The Botany of Desire

I always both read more in the spring and enjoy reading more, because I have what feels like infinite plane time during my annual conference binge. Some books really benefit, and I think this is one – Pollan was quite dry in parts of his exploration of the culture relationship between humans and cultivated plants and I'm not sure I would have been able to maintain interest without a plane ride sprawling in front of me.

The dryness of the writing, which in my opinion arose from bizarre literary choices, like the need to categorize every human instinct and plant behavior into Dionysian or Apollan (because...actually I never figured it out. I think it was to contrast chaos in the natural world with artificial imposition of order. But I think you can do that while still consigning Dionysus to the books about grapes.) Once I got past that, the book was actually quite good. I usually am terrified of books invoking evolutionary concepts because it's just so poorly done in most popular literature, but Pollan has a very good grasp on genetics; often he first offers an anthropomorphized or simplified hypothesis about why a trait such as sweetness evolved and then goes deeper to explore how that would actually be a competitive advantage for a plant carrying a specific gene.

I thought it was extremely interesting that most of the plants in the book were plants that don't “breed true” (i.e. have a sexual reproductive pattern resulting in genetically diverse offspring), such as apples and tulips, and how the extreme diversity that results within a single species of plant turns out to be a strong advantage. Pollen argues that this is particularly true as an artificial advantage because it makes plants adapt more quickly to human demands for cultivation. Interesting, but not completely convincing.

Anyway, I found the individual stories of each plant also interesting, in particular the story of the apple, how it was first used almost entirely for alcohol on the American frontier and the Johnny Appleseed story and the story of the tulip and the Dutch tulip mania. I was less convinced by the exploration of marijuana, which had a strong focus on why humans would evolve an endogenous cannabinoid pathway that I found overly speculative. Potatoes, the Irish potato famine and genetically-modified organisms was done in a less speculative manner and I thought Pollan explored the differences between the artificial selection already introduced in the book with GMOs in a very even-handed manner.

This is a very Michael Pollan book (how auspicious that someone that writes so well about plants has such a homophone for a last name!). He can't help but write in his own voice, as if he would want to. What that means is that he will charm you with his passion for interweaving natural and human history, often to great effect. For example, he has sections on the Judeo-Christian suppression of psychoactive plants and herbal medicines that works itself into a righteous outrage. There are little gems like that sprinkled through: wild apples in Central Asia, the contrast between bright saturated tulips and monochromatic grey Calvinist Netherlands.

On the other hand, it means that you're in for a lot of mellow Northern-California patrician baby boomer...uh...insight. If that's something that turns you off, you're going to hate this book. Me? I kind of like the boomer duo of counterculture hangover and unselfsonsciously narrow points of reference, so I enjoyed his genial narration.

The parts add up to slightly less than its sum...this is more like a collection of essays on four plants, but if you're interested in natural history, foodways, botany, or interdisciplinary environmental science, have at it. Anyone else can give it a skip.

Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, this book was pretty interesting. My personal favorite chapter? The potato chapter. It was just so good chef's kiss

No, really, this book was good. I love plants so it was really neat to read a book about plants that wasn't simply “here's how to grow a tomato” (mine are doing great, by the way). Instead, it touched upon history and science and evaluated plants and domestication in a lens I hadn't previously considered.

It's probably one of the drier nonfiction books I've read, unfortunately, however I still thought it was really good. I think this might be a sign that I'm getting better at reading nonfiction? Maybe.