A powerful work of memoir and storytelling that will change the way we think about the natural world
Unearthed is the story of how Claire Ratinon found belonging through falling in love with growing plants and reconnecting with nature. Like many diasporic people of colour, Ratinon grew up feeling cut off from the natural world. She lived in cities, reluctant to be outdoors, and stuck with the belief that success and status could fill the space where belonging was absent.
Through learning the practice of growing food, she unpicked her beliefs about who she ought to be. Over her first year living in the English countryside and with the first vegetable patch of her own, she found a pathway back to nature's embrace. And through growing the food of Mauritius, recording her parents' stories and exploring the history of the island, she also strengthened her connection to her homeland.
Unearthed urges us to look to the world outside for the belonging and home we seek. It is a heartfelt call to reconsider our history, the way we think about nature and the complex relationships we all have with the land.
A blend of memoir, growing food and meditations on race, set to the backdrop of the author's move from London to the countryside. I enjoyed the sections where the author describes growing vegetables from Mauritius but some of the other parts felt a bit laboured/overly long.
Thank you Netgalley and Random House UK / Vintage for the advance copy, which was provided in exchange for an honest review.
A deeply moving book, at times unsettling and upsetting, as is to be expected of any account of slavery and colonialism. I learnt so much about Mauritius, a country I knew nothing about before. My only critique was I wasn't always too sure where the book was going next and I was holding out for some moments of hope amongst the sadness, which didn't always materialise (my issue more than the writers perhaps)...regardless, once I'd got a couple of chapters in, I couldn't put it down.
Unearthed is part memoir, part investigation, based on author Claire Ratinon’s life, identity and Mauritian heritage.
Claire interlaces this theme with her love of gardening, and we join her in a journey which began with a garden on the top of a New York building. Roots play an important part both with family and the plants that she tends.
There’s much to consider and Claire provided some dark history lessons about the exploitation of Mauritius and the people who once called it home; slavery was rife. It makes for sobering reading as do her thoughts about where we are in the world with inequality and prejudice.
My favourite parts of the book were learning about some of the foods that grow in Mauritius and how the author was successful in growing them in her English garden. I also enjoyed the simple almost lyrical descriptions of nature and how the author nurtured her plants.
Loved it so much. She writes so well about what she sees, learns, feels, experiences, wonders, dreams. So many great passages in this honest, emotional, poetic, insightful book!
This book was unexpected for me in the knowledge and emotion it contained. I didn’t know what was coming with each chapter but in each there were little bits of information I never knew before! I enjoyed the little bits of stories from their parents. The book linked colonialism to the degradation and extraction from the natural world in a way that I didn’t consider before. As someone of colour too, I understood the apprehensions of moving to the countryside as well as the barriers that exist to us enjoying nature!
Growing and cooking food has been given little importance, with time and convenience taking precedent. I appreciated Claire’s rawness in telling their story and how it lead them to growing food and reclaiming what it means for them!
'Unearthed' by Claire Ratinon is a brilliant work of memoir and nature writing which is beautifully written and highly perceptive. Ratinon originally worked as a documentary-maker before becoming interested in gardening and food growing, initially in New York and then in London. 'Unearthed' recounts her first year living and gardening in a Sussex village, with frequent glimpses back to her own upbringing, her parents and her Mauritian heritage.
Ratinon is fiercely engaged with questions of structural inequality and powerfully explores the way in which debates around nature and the environment can intersect with racism, from the disturbing rhetoric of ecofascism to the conflation of the terms 'non-native' and 'invasive' to describe plant species. She also discusses how people of colour are under-presented in nature writing and are more generally often seen not to belong in green spaces, as was shockingly demonstrated in the Central Park birdwatching incident which took place on the same day as the murder of George Floyd. Ratinon connects these ideas to hers and her family's experiences of racism and to the white supremacist ideals underpinning the colonial history of Mauritius which persist into this century.
Many sections of this book therefore make for challenging reading, but this is also a book full of hope and healing as Ratinon writes about the joy that can be found in plants and growing. I was particularly moved by her efforts to grow Mauritian plants as a tribute to her parents and a way of connecting with and reclaiming her heritage. Overall, I found this a very illuminating and important book. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for sending me an ARC to review.
Really incredible, poetic memoir about market gardening and growing food/living in the countryside of South England as a poc. Ratinon's prose is gorgeous to listen to (I listened through BorrowBox, essentially the libraries version of audible - so completely free! Would recommend to people who are trying to cut down on their monthly subscriptions to things) and the way she describes her experience with growing in general was a story I've experienced, and heard from many of my friends and colleagues. It's really fucking difficult. There are so many people relying on you getting your job right, and as the people at the beginning of the food chain, so many things can go wrong.
We need to harvest ridiculously early, make sure everything looks beautiful for the shop, veg box or cafe. After this, running around trying to make sure everything is watered, or batten down the polytunnel so it doesn't blow away. Pinch out hundreds of tomato plants, sow seeds for Autumn (because if you haven't planned, there'll be a famine on the farm when the next season comes). Prick or plant out seedlings that are too big for their pots, if they outgrow them, they'll be stunted, not produce fruit, or start to wilt. Timing is everything.
It's the best job I've ever done. But it's really really mentally distressing sometimes. The list never ends. You never finish anything, because you're growing things. They're living and they need to be looked after. But if, on top of all of this, you also aren't accepted because you don't 'fit the image.' Then it is even worse.
This was a massive wake up call and beautifully written. I was really disgusted at parts, but I'm not surprised either. Unfortunately, a large proportion of the countryside in England is highly patriotic, psychotic, unaccepting. The views that are only just starting to come into fruition in our cities and conversations are not present in the areas of England where many estates and lands were entirely funded by enslavement, illegal trade, stealing crops to import. I really want to recommend this to every grower, national trust estate, RHS garden, allotment holder, community garden volunteer I know, because the reality this book offers is not shown in these places. We are not engaging with the history of the landscape we live in. It's beauty and its wonder, yes. But the dark history which is so sadistically hidden, no.
*The only thing I found a little difficult was the authors voice in the audiobook. So monotonous! I loved parts of it, but the poetic wonder of the writing fell flat in some places because of this*
“The erasure was intentional. It keeps us, the erased, from knowing the true extent of the injustices meted out on our people and those like us. It keeps us from demanding truth and restitution. It keeps us silent and compliant, and heedlessly aligning ourselves with the power structures that haven't stopped exploiting people all over the world. The erasure keeps us from knowing what came before we were stolen. What knowledge and wisdom, innovation and understanding, love stories and war stories, languages and beliefs have been obliterated in the process of erasing us? And the question that looms largest in the space where my heart aches is: had we been left to live our lives without interference, who might we have been? The legacy of colonised peoples holds so much more than just tales of suffering. I refuse to believe that's all that there is; I know there was much before. I know that there was resistance and wisdom and that there was survival. I know this to be true because I wouldn't be here, were it not.”
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Such a beautiful read, and such an honest and heartfelt book. I really really really enjoyed this and cannot explain how many times I felt as though Claire was writing about Palestinians when she was talking about Mauritians, that excerpt above stuck out the most to me. Our struggle against colonialism is one.
This book was slightly slow paced and really tender at parts which I was a fan of!
Also, on a more personal oversharing-y note, I always talk about how I find it so hard to look forward to the future, but reading this made me think about how lovely and sweet would it be to own some land and grow your produce and be able to spend time in the countryside with someone you love… *screams like a banshee* anyways. Highly recommend this 💚
(3.5 Stars) I liked this but didn’t love it. It’s fantastic to get a new perspective on nature writing, and I think the connections between race/identity and nature is a fantastic topic to explore, but I’m not sure if Ratinon is adept at doing that as I would like her to be.
I love a nature based memoir, I’ve read a small handful at this point and I think, aside from Amy Liptrot’s writing, they all have a density within the words (topic aside). I felt that weight whilst reading Unearthed and Alice Vincent’s Rootbound, they clearly have the urge to back their points with fact, but at certain points it felt overwrought. As with Vincent’s Rootbound, Ratinon’s writing doesn’t have levity or ease when it comes to the ‘non-memoir’ parts of the book - it lacked balance.
The parts around Ratinon’s own life and family are a lovely and relatable read, both the parts where she builds her own relationship with nature and explores her experiences with race - growing up, life in her small village and in particular how her own heritage links her to nature. This really is where Ratinon’s writing shone, I especially enjoyed hearing the stories of her Mauritian family through nature and her own (at times) separation from that culture.
I think this would have functioned better as an exploration of race/identity, solely through Ratinon’s experiences- that is just as valid an exploration, without the need to define and explore specific ideologies.
I received an advanced reader copy of Unearthed from the publisher via NetGalley.
To be fair, I read this immediately after reading Rebecca Schiller's "Earthed" and was kinda getting them mixed up in my head. I kept wondering where Ratinon had stowed her kids, then remembered that she didn't have any, they belonged to the previous book. And whereas Earthed was more about neurodiversity and mental health than it was about gardening, Unearthed is more about race, migration and colonialism rather than gardening. Or rather, gardening's relationship with those topics. I knew nothing about the history of Mauritius, so found that interesting. However in places I found the metaphors to be a bit clunky or overworked, for example the rant about plants being classed as "native" or "non-native," particularly in regards to invasive plants, and how this is an aspect of racism. Yes, some plants that we class as native, might have been imported here a long time ago (hello Romans, I'm looking at you.) But non-native and invasive are important features to understand about a plant if you're trying to garden in a sustainable, wildlife-friendly and responsible manner. The bamboo plants that came to popularity in the 90s are causing havoc in some places. Buddleia is very wildlife friendly but will colonise your chimney. And that's before you look at Japanese knotweed. I'd prefer to grow plants that will support wildlife and not take over my garden, I don't think that necessarily means I'm a member of Britain First.
This is a book about gardening, but it is also a book about race and the power of ownership, exclusion, heritage and dominant narratives and mental health, amongst other things.
Ratinon's parents moved to the UK from Mauritius in the Fifties and settled here. This explores Claire's own feelings of rootlessness and despair at growing up in a country which either overtly or covertly pushes her to the margins. It explores the cost of growing up with your otherness as a banner that blatantly and often detrimentally defines you before you, yourself get any choice in the matter.
This is about Claire's decision to make choices to commit to a plot of land and growing food that will sustain her mentally and emotionally as well as physically and the extraordinary toll it exacts as she strives to create a place in a space that isn't designed for her. This plays out against the background of Brexit, the pandemic and the murder of George Floyd to make for powerful, difficult and at times, anxious reading. I am grateful for the courage it must have taken to write this, knowing how it might be received.
This is a unique and brilliantly written book where the strength of the writing and narrative shines.
It's ultimately a story about race and racism in today's world, told from first hand experiences that are at times difficult and painful, but important to read. Parts of the book challenge the way British society tries to cover or smooth over its colonialist history but it explains the positives of learning the truth and the impacts of everyday and systemic racism. I found it enlightening and always gently solution focussed.
Around all of this is the story of one person's simple desire to move closer to nature, of finding a place and purpose in this world through plants and growing food. There's a sweet and personal story here of family, love and chickens.
The juxtaposition of what should be a simple step for someone to take (move to the country) against the friction of an undercurrent of racism makes this an emotionally powerful and poignant story I will find hard to forget.
2.5 i had to read this for class, not out of my own volition, and it is not my type of book. i have very little interest in memoirs of people that don’t directly deal with themes i’m very passionate about, and as much as i’m starting to grow to love autotheory, i didn’t really like unearthed. ok, i didn’t dislike it, but i didn’t like it. i found it very monotonous, unnecessarily long, and repetitive. i found the subject matter interesting in theory, but something about how a lot of it was written just did not work for me. it’s just not my type of book, and my listening to 2/3 of it on audible at x2 speed probably didn’t help. i will say that i was very lucky, and claire ratinon came to my class to speak about the book, and i really really liked her and everything she had to say. as she was talking i kept asking myself why i didn’t like the book that much if i was really liking her ?? but anyway, i loved getting to hear her speak, even if the book was not for me.
I trust where I sit as being infinitesimal within the great elemental shifts across our planet, a plant that sits within a universe amongst many universes, under a sun and a moon among many suns and moons. I sit within this knowledge and belief it gives my modest acts more meaning, not less. That this knowing shows my existence to be both miraculous and profoundly unremarkable. From this understanding I feel able to participate in these great flows of energy that move us all to worship at the altar of the forces of nature. So yes, I suppose I do pray. Growing plants is how I pray.
I pause for a few moments to listen to the rumble of buzzing and humming and chirping. It is raucous and divine.
With long chapters and delicious descriptions of nature, this is a book to take your time with and sink into. It manages to be many things; a memoir set during the pandemic, a testimony on racism, a well-made argument about the dangers of eco-fascism, and a history of colonialism. It’s rare that an author can tie this all together so seamlessly, so this book feels like an achievement. In particular, I really liked learning about the history of Mauritius and I enjoyed interrogating how I talk about the English countryside and ideas of who is entitled to live there.
Read my full review on aminasbookshelf.com / IG @aminasbookshelf
This memoir is a really lovely exploration of the tension around identity, belonging, and cultivating. Ratinon is of Mauritian descent but was raised in the U.K., and describes her journey to stake her own claim in a land, country and culture that often rejects or dismisses her. Her love of plants, her island of origin, and her family are fierce. Her pain and quiet rage are also vivid when she talks about the impact of colonialism and slavery on Mauritius, its people, and its habitats. Her story is raw and vulnerable, and also tender and gentle.
A gently powerful, moving and insightful book. I listened to the audio book which worked well. Claire writes beautifully and I could really picture her garden with its cucumber and tomato plants and chickens. She's generous with how much of herself she shares and I felt privileged to have had this insight into her experiences. I learnt a lot and I know the topics covered will stay with me for a long time. I found the last section particularly inspiring.
Loved the reflective memoir aspect of this, particularly everything that focused on Mauritius and her family history. The non-memoir parts of the book didn't always work as well for me - I think the topics covered are all really important things to dive into, but the style veered more into "summarising a definition/article" style narration sometimes, rather than the same narrative style as those more personal sections.
I loved the parts where Claire was gardening on the rooftop in London and seeing her country homes garden progress as well as the her thoughts on native versus non native plants and the language and nomenclature that is harmful in horticulture. The book took me awhile to get through and was bit slow paced but peaceful to read here and there.
I couldn’t put this down. It is such an honest, open, beautifully written book about racism, love of growing things, family and roots. I didn’t know much about Mauritius until reading this and it challenged some of my preconceptions about being white and environmentalism. Thank you, Claire!
I was reading this for uni, but didn’t finish it and don’t really have a desire to, but that’s not to say it isn’t a wonderful, poetic book - maybe I’ll come back to it in the future
Bemused at anyone giving this less than 5 stars. Honestly good enough to eat and so poignant. Realised I may have an affliction for literally anything to do with Mauritius !?!? The Last Colony about Chagos Archipelago got me right in the old feels in the exact same way!!!!
In Unearthed, Claire Ratinon explores the concepts of race and belonging, and their relation to the natural world and horticulture. By sharing the story of how she discovered growing food (especially that of Mauritius, her native homeland) as a way of finding fulfillment and reconnecting with her heritage, and nature itself, Ratinon begins her reflection on the connection we share with the land under our feet, and all flora and fauna we share it with; the history of land cultivation (particularly concerning the role horticulture and agriculture played in the Transatlantic slave trade, and consequently imperial and colonial expansions of European powers); and the way racially-swayed understanding of the natural world shapes the lives of people of colour, marginalising them. Based on her own experience as a Black British woman, Ratinon delves into the legacy of colonialism in horticulture, revealing much prejudice. It is thanks to the author's discerning exploration of such incredibly complex issues that Unearthed emerges a truly touching and enriching read.
There’s flashes of brilliance here and I believe in what Ratinon does, that we desperately need to acknowledge how colonialism and imperialism has extracted from and ravaged global environments. I loved how she connected strongly with her roots, both figuratively and literally, and found solace in veggie gardening. But I felt a lot like I didn’t have much new to learn. It was validating and motivating to hear of another marginalized person’s story of coming into their own and making space for themselves, but it often felt like preaching to the choir for me.
I know others, especially from privileged white UK communities will garner more from this than I did. For me, this felt almost like deja vu. I truly wish I could’ve enjoyed it more. Instead I feel a bit of exhaustion from how much marginalized people are placed in the role of teaching the privileged.
This memoir is beautifully written – sometimes achingly so – and is my pick for absorbing summer reading. Claire Ratinon is English-born of Mauritian heritage, and weaves and contrasts her growing connection with nature and gardening together with her parents’ stories and the enslavement of her ancestors by European colonisers. She encounters organic gardening on a New York rooftop, and it feeds her soul. Back in England her exploration of the natural world and growing food is a healing balm and antidote to the damage of colonisation, disconnection, diaspora and contemporary racism. Growing cucumbers, okra and bitter melon from Mauritius is a poignant strengthening of her family relationships and identity. While sometimes distressing, there is joy and honesty in this lyrical account. And chickens.