Gotham Locavores Rejoice

Robin Shulman’s Eat the City is a cheerful account of the idiosyncratic passions that allow for the making of food in New York City. Lightly mixing history with contemporary interviews, Shulman makes it clear that the city has always been a place where some make, find, grow or catch their food. Further, while many of us no longer thing of New York City as no longer playing that role, it is.

Broken into chapters by food group – bees and honey, meat, wine, sugar, vegetables, fish and beer – the books nimbly covers the geography and history of the city. Shulman is more interested in people and tastes than production or society. Restaurants rarely rate a mention and it is mighty difficult to find a recipe in the pages. It is difficult to tell is Shulman is motivated by curiosity or a deeper love of food. I would have wished for the latter, even at a price of her professionalism. Her subjects all display a singular passion for their pursuits, be they ale or smoked pig from a Queens farm.

The book’s structure reflects the long shadows of John McPhee, for narrative description, and Michael Pollan, for argumentation and structure. But this is no polemic. Shulman’s text is grounded in close observation. A practicing journalist who has spent extensive time overseas, Shulman has an eye for detail. Implicit in the work is an ideological agenda, however, these people are doing something important and interesting. But that raises questions. Are the locavores merely characters? Hipsters?  Or do they represent something larger or something more important?  I would argue that they do, but Shulman shies away from bigger arguments. She could have – but reading this one has the sense that she never really settled down with a clear of idea of what she wanted the book to say.

It is, however, a tasty read – particularly the chapters on bees and meat. And a welcome addition to the study of the world’s most interesting city.

October 29, 2012 American Culture Today, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

A City And The Clever Folks Who Live There

“Rollicking” is a word for the page. It is read, not spoken, and it invariably paired with “good fun.” No one has rollicking misery, rollicking shingles, or a rollicking breakfast – though good company, a delicious omelette and fine coffee are very good fun. Boris Johnson, mayor of London, shameless promoter of the city and of all things Boris Johnson, is an accomplished man. Author of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, journalism and countless posts and articles, he recently penned Johnson’s Life of London, The People Who Made The City That Made The World. It is, at least for its first half, a rollicking good read.

In love with the city he leads, Johnson’s pseudo-history is a panegyric to London through short biographic study of approximately two dozen Londoners. Johnson’s prose is a delightful mixture of erudition and the corporeal, if not scatological. It is not surprising, for example, to read about the invention of the flush toilet or the sex life of J.M.W. Turner. Johnson admires ambition and those that live hard, work hard and play hard. His admiration for Geoffrey Chaucer, Robert Hooke and Winston Churchill leaps from the page.

Johnson’s history is not history, though. It is dinner party chatter, enjoyable anecdote and observation. Enthusiasm and humor drive the stories. It is a book that was dashed off from an erudite brain and energetic personality. It is charming, as I’m sure Boris Johnson would be in person. That doesn’t mean that he would necessarily have my vote.

October 27, 2012 Reviews

When Running Away Makes Sense

Carissa Phelps’ memoir, Runaway Girl: Escaping Life on the Streets, One Helping Hand At A Time, recounts a horrific childhood and adolescence. Born into poverty and growing up in central California, Carissa was sexually exploited by the age of twelve. She was living on and off the streets of Fresno by the time she was thirteen. Raped repeatedly, sold for sex and trapped in a culture of drugs, violence and abuse, Carissa repeatedly ran away. She ran from home, from the juvenile detention centers she was sent, and from the men and women who hurt and used her.

Always smart, always good with numbers, Carissa did not stay in school, either, until her mid-teens. With the ongoing support of a teacher and a counselor, Carissa slowly started putting her life together. She graduated from Cal State Fresno, and then later a JD and an MBA from UCLA. It was never an easy journey. Even as she began to succeed educationally and professionally, difficult choices and decisions troubled her. Steady relationships, trust and “normal” relationships with others challenged her. It is understandable, too. How does one reconcile such a life and move on?

Now an advocate, attorney and speaker, Carissa Phelps tells her story and works to help young men and women. She is a vocal presence warning of the horrors of human trafficking and childhood abuse. She is using her story to give help and hope to others.

I would like to say that the book is uplifting or optimistic, but it is not. Written in a flat, matter-of-fact tone, Runaway Girl has the bluntness of a police report. It is difficult to see how it could be otherwise. Phelps’ uses language and the narrative to both share and hide. She cannot explain. It is impossible to do so. All that she can do for most of the book is describe. The cumulative effect is one of great sorrow.

Ms. Phelps’ strength is that of a survivor. Like a boxer who is able who is beaten round after round but remains standing, Ms. Phelps’ determination is admirable. But there is no joy in taking the beating.

Though not a feminist text, the book is a primer in misogyny. Carissa is a recurring site of exploitation and hatred. The moments in the text when she describes others treating her humanely, valuing her as a person, stand out.

At a larger level, the book makes clear the dystopian culture of poverty, drugs, abuse and indifference in our culture. The streets for many of our young are Hobbesian camps of power and exploitation. With sex and drugs are the prime economic drivers, other values stand little chance of gaining a toe-hold. The memoir also demonstrates the colossal ineffectiveness of our “system” to address adolescents who get into trouble. Happenstance is what helped Phelps survive, not planning, not thoughtful care, and most definitely not a system.

A story of success on one level, the book is also a story of many failures, many lives lost and ruined. It is, in many ways, a nightmare, a vision of what many young people must see as a life without hope or love.

October 20, 2012 American Culture Today, Reviews

Trying To Make Sense Of The Incomprehensible

Bookstores shelve books about the past under the heading of history. Historians have other preferences.

Two new books about World War II highlight the historians’ perspective. Both works were sparked by family histories and both show the strengths and shortcomings of personal history.

In The Boy Who Went to War, Giles Milton recounts the story of Wolfram Aichele, a reluctant German soldier and Milton’s father-in-law. Rachel S. Cox’s Into Dust and Fire recounts the story of five Americans who volunteered to fight the Nazis before the United States was at war. Among the five was Robert Hill Cox II, Rachel Cox’s uncle.

Wolfram’s story is fascinating. The book is described as “narrative non-fiction” It is not history, but it is not fiction, either.

Wolfram grew up in Pforzheim in southwest Germany, a happy boy in a household whose values were strongly anti-Nazi. A talented wood-carver and artists, Wolfram avoided service until he was drafted/coerced into national service. Sent to the Crimea, where he almost died of diphtheria, Wolfram was later re-assigned to France, where he was captured and subsequently sent to a POW camp in Oklahoma. Wolfram’s story and the story of his family reveals the tremendous heartache and horror of World War II. Pforzheim, for example, was firebombed by the British at the end of the war and almost completely obliterated.

The book makes clear its sympathy for many of its characters. It also emphasizes the complete lack on individual knowledge or agency of how lives were completely upended by the conflict.

Milton writes with clarity. His organization is mostly chronological and he links, when possible, local stories with broader historical knowledge. He is acutely conscious of what people knew and what they did not, and his narrative takes pains to give consideration to contextualizing the events faced by his protagonists. The prose helps the reader, too, making accounts lifelike in their detail.

Cox’s story relies heavily upon the letters of the five: three Dartmouth undergraduates, Charles Bolte, Jack Brister, and Charles McClane, and two Harvard students, Rob Cox and Heyward Cutting.  Three of the young men were graduates of St. Paul’s prep school in New Hampshire. They enlisted to see action, to take advantage of an historical tie between America and England, and to serve. The book describes their training in England and their hardships in North Africa. While the three took a courageous step, the machinery of the war treated them with indifference. Three of the young men died and the fourth lost a limb.

Unfortunately, Cox approach to the text is circuitous. She tries to build tension, but what results is a constant checking for which protagonist in what circumstance. It is a hard book to follow – and I have read reviews that have misunderstood information. The directness of the accounts does add to the reader’s sense of the overall contingent nature of the war, but that’s not necessarily the characteristic that one wants to emphasize. Periodization, structure and organization are problematic.

Even with these shortcomings, the heroism of the young men shines through.

Read in tandem, both works remind us that much remains to be learned about World War II. They also make clear that personal accounts and personal stories are a poor vehicle for historical argument or a broader understanding. Tolstoy’s famous description of the Battle of Borodino in War and Peace , a senseless slaughter carried out in fog and smoke, turns the horror of war into something transcendent. First hand accounts of lives lost and ruined are not art but their accuracy drives home a deep sense of tragedy.

October 8, 2012 Reviews

Deep In The Heart Of . . . . What?

The argument in Gail Collins‘ new book, As Texas Goes . . . How The Lone Star State Hijacked The American Agenda , is neatly captured in the Appendix. Collins reprints a biannual report by the Legislative Study Group of the Texas House of Representatives. Titled “Texas on the Brink,” the report in Harper’s Index style tabulates Texas’s ranking on a host of state by state measures. Key indicators include:

  • Texas in 2nd highest in the US in terms of public school enrollment, 38th on expenditures per student, and 50th in terms of percent of the population 25 or older with a high school diploma.
  • Texas is ranked 43rd in terms of graduation rate.
  • Among all 50 states, Texas is number one in terms of percentage of uninsured children (highest), percent of population uninsured (highest), amount of emissions of carbon dioxide, volatile organic compounds, toxic chemicals released into water, and hazard waste generated.

In fact, a ton is wrong with Texas.

Collins, in her acerbic but jokey style, eviscerates the Texas miracle in this book. She pokes holes in Texas myths, Texas decision-making, Texas culture and Texas politics. It all has a sharp tone, which can grate, but her points are difficult to refute. The Lone Star State is driven by cultural myths that simply do not align with geographic, demographic, economic, or political reality. The state is a mess and doesn’t even know it.

The kicker is Texas’s over-size impact on what happens to the rest of the United States. Blame it on leadership, the Texas committee that recommends textbooks for children,  or the durability of the cowboy and Wild West – Texas generates strong feelings in a way that Ohio cannot. And this would not interest Collins, save for the eerily power of Texas in defining America.

Reading Collins is a bit like sour candy. Tangy, tasty, and liable to leaving you feeling a tad ill if you have too much. Even though she’s funny and right, As Texas Goes  is a bit much for one sitting.

 

September 21, 2012 American Culture Today, Curiouser and Curiouser, Reviews

How’s a Flaneur To Get Around Today?

Taras Grescoe is a travel writer and flaneur for the 21st century. A Canadian-born global citizen, Grescoe has authored five books of non-fiction:  Sacre Blues, an unsentimental study of Quebec; End of Elsewhere, a tale of his journey from one end of the planet to another; Devil’s Picnic, Grescoe pushing the limits of fun all around the world, Bottom Feeder, a query into whether or not one can eat seafood ethically, and most recently, Straphanger. Grescoe is an engaging writer whose curiosity and excitement carry his ideas and prose. It is clear that Grescoe greatly enjoys traveling and writing. It is easy to imagine coming across him at a restaurant or train station and having a very interesting conversation.

Straphanger is a study of mass transportation systems and their cities. An avowed user of public transportation, Grescoe avoids cars whenever he can. Grescoe is also an urbanite, drawn to the juxtapositions of dense city living. His book is a first-hand journey to twelve cities – New York, Los Angeles, Phoenix, Paris, Copenhagen, Moscow, Tokyo, Bogota, Portland, Oregon, Vancouver, Philadelphia and Montreal – through the lens of the cities’ mass transit. History, politics, economics and urban studies are sprinkled lightly into the mix, as are interviews and chance encounters.

The subtitle, “Saving Our Cities and Ourselves from the Automobile,” addresses a recurring theme. Grescoe aims to give a compelling account of better ways to live and to get around. Here he is less successful, but not for want of trying. The book is helpful and informative, but far from authoritative or even particularly insightful. Grescoe’s argument is grounded in the excitement and expertise of a well-read tourist.

Hovering around the narrative are harder to answer questions. Was it particular conflations of leadership and opportunity that led to the development of certain cities and certain systems? Or are there lessons and models to consider? Compounding the queries is Grescoe’s approach itself. He’s an unencumbered man about to become a father. His responsibilities, as they are, consist of journeying to interesting cities, riding their mass transit systems and asking a few folks along the way some questions. Of course he doesn’t have to drive – and one wonders if he ever really grasps the day-to-day of the workers in the cities he describes. Accessing a bus or subway to get to an interview is one thing; to use mass transportation to try to juggle work and child care is another.

I, like Grescoe, feel at home in cities. I welcome density and the stimulation that comes from urban environments. I also readily acknowledge the multitude of costs that accompany driving an automobile on a regular basis. But I don’t believe that any of the above would make for supporters of public transportation. That assertion has to based on something harder, more universal, and much more practical. And that argument requires one to sit down, take root, and really learn about a city.

 

September 16, 2012 Reviews, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

Pussy Riot and Brittni Colleps – women in trouble/troubling women

A week ago Friday in Moscow, Russia, three women in their 20s were convicted of “hooliganism” and sentenced to two years in a penal colony. The all-girl members of the impromptu punk band “Pussy Riot” received world-wide attention after being arrested for an anti-Putin performance on the steps of an Orthodox church. Pussy Riot’s supposed primary victim, the Russian Orthodox Church, approved the prosecution of the women but asked the state for leniency. The female sentencing judge ignored the plea, calling the women a danger to society.

On the other side of the world in Fort Worth, Texas, another young woman was found guilty Friday of a serious crime. Brittni Nicole Colleps, a married 28-year-old mother of three and former high school English teacher, will be serving five years in jail for having “improper relationships” with five of her former students. She had sex with some of her students. Colleps’ defense did not contest that sexual activity took place between the teacher and the young men. Instead, her attorneys argued that the students, each of whom was 18 or older at the time of the encounters, were willing participants. Ms. Colleps’ sexual partners tried to keep their activity quiet because they “didn’t want her to get in trouble.” Discretion was unavoidable as Texas prosecutors never even considered a plea bargain. They wanted a jury to serve as “the moral conscience of the community.”

Brittni Colleps should not be teaching. Pussy Riot – now often called a punk art collective – are not good musicians. The consistency in jail time and the inconsistency in responses to those sentences is telling.

Pussy Riot’s ordeal has been a world-wide cause célèbre, with civil rights organizations, politicians and pop stars rising to the band’s defense. The paper of record, The New York Times, considered Pussy Riot’s sentencing front-page news. Those that support the prosecution assert that the women committed a premeditated crime against the church and Russian morality. The state, championing this view, has pursued justice by aligned itself every more closely with the Russian national church. Those who oppose the trial and conviction see it as a case of free speech being muzzled. Pussy Riot are media darlings, even in the tabloids.

Ms. Colleps ordeal is also a global media event with salacious details feeding the frenzy. She had sex with multiple men and one escapade was captured on a cell phone. The video was shown to her jury, adding to the scandal. The Texas prosecutors’ arguments are a defense of the community’s values. District Attorney Elizabeth Beach described Ms. Colleps’ actions as “completely disgusting.” Ms. Colleps’ lawyers, however, described the charges as an unconstitutional intrusion of the state into the sex lives of adults. The students, they argued, were of the age of consent. The jury convicted quickly. Ms. Colleps’ sexual behavior is her crime. Do not expect, however, for Amnesty International or Human Rights Watch to rush to Brittni Colleps’ aid. They and other organizations have been mute, as has the non-tabloid press. The New York Times has published nothing about her.

It is relatively easy for Americans to scoff at Russia’s ham-handed attempts at controlling speech and behavior. The female punk band, whose members look like and act like rebels, fit a recognizable stereotype. Further, Pussy Riot needed to be convicted in order to fulfill that role. Any number of musicians – female or not – can perform protest songs and never be noticed. After all, most musical protests are harmless. Pussy Riot’s conviction affirms a convenient way of understanding human rights, that freedoms are hard to come by outside of our shores. We are able to judge from afar while affirming our own sense of righteousness.

On the other hand, Colleps will gather little sympathy, even though the proportionality of crime to punishment may strike many as dubious. Her sin is more serious than breaking a law that was passed to protect children because her sexual behavior is incompatible with acceptable norms for teacher, mother and wife. In fact, Colleps’ transgression dishonored multiple communities – her home, her school, and, by proxy through her husband who is in the service, the military. Her sexual partners may have thought leniency proper, but framing that defense demands a radical re-casting of her sins into something different. “Free sexuality” does not carry the same currency as “free speech.” She will be punished severely.

Deeply held concerns about changing values and mores are more often than not played through our responses to the crimes of women and their perceived status as criminals. While the actions of Pussy Riot – playing music – and Brittni Colleps – having sex with adult men – may not in and of themselves be characterized as criminal, the context of their actions were judged to be dangerous to their communities. Pussy Riot’s music was a public affront to state and church; Brittni Colleps sexual behavior was an affront to community values for teachers. But in both situations, it is less about who has been put at risk and more about the political gains that are accrued from their prosecutions.

Pussy Riot helps to explain Russia – and it also helps to explain the way that many in the west rush to support a particular concept of free speech. Brittni Colleps can tell us a great deal about America’s concern about sexuality, public schools, and the fascination with the prurient. And both situations are extremely informative about the power of the prosecution to indict, convict and define.

August 29, 2012 American Culture Today, Curiouser and Curiouser

To Get an International Job Done

Amid partisan wrangling, international conflict, and the quantification of risk, is it possible today to do something grand on the international scale? A war, perhaps, but what about project with global implications? And can anything be done in the Middle East? To answer just that question I recently read Zachary Karabell’s Parting the Desert: The Creation of the Suez Canal.

Karabell is a twenty-first century Renaissance man. He is an economist and money manager, has overseen mutual funds, and has his own firm looking at economic and political trends. He is also a Harvard educated historian with extensive knowledge of global economic development and the author of several books. Most importantly, Karabell has the background, training and perspective to explain one of the most daunting construction projects of the nineteenth century: the building of the Suez Canal.

The waterway, which connects the Mediterranean and Red Seas, was a massive engineering feat when first completed in 1869. It did not, though, require all that much by way of innovation or cutting edge technology. What made the building of the Suez Canal such an extraordinary undertaking was the politics and the people involved. This is the focus on Karabell’s thoughtfully written study.

Many since the time of the Pharaohs recognized the value of connecting the two seas through canals. Ptolemy led one such project. The earlier efforts silted up, however, and it was not until Napoleon invaded Egypt that the idea gained traction. Numerous studies were undertaking, but none had a clear champion the vision, perseverance, connections and will to bring the idea forward. Until Ferdinand de Lesseps, a well-connected diplomat whose career derailed due to French politics in 1849, took up the cause.

Karabell patiently explains the conditions and leadership of Egypt at the time. He makes clear that while de Lesseps may take the hero’s role in the tale, Egypt’s Khedive, Sa’id Pasha, was essential in creating the political environment for the Canal’s success.  De Lesseps knew Sa’id Pasha as young man, and as Karabell regularly notes, de Lesseps multinational connections were invaluable. Not only did Egypt have to approve the Canal and provide the labor to dig the waterway, de Lesseps sought international funding of the company, as well as the support of France, England, the Ottoman Empire, and other European leaders.

Through incessant effort and skillful political management, de Lesseps increasingly engaged French government in the project. He parlayed cultural fascination with things Egyptian into support. Karabell has a firm understanding of French culture in the 1800s and regularly connects the colonial exoticism of Egypt with the domestic politics of France. The creation of the Canal basically came about through a France – Egypt partnership under de Lesseps driving vision. Opposed to the project, England may have benefited the most from the increased opportunities for world trade and maritime power.

Ultimately, as Karabell makes evident, the Suez Canal provided significant benefit at significant cost. One senses the author’s identification – with the key players in the story of the Suez Canal – and also with his admiration for the success of the project. It truly took an international vision with international expertise. And it would be an equally daunting task today.

August 19, 2012 Reviews

Sam Spade on ADHD – Mystery or Farce?

The blurb on Greg Palast’s latest book, Vultures’ Picnic, describes him as a cross between Sam Spades and Sherlock Holmes. Throw in Karl Kolchak of the Night Stalker and Inspector Clouseau and it’s a more accurate appraisal. Sporting a fedora in his head shots and incessantly veering off-topic, Palast may have serious investigative skills, but there well-hidden. The Vultures’ Picnic stands as one of the most frustrating books to cross my desk in while.

A vulture, Palast tells us, is a billionaire investor/financier who holds a nation hostage for its national resources. Palast’s book is a global kaleidoscope, through space and time, chasing down the relationships between global finance, multinationals and the exploitation of oil, gas and minerals. It is an extraordinarily important topic with consequences for how we think about economics, politics, the environment and energy policy. So why cannot Palast write about it?

Vultures’ Picnic is a mishmash of notes, anecdotes, assertions and asides. Palast is so in love with the image of what he’s trying to do that he never actually does it. He may have worked with top news organizations at one point but it’s clear why he is not now. The book would registered as such a disappointment had it not consistently referenced nuggets and germs of truly important ideas.

August 12, 2012 Reviews, Things someone who grew up in NJ might write

Tasty Neuroscience, With a Dollop of Evolution and Anthropology, Please

Brain science is cool and getting cooler. Scientists from different disciplines are collaborating, researching, wiring brains up and proposing ever more provocative insights into how we think, why we think, and how we ended up the way we are. The pace of discovery is increasing and there’s every expectation that it will continue to amaze.

Within that ever-changing environment of what is known, suggested and considered, John S. Allen has written a solid book, The Omnivorous Mind. Accessible but not simple, the work grounds contemporary neuroscience with an anthropological understanding of evolution and change. Food is an important and relevant fulcrum for observation and argumentation. Eating is fundamental, yet carries with it so much more than basic biology. Allen uses the centrality of food as a framework for his book and to engage the reader. All in all, he is surprisingly effective at balancing tone, topic and narrative. It’s a fun read and imparts a sense of wonder and curiosity.

The book’s fundamental question is how do humans “think” food. We know how to obtain food, we know how to cook and to eat. What do we think about it all? And why? The ultimate answer that Allen proposes, a theory or network of food akin to a theory of the mind, is somewhat problematic. But that doesn’t discount the value of the journey. Allen enlightens on many subjects, from chimpanzee sex to the brain’s limbic system. He does so clearly, with a light but firm touch. It is a pleasure to read.

Starting off with an extensive discussion of “crispy” – which is different from “crunchy” – Allen sketches out linguistic, cultural, historical and anthropological frameworks for analysis. Crispy, for example, often carries with it cooked (a good thing for many reasons) or fresh (another good thing). Working more from a biological perspective next, Allen offers a high-level review of what the human body needs to eat and how it has gone about obtaining it. The senses figure prominently in this equation and they are part of what makes us want to eat more and more, and not necessarily wisely. Food decisions, too, are grounded in experience and memory. In fact, food memories may be more important than other kinds of memories as triggers. These memories and meanings, woven together, establish a food-view something akin to a world-view.

What this means in real life is that we think of some birds as food as some as not. Further, this distinctions exists across cultures and is not necessarily related to caloric output or taste. Whether we realize it or not, all potential “foods” are understood within categories of what is or is not good or tasty. These categories are richer, too, than what we think of as good or bad food, which are freighted with personal and cultural meaning.  Eaten any insects lately? Allen weaves these themes together in a discussion of how foods evolve, from the creativity of opportunity to the brilliance of chefs. His narrative here works less effectively as strays farther from the underpinnings of the book.

In building his conclusion, Allen goes deep into neuroscience and the approach begs the questions as to whether he is more interested in brain or mind. They need not stand in opposition, but it is clear that any theory of the mind has a profound impact on our thinking about any other systems, real or proposed.

My takeaway was not dissimilar from a tasty meal that doesn’t fill me up – really good fun but more is needed. I am very much looking forward to more works by Mr. Allen and more studies that render neuroscience digestible for the rest of us.

August 12, 2012 Reviews