What’s It All About, Alfie?

I’ve been slow to post about my latest two reads. Mostly because they are non-fiction (again) and have to do with my children. They are potentially even self-help books. Who, me? Perish the thought.

The first book was Unconditional Parenting, by Alfie Kohn. I was in desperate need for some parenting advice. My eldest child was defying us at every turn and no disciplinary technique seemed to be working. (I know. Not MY child.) To make a long story short, I picked up this book.

Kohn’s book is the anti-behaviorist parenting book. He asks a fundamental question of what can we do to work with our children rather than doing to our children. He suggests moving away from rewards and punishments and moving to love and reason.

At first, I thought he belonged to the same school of thought as “Love and Logic”, but after talking to some other parents and doing a little research of my own, I realized he really did not belong in this camp. He is not a “there will be consequences for your actions” type of guy. In fact, he could come across as a real softie with his parenting approach.

However, a lot of things work in his favor. He backs up his argument with scientific studies which separates him from one those “Hey, it worked for me, so maybe it will work for you” authors that litter the how-to-parent literature landscape these days. He also strongly defies the conventional wisdom of parental discipline today, which is depressingly heavy on correcting and controlling children. He is not overly prescriptive with his solutions – he does not offer scripts or scenarios that I can never remember or apply at just the right moment, but instead gives overarching principles. Many of those principles resonated with me.

While I find it extremely difficult to pull off all of his suggestions all of the time, putting his practice in place for just a few weeks resulted in an immediate change of responses from our child. It is still too easy to fall back on a more dictating style of parenting, but I’m striving to be more respectful of my children and minimizing command and control, so it’s a start. Recommended. And he’s coming to a theatre near you:

The other self-help book was Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder, by Richard Louv. I picked up this book at Wordsmiths Books in Decatur on my way to the North Carolina mountains with my family. I thought it would be appropriate given the gorgeous natural landscape we’d be surrounded by for the next 8 days. I also wouldn’t have to feel guilty that my children would be experiencing any kind of nature-deficit for the next several days. Whew!

I have to say I’m inherently disposed to the argument Louv is making, which is: Being outside and in nature is an imperative for children. I was a child who spent a lot of time outside and my husband had a similar experience. Big backyards, lots of other neighborhood children outside, lots of opportunities to explore. Both of us have great memories of playing outdoors and my husband, at least, is very well-adjusted.

I would like to try to provide the same experience and environment for my children, but it hasn’t been easy. We don’t exactly live in paradise. Another challenge has been that one of my child’s “best friends” gets creeped out by the feel of grass under his bare feet. It has been nice to have this book provide support to the thinking that getting your child outside, in nature, is important of and by itself.

Taking a trick from Nitro Nicole, the pros/cons of the book are as follows:

(+)

• strong arguments for advantages to children spending time in nature
• easy examples of how to get your child in nature and involved in nature
• tries to overcome fear factor that has increasingly pervaded our culture and has had dampened enthusiasm for outside experiences
• made me scope out perfect tree for backyard fort

(-)

• -is he preaching to the choir?
• could be taken as another manifesto to make parents feel guilty about their child-rearing

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Yes, we have no bananas.

After talking about making a change in their lives for years, Barbara Kingsolver and her family moved from the desert of Tucson, Arizona to live and farm in rural southwest Virginia. In Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, Kingsolver tells the story of what it is like to live entirely off the land for one year, deriving all sustenance from the family farm. However, this isn’t just a down-home country tale, but a wake-up call along the lines of The Omnivore’s Dilemma about how we live as Americans in regard to our food.

The idea for the family move is to get closer to their food source, thereby becoming less dependent on industrial food and lowering their carbon footprint. Almost overnight, the family goes from a lifestyle where everything they need, water included, has to be shipped in from other places, to buying locally and, eventually, growing and raising everything they eat. They go from eating supermarket bananas, kiwis and cantaloupe whenever it strikes their fancy to a menu completely dependent on the locale and season.

The chapters follow the months of the year, and in each month, Kingsolver describes what kind of activity goes on at the farm. (You know the song: a time to plant, a time to reap.)They seek out varieties, fighting the loss of genetic diversity brought about by big farming, and plant 8 kinds of potatoes (um, we only have two kinds at my grocery store) and 14 types of tomatoes, for starters. They reap 350-plus pounds of tomatoes and infinite zucchini and harvest their cherry trees. They raise their own heirloom turkeys and chickens. They make their own cheese, can tomatoes, pickle cucumbers, and bake their own bread. Added bonus: They eat without the all the fun additives, such as the ubiquitous high fructose corn syrup in every bite.

We’re a nation with an eating disorder, and we know it. The multiple maladies caused by bad eating are taking a dire toll on our health—most tragically for our kids, who are predicted to be this country’s first generation to have a shorter life expectancy than their parents. That alone is a stunning enough fact to give us pause. So is a government policy that advised us to eat more fruit and vegetables, while doling out subsidies not to fruit and vegetable farmers, but to commodity crops destined to become soda pop and cheap burgers.

Okay, they aren’t totally perfect – they still drink coffee (fair-trade), bring in wheat flour from out-of-state, have a crate of oranges shipped in, and enjoy wine, their goal is to get the items they cannot grow or raise themselves from the most local source possible, whether it is from a neighboring farm, nearest organic wheat mill, or in the case of the oranges, a splurge from a few states away. This still beats burning fossil fuels to ship food clear across the globe.

While moving to a farm is completely out of the question for most of us (as bucolic as it sounds), let alone giving up bananas (best default kid snack ever), Kingsolver nudges us to think more of how we eat and what we eat. She urges a return of the family meal, making the kitchen a center once again for deliberate eating and discussion, with friends and family. She suggests a backyard garden — even container gardening, buying local, and going organic. Sounds good to me – in the end, the logic and rationale of this lifestyle choice make this an appealing read.

The Wild Trees

Who isn’t captivated by redwoods? The Wild Trees, by Richard Preston, will draw you in with its story about a few absolutely compelling characters who simultaneously set out to discover the world’s tallest trees in the redwood forests of Oregon and California. They are rewarded for their perseverance, passion and nerve, and so is the reader.

Unbeknownst to me, most redwood forests were virtually unexplored before the 1980s, except by loggers who were only interested in taking redwood forests down. The Redwood National Park was established in 1968 and it was declared to contain “the Mt. Everest of all Living Things”, the Tall Tree. However, there were no additional explorations or challenges to the claim of tallest tree until Steve Sillett, Marie Antoine, and Michael Taylor come along.

It all starts with a road trip. Steve Sillett and friends from Reed College drive down to Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park in 1987. Off the beaten path, Sillett proceeds to climb to the top of a redwood with his bare hands. Along the way, he finds all sorts of parasitic growth he cannot recognize, but pockets for further study. At the top, Sillett is amazed to find a huckleberry bush growing out of soil in the redwood canopy and feasts on huckleberries. The climb is a risky and dangerous endeavor, but results in a rich reward.

Sillett has discovered a new world. Ascension into redwoods was previously not done. With that one act, Sillett has come upon a “Vertical Eden” not previously known. When climbed, he finds that redwoods reveal an entire ecosystem at the top, including all sorts of previously undiscovered animals and plants. He perfects his climbing technique and he and his wife Marie, a lichen expert and tree climber, go on to further climb and explore the canopies of tall trees. Along the way, they measure and name some of the biggest and tallest trees in the world, including Screaming Titans, Lost Monarch, Kronos, Hyperion and many, many others.

The author does a great job depicting the attention, skill and technique required for climbing redwoods. The risk of falling is great and danger looms large, which builds up the suspense of the story. Also, the element of discovery – whether it is finding the biggest and tallest tree, or a new lichen or ant type, it all adds to the quality of the story being told.

The book even has a shout-out to Atlanta. No redwoods there, but gorgeous trees and Peter Jenkins. Jenkins is the arborist who founded Tree Climbers International in Candler Park. Jenkins teaches the author how to climb, so he can join Steve and Marie in the redwoods.

Added to my list of things to do? Visit redwoods and learn to climb tall trees. After you read this book, you’ll want to climb, too. A great book. Highly recommended.

Additional Links:

• Tree Climbing International
• Steven Sillett @ Humboldt U.
• Richard Preston redwood photo gallery

Fortress of Endlessness

Well, I finally finished the Fortress of Endlessness. UG. Like those before me, I went from not being able to put this book down to being downright angry about still having to read the 150+ pages left to go. The book could have easily ended when Dylan gets accepted to S., or even Camden, but perhaps that would have been too pat.

DJ Cayenne is on to something in that the third section of the book is not a “physical journey” — there is the time shift. In addition, Dylan has just made a movie pitch that has resonated with a producer – we can begin to see success coming his way; however, just like there is unfinished business with the movie pitch, there is some unfinished business of Dylan’s childhood he must resolve – in his head or otherwise.

The problems with the movie pitch paralleled my feelings about the book in general in that the best story was told in the first part of the pitch – the creation of the prison band is original and we can cheer on its success. However, by the time the movie’s protagonist comes back time and time again, coming up with a old new idea with each passing decade, the plot line grows ever so thin and tiresome and we question the protagonists, nay Dylan’s, purpose of reinvention and continuation, and beg for a stopping point. Sound familiar? After all, what’s the point?

Perhaps the book is posing a question of reinvention. Can you reinvent yourself? Can you ever completely escape your past? Obviously, Dylan has problems with this, especially from a childhood so vivid. His disappointment and disgust at being “yoked” is far more painful as an adult in that it puts him right back where he started. Clearly, Mingus does not escape the self-fulfilling prophesy of growing up black in the black ghetto (even though he may have had a chance). What about Dylan’s Dad? Does Dylan’s mom successfully reinvent herself after she leaves Brooklyn — how does she let go?

Perhaps, (and I’m reaching here) the author is trying to let us experience via readership what it is like to live first hand with the burdens of Dylan’s youth, but by the end, it was enough drug use/abuse already, enough sophomoric idealization of music (did I say that?), enough fantasy play via a comic hero (you got me there), and enough of the lack of female role models – perhaps that was the problem all along?

Huzzah Huzzah – on to a new read. But first, some much neglected knitting….

[Ed: You can read Dr J’s comments on this book, as well as the rest of the group’s previous discussion here.]