‘ I wish I’d known, long before now, that sowing is an act of trust. That the body, as it sows & plants, when it tends land, as it hopes for growth, gives itself over to a vast & shifting future it could never, in that moment, quite imagine’ - p. 126
'Gardening, then, is a practice of sustained noticing. And though it should go without saying that open, natural space is something everyone should have immediate access to, gardening itself is not about having a garden. It is not about growing food or flowers... it seems to me that gardening is less about growing plants than it is about growing your own understanding of how they best live.' (Victoria Adukwei Bulley) . The authors of this essay collection reflect on sowing, growing, looking and being in gardens from a diverse range of perspectives. From shared vegetable patches in the city, to windowsill plants, seeds, grief and loss, to the natural knowledge we inherit or grow ourselves. I really enjoyed it.
a garden is…a space you occupy…a border you cultivate…a lesson on looking…a state of longing…a metaphor; symbol, for…a lover…first sin…a tree as mother…(a greenhouse that germinates in) matrilineal knowledge…when you think to yourself 'I remember when'…there are no such things as weeds…just our disdain for its effortless capacity to survive…weeds are good for the heart…a garden is always…the liver…broken circuits…the blood…to satisfy would be to betray itself…like a child who calls out “firetruck”…you call out the names of things…for the simple pleasure of saying 'I see'…
I read the author biographies first & so was excited about the diverse perspectives I thought I was about to absorb. But the majority of this book reads pale, privileged & stale. None of the writers respect trees & I burst out laughing when Nigel Slater had thousands of pounds worth of damage done to his ridiculous topiary by moths after he evicted a family of foxes, nature karma. There are periods of almost poetical perspective, but not enough to rescue this book.
Picked up this anthology from Daunt Books, and it gave me some mixed feelings. All essays are written by contemporary writers and are recent (some quote Corona times, which gives me the idea), and focus on, well, gardening.
I loved three out of fourteen.
One is by Jon Day, whose piece I liked for his warm personality. I don’t know if he is a nice guy to hang out with or not, but I enjoyed those minutes I spent with him while reading his piece on collective gardening in Essex.
Another one is an essay by Jamaica Kincaid. I liked it for the writing/punctuation device she uses in it - “-“. Frankly, the contents of her essay have slipped my mind already, but I liked the rhythm she created in her writing.
And one more essay that impressed me is written by Daisy Lafarge who is published by Granta. I like Granta’s choice of writing, usually, and I wasn’t disappointed with that essay. It also got me curious about Lynn Margulis and her theory of symbiogenesis - basically that organisms developed when various cells were engulfed by other cells and began to act as their organs. Something to add to my wish list.
The rest of the essays were either too uppity for my taste, or uninspired, and even slap-dash boring.
I like reading anthologies as a way to scout for new writers to read, and in this respect, I wasn’t disappointed. I would definitely steer clear of some writers and check out the work of others.
In the Garden is the latest collection of essays published by Daunt Books. Where each of the fourteen contributing writers, muses on the influential nature (pun well and truly intended) gardening has had on them and their lives.
Though personally what I found most interesting, was the discussions surrounding the importance of gardening and nature in the context of the much wider world. The impact on our communities, the ever changing state of our current and increasingly urban environments, as well as of course, the proven lasting effects on our mental health!
This is certainly an easy breeze read, and one like many short story collections out there you would probably choose to dip in and out of. Where some essays will definitely suit more to your reading and writing taste than others.
A beautiful collection of essays stressing the importance of gardens, outdoor spaces and nature to everyone. I enjoyed the nods to people’s experiences of the current pandemic and how their space, however big or small it may be, has helped them.
Not so much objective essays as personal reflections. Often following a similar theme of ‘having watched mother’. Different styles of writing but a bit samey in content. Enjoyable but won’t blow you away.
I sat reading this book in my little London flat, away from my Vancouver garden, most mornings this past month. As I read, I dreamed of touching the soil again, sowing and staring at everything that came after. I loved this collection of beautifully written and vivid essays on gardening and growing. They addressed many thoughts I have had about nature for a long time, such as why I am so keen to learn the binomial Latin names of plants, my hunch about its relation to colonial ideas of ownership, and the inadequacy of language to capture our experience of the natural world. Highly recommend to anyone curious or already in love with gardening.
"Since no plant necessarily needs human help to grow if the habitat is right, it seems to me that gardening is less about growing plants than it is about growing your own understanding of how they best live. In which case, the garden is you." -Victoria Adukwei Bulley, What We Know, What We Grow at the End of the World
a book stumbled upon in the library here— amongst shelves of books in korean that i really cant read. it’s a UK publication, so i dont think i would have easily gotten my hands on it had i not been in a korean university library (kind of magic). thoroughly enjoyed. i miss my garden. “the garden i have in mind” by jamaica kincaid was a stand-out favorite. lots of other notable ones. wont begin to name them all. it’s a lovely collection!
I really enjoyed my time with this book. Because if you like gardening (bcs I like too), and you can be at any skills level, then you'll likely enjoy it!
Thought it would be a bit more about personal growth as well as gardening, but I enjoyed it nonetheless and it does make me want to grow things !! Nice
Mlle Alice, pouvez-vous nous raconter votre rencontre avec In the Garden ? "Après une première plongée bien plaisante dans le 'nature writing' et ma lecture du recueil At the Pond, du même éditeur, il me fallait absolument ce magnifique petit ouvrage."
Dites-nous en un peu plus sur son histoire... "Il s'agit d'un recueil de nouvelles écrit par différents auteurs, certains plus connus que d'autres, de différents horizons et de différentes origines, qui nous parlent de ce que signifie le jardin pour eux."
Mais que s'est-il exactement passé entre vous ? "Le point fort de ce recueil, c'est que toutes les nouvelles sont très différentes, même le sujet est parfois différent. Certes, il y a toujours un lien avec le jardin mais certaines parlent d'engagement, de politique, d'autres de bien-être ou de santé mentale... Vous seriez surpris de la multiplicité de sentiments qu'un jardin peut évoquer à différentes personnes. Pour ma part, ce sont peut-être les plus simples que j'ai préféré, celles qui parlent de la vie, tout simplement, celles qui nous permettent de nous rendre compte à quel point la nature nous est essentielle et est certainement le meilleur témoin et la meilleure métaphore de notre évolution personnelle. J'ai trouvé, dans tous les cas, que les nouvelles soient douces, touchantes ou acides, qu'il y avait décidément beaucoup de poésie à parler de jardins."
Et comment cela s'est-il fini ? "C'est un recueil qui se savoure et que j'ai, encore une fois, beaucoup aimé. Il me reste à lire le troisième opus de cette collection, et cette fois, on parlera cuisine. J'ai hâte."
3.5. split into four sections, my favourites were the first called 'the garden remembered' and the third on 'the language of the garden'. my favourite essay of all was 'a ghost story'.
i found this collection of essays to be so charming and romantic and i loved especially the common thread of mothers and little children spending time together in a garden. to me a garden speaks of hope, patience, peace, love and protection, and i found these sentiments most abundantly and tenderly reflected in each essay. my attempts at gardening have failed thus far but i see every merit in tending to a garden (the grounding effect from its tactility, my hands in the soil) and hope to have my own flourishing one day.
from looking at the garden: all those after-school evenings with my mother were formative lessons in language as well as botany. most of all, they were lessons in looking: early proof that there is always more to see. i remember exclaiming, in my effusive, sixteen-year-old way, about a tiny vase of snowdrops on the kitchen table, the delicate green pinstripe on the underside of each petal. and my mother - who is by nature much less effusive, verbal, demonstrative than i am - smiling tolerantly, and then saying with a strange sideways look: 'if you can feel that way about a snowdrop, you're going to have a happy life.' it was an uncharacteristically personal pronouncement that i didn't fully understand at the time. i grasped just enough of what she meant to receive it as a secret conferred, a blessing.
I have this fantasy that, one day, I’ll take up gardening. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s something I imagine myself doing in the future, someday, when I am a better version of myself than I am now. Because I know gardening will do me good – I know it will make me feel whole, and banish those insidious feelings of anxiety and dread that are the hallmark of modern life. As Candide says, in the face of the senseless cruelty of the world, ‘we must cultivate our garden.’ Gardening is the only way.
The authors of In the Garden encapsulate the sense of ‘we must cultivate our garden’ that Voltaire professed in 1759. The meaning gardening gives to life manifests in the essays: gardening is an anchor, a still point in the ever-fluctuating background of life. ‘Companion Planting’ expresses the power of gardening to spark whole communities into being. ‘A Common Inheritance’ gives a literary history of London’s green spaces and their enduring value in perpetuity. ‘Putting the Brakes On’ investigates the intersection of gardening and modern anxiety.
As is a common pitfall with autobiographical essays, a few of these essays are sometimes narcissistic, centring too much the ‘I’ in gardening and forgetting about the ramifications for the ‘we’ – surely the point of essay-writing. But when these essays are good, they are so good, and just galvanise my fantasy alter-ego as a gardener. One day!
Buku ini menunjukkan betapa kebun adalah sesuatu yang kerap kali dekat dengan kebiasaan keluarga; kebiasaan masa kecil yang ditumbuhkan oleh orang tua. Benih yang disemai itu mungkin kita rawat sampai kita tuai hasilnya, atau justru ia mati untuk akhirnya kita sadari bahwa kehidupan itu pernah ada dan mungkin. Namun, walaupun para penulis menjelaskan mengapa kebun dan berkebun itu sendiri bermakna sesuatu, mereka tidak begitu mengaitkan pengalaman personal ini ke sesuatu yang lebih besar. Misalnya rasisme, krisis tempat tinggal (yang berkelindan dengan akses ke kebun komunitas), atau alasan dasar mengapa kebun komunitas itu penting bagi komunitas itu sendiri. Beberapa esai juga terasa membosankan untuk dibaca, tetapi lumayan lah untuk bacaan ringan.
Karena latar belakang buku ini di Inggris, sejujurnya, aku jadi kangen masa-masa berkebunku di Calthorpe Community Garden.
This collection was a lovely change from some of the more intense books I've read recently and provided perfect escapism during a stormy February week.
There is a real variety of style, focus and perspectives in this book. I particularly like Paul Mendez's essay on how a garden can be a place of both refuge in a hostile environment and radical reclamation of the land we're all born into and deserve to share and take pleasure from.
Solas, Solace by Kerri Ni Dochartaigh was also a favourite; a beautiful exploration of how the writer's journey through pregnancy was interwoven with her observations in her garden in the form of poetic journal entries. The acknowledgement of the pandemic in several of the essays throughout also makes this collection feel particularly relatable and relevant.
A short yet very sweet book lamenting upon the pleasures of gardening, outdoor spaces and having your hands upon and within the Earth.
There is a myriad of voices here, all with their own perceptions of gardening, growing and losing yourself in an activity for pleasure.
Each voice comes to the same conclusion however; gardening teaches mindfulness and patience. Plant some seeds and watch them grow, but ultimately it is up to nature what happens from then on in.
Pleasurable reading on one of my favourite subjects.
I enjoyed most of the essays, some were simply delightful to read, and there might have been one or two that did not entirely hit the spot. As I read the essays, I found it beautiful to read how much natures means to others. I felt less alone to read how connected others also felt to the natural world, and the effects it can have on us. Needless to say I am tempted to grab a spade and get to work in my mom’s garden or buy an unreasonable amount of pots. But it is probably best to wait for water restrictions to lift before starting any garden projects for the time being.
A calm and gently read that puts you in good company with fellow green fingers. It's nothing too instrumental but reading all these accounts from different people and their connection/introduction to gardening relaxes you when you identify the similar feelings and moments you went through to become just as devoted to your garden. The challenges and the successes. The observations of nature and the impact on social life. The reason why you choose to garden is always going to be uniquely yours, and so are the reactions and consequences.
An anthology of essays on nature and growing. Some hopeful and inspiring (Companion planting, Jon Day), some relatable (Putting the brakes on, Neillah Arboine), some pretentious (Five Tongues, Daisy Lafarge) and one that was uncomfortably sickly nostalgic about life during lockdown (Solas, Solace, Kerri Ni Dochartaigh). Clearly there was an attempt to hear from diverse voices and I enjoyed how I could move to the next if I wasn't fond of an author's writing style. Still, many of the reflections were inspired by 'watching mother plant xyz' which I found tedious. 2.5* rounded down
What an absolute delight to read. The intricacies of writing and gardening are woven together flawlessly—each essay feels introspective, personal, and profoundly familiar in it’s own right. In a way, the very structure of this book reminds me of a garden itself: each chapter is an organism of its own, spreading its roots in a verdant web across the pages, connecting to the other writers’ fruits of their labor beneath the soil.
As a lovers of gardens and growing, this was a really enjoyable read. Some articles were a little similar, e.g. exploring gardens as paradise, gardening as the art of noticing, but all in all a very easy, quick enjoyable read. I really liked being able to taste the writing of different authors, many I hadn't heard of before.
I will be checking out more of the daunt essay collections.
this book was just fine to me. mostly because i dont really have any interest in gardening. its not a bad book though. i can see how someone else would like these essays more than me and although the topic wasnt as intriguing, i thoroughly enjoyed reading to see what type of essay i’ll read next.