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Meanwhile Farm
Margaret Cheney gives us a lively view of her experiences and a great deal of insight into just what it takes to turn into a reality. Few accounts of returning to the land can match Meanwhile Farm for charm and wit.
196 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1975
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March 5, 2024
This book is the definition of a 1970s feminist back-to-the-land memoir, albeit from a middle-aged widow rather than the typical idealistic young couple or friend group. A much more seriously written one than the typical homesteading memoir, with a lot of philosophizing, and chapters arranged sometimes chronologically but at other times just as essays on various related topics. Almost felt like something that would be assigned for a college class, though I don't know what sort. Have a gander at the table of contents, if I can get it to display:
Actually, the feminism isn't particularly overt, except in standard 1970s references about women being independent and not needing a man to take care of things like manual labor, and one chapter near the end in which she attends a women's conference with some topics related to farming. There's a lot more praising the idea of young people moving out of the city, in a reversal of the flow during the Great Depression, and wanting to sustain themselves by growing their own food. She expresses hope this trend will continue, as well as some interesting speculation on where she thinks/hopes things will be by the year 2000, then 25 years away.
I admire the author for writing it and even including the dullest parts of starting a homestead from nothing, like drilling a well and clearing land for a house, but it's not always the most scintillating. I'm afraid I couldn't find much appreciation in my heart for the natural descriptions of swampy scrubland of west-central California either, except maybe in terms of the wildlife. But anecdotes about her own animals -- a couple of dogs, one short-lived and one who hilariously sorts her bones and other treasures into three piles for designated levels of specialness; a pair of Siamese cats; and later a flock of little Bantam chickens -- finally start to appear about 60 pages in, which liven up the story a bit.
Overall, despite the slow parts, I'm still glad I read it. I think it's a unique kind of book, and it definitely serves as a time capsule of a certain place and mindset 50 years ago.
Actually, the feminism isn't particularly overt, except in standard 1970s references about women being independent and not needing a man to take care of things like manual labor, and one chapter near the end in which she attends a women's conference with some topics related to farming. There's a lot more praising the idea of young people moving out of the city, in a reversal of the flow during the Great Depression, and wanting to sustain themselves by growing their own food. She expresses hope this trend will continue, as well as some interesting speculation on where she thinks/hopes things will be by the year 2000, then 25 years away.
I admire the author for writing it and even including the dullest parts of starting a homestead from nothing, like drilling a well and clearing land for a house, but it's not always the most scintillating. I'm afraid I couldn't find much appreciation in my heart for the natural descriptions of swampy scrubland of west-central California either, except maybe in terms of the wildlife. But anecdotes about her own animals -- a couple of dogs, one short-lived and one who hilariously sorts her bones and other treasures into three piles for designated levels of specialness; a pair of Siamese cats; and later a flock of little Bantam chickens -- finally start to appear about 60 pages in, which liven up the story a bit.
Overall, despite the slow parts, I'm still glad I read it. I think it's a unique kind of book, and it definitely serves as a time capsule of a certain place and mindset 50 years ago.
Displaying 1 of 1 review