that had her traveling all over the United States, to walk in widely varying gardens with its their knowledgeable tenders, Kliendienst offer stories with practical and scholarly information that brings the reader back to the passionate, sensual wisdom of our great grand parents.
I am an avid gardener, trained from an early age in flowers and vegetables. I really don't remember a time when I was not growing things, experimenting with propagation, eating directly from the garden. Klindienst's collection of stories fits my story. Though I am not an immigrant, I moved many times, and often my gardens were my connection to my past and to my then present. Some of the things I have used in my gardens (the three sisters planting method, for instance) have roots deep in indigenous methods, though I did not know this until now. More than once, when the human community failed me or my family, the community of the land did not. It is often my peace, sometimes my place of refuge, always safe.
This is perhaps one of the finest books I have read- ever. I don't know why this booked moved me the way it did. The writing is exceptional, yes, but it's also graceful and peaceful. The blend of immigrant stories of hardship and survival combined with the peace re-found in gardening, lives lived close to the land, small, sustainable eco-systems thriving on small plots of land, perhaps this is what moved me. In any case, I loved this book and certainly recommend it. I would love to read future books by this author, hint hint...
This is perhaps one of the finest books I have read- ever. I don't know why this booked moved me the way it did. The writing is exceptional, yes, but it's also graceful and peaceful. The blend of immigrant stories of hardship and survival combined with the peace re-found in gardening, lives lived close to the land, small, sustainable eco-systems thriving on small plots of land, perhaps this is what moved me. In any case, I loved this book and certainly recommend it. I would love to read future books by this author, hint hint...
Excellent book I can’t say enough about it however, it was sad to read about all the immigrant stuff that has been going on in the United States for a long long time. Even my parents who were Italian and on the other side, Irish had their enclaves in Pittsburgh and people stayed separate and the Italians also changed their name when they moved here. Reading about all the different gardens and how people arrange their food and how much food they get out of a small space was amazing. Lots to think about.
Klindienst crisscrosses the US in search of immigrant farmers who have reestablished their farming traditions and crops in diverse and often challenging settings. The lives of these farmers/growers are inspirational, and the author approaches each situation with loving openness. Some chapters were more compelling than others; a few seemed like verbatim transcriptions of conversations with the farmers. A bit more editing would have been welcome. The best chapters were when she put their immigration story into historical context.
Interesting account of ethnic gardens in the US but I think the author tried to cram in a little too much information - historical information about the gardens and gardeners, combined with persecution of the various ethnic groups involved. Sometimes I got lost in the narrative and the flavor of the various groups got lost. I particularly liked the one on the Gullah culture. On the other hand a good look at the growing interest in farm to table combined with the rule of ethnic gardens in this movement.
This is the most hopeful book that I have read in a long time. Americans have never treated folks that don't fit into a preconceived notion of normal very well. However, those who were other than "normal" persevered. The gardens that the communities and people created bring hope and healing.
"For so many of the gardeners whose stories we have heard...when the human community failed them, the community of the land did not."
For 26 years I struggled to feel at home in Western Pennsylvania; to 'grow where I was planted.' But the fact is that I was a Smith, daughter of Marshall the gardener, grown in West Whately, watered by New England rain. In retrospect, having returned to the same zip code of my youth, I see Pennsylvania as an exile a place of transplantation where I never really flourished.
The Earth Knows My Name is about the deep relationship between the soil, plants, planters, family, food and culture. It is wonderfully written book which tells the stories of ethnic peoples (exiles from foreign countries, Native Americans exiles IN their country), and their bonds with the soil. Most of all, The Earth Knows My Name is about healing; for example Cambodians from the 'killing fields' who make it to Amherst and Leverett and there grow gardens and live again:
"It is not only words that have the power to bind and connect, to shape the anarchic flow of human experience into a continuous narrative that begins to heal what has been torn apart by violence. There is also the silent and mysterious transaction of a hand burying a seed in the darkness of the earth."
More than anything else this spring, I want to be at home in a garden.
Gardens are about taking care. Of land, of plants, and of ourselves in the end. This "radical" notion pervades the stories of the ethnic gardeners covered in this book . Through the act of tending gardens, these ethnic gardeners find their place in the world. It's a joy to read about each gardener's favorite crops or the family history embedded in gardening traditions. It's often heartbreaking to hear the suffering or indignities they have endured in their homeland or in America.
A theme touched on again and again is the connection between food, place, and people. When we lose the intimate connection to our food, grown ourselves or by those around us, we lose the connection to the earth and each other. I thus find it inspiring to see so many examples of people becoming empowered or finding solace through the simple act of growing food and caring for the land. And I wonder about how gardening has changed me these last several years, and how I will grow through the continued experience of planting and tending gardens in the future...
The writing in this book was a little sentimental at times, but that's really my only criticism. I loved this book for introducing me to an amazing group of people who come from many different cultures, and have many different gardens, but the same kind of love for the land and the food that comes from it. Klindienst focuses on one or two gardeners in each chapter, and provides some background on their culture and the larger conflicts that led them to America (whether from a foreign land or the landmass that was here before Europeans). Anyone who cares about food, culture, gardening, sustainable living, or the rich tapestry of humanity should read this book! It is really inspiring.
I believe in fresh, green, healthy, vegetables for all! This book and the stories here do as well. This book is composed of stories of gardeners. Not just any garden, cultural gardens. This author traveled the United States and interviewed farmers/gardeners who are not only growing a garden for food, they are also growing to preserve the cultures which they come from. I believe in community and urban gardening. This books shares amazing stories about amazing people, and I fell in love with gardening and cultural anthropology all over agian.
While I was irritated by the author's continual use of the present tense, the vivid adventures of those who came to the U.S. for so many different reasons captured my imagination and my attention. The common thread of the sense of peace and timelessness they all nurtured in their gardens and the connection gardening gave them to their ancestors resonated with my own gardening experiences. If you have a middling tolerance for flowery prose, it is worth wading through to absorb the history and adventures contained in this book.
Now I'm done with this book. I love it. I love reading books where each chapter is a different story but they are all of the same basic theme. This book follows the theme of immigrant farmers. Each story involves cultural history, the journey to America, and a deep connection to the Earth as a connection to familial history. The people in these stories are as real as people get. Determined, strong people who have been through hell yet still keep on going. This book is incredibly inspiring.
Klindienst writes beautifully about the gardens she visits. She tells the stories of people who garden because it connects them to their cultures, allows them to nourish life, be an expert in a world where they usually feel so alien. This is a great little book, with short, vivid stories told in lovely, rich poetic prose.
This was a wonderful read. She goes through 9 different groups of immigrants and basically poetically tells the story of their lives through their gardens. One of my favorites is on the Khmer garden. She goes through different social/political categories for each story, i.e. Freedom, Justice, Community. It is also a great read of political/social history, too.
This is a good book if a bit sentimental. I appreciated the point of view of the author. I loved reading about the many different ways that people in America connect with farming and how that connects to their particular historical background (both their identity and the history of the place where they are farming now).
The issues this book presents won't be new to anyone who's read books like The Omnivore's Dilemma or Animal Vegetable Miracle, but the stories Klindienst has gathered are powerful, and she tells them skillfully and respectfully. Bonus for PacNW types: two of her interviewees are on Bainbridge Island.
Loved it. May have to switch things around in my ag history class to be able to teach it. Her narrative voice is a little cloying at times, but the people she interviews and their family stories are amazing. A great way to spend the winter, reading this in little sips before bed. Ethnic studies and gardening in one lovely mash-up.
A nice collection of the author's impressions, associations and research relating to a series of interviews with Americans of varied ethnic heritage and varied connections with gardens. Didn't keep me on the edge of my seat, but it was enjoyable to read.
This book tells stories of refugees and immigrants who have made a piece of Earth their own again by growing gardens with food and plants dear to their hearts and heritage. It is a wonderful glimpse in to the lives and culture of people not featured in most gardening magazines.
I loved this book, even if it's reminders of our huge environmental dilemma we created for ourselves made my mind reel. The different farmers' stories are inspiring and make you want to go out and till some soil.
Who knew Bartolomeo Vanzetti waxed lyric on his last days about his father's fabulous farm? I love how Klindeinst shows us various immigrants' lives, and how they use their gardens to either help them integrate into American society or help them keep connection with their original cultures.