Bringing Wine Home

Bringing Wine Home Jesse Frost 79pp.

Jesse Frost’s autobiography, Bringing Wine Home is the story of one man’s love affair with real food. The book switches between three periods in Jesse’s life: his time visiting organic wineries in France, his work in a kitchen in New York, and his first experiences working on a farm in Kentucky. Bringing Wine Home is the first volume in Frost’s autobiography, covering in detail the years leading up to his decision to operate his own farm producing food for his own community.

Frost’s prose is carefully crafted, pulling the reader along with an enthusiastic let’s go throughout the whole volume. The passages in New York City sometimes feel aimless, but this was intentional. Frost had not yet found his passion and was going through the motions of supporting himself and making a living with no joie de vivre in the experience. From the moment he steps foot on Vouette et Sourbée; however, Frost finds himself sucked into the world where he belongs-working with the land and creating real food.

My first thoughts on reading Bringing Wine Home was to compare it to Merton’s Seven Storey Mountain or St. Augustine’s Confessions, and on further reflection, this comparison holds up well. In all three of these autobiographies, we follow the writer’s progression from a past into their new life, which they lead with an unshakeable enthusiasm. It may be going a little far to liken Frost’s love affair with real food to the religious fervor of Augustine and Merton, but I feel the comparison holds up. If growing and providing real food to people you meet face-to-face and know is not a religious experience to Frost, it is deceptively close. After finding this comparison between these books, I was pleased to note that Frost does not indulge in the self-flagellation which dominates the early stages of Merton and Augustine’s books. He is willing to call himself out on his shortcomings, but does not wallow in them in the way that Augustine and Merton do.

Bringing Wine Home was a very enjoyable evening for me, and the joy in reading this book was complemented nicely with dining on Mrs. Cheddar and my CSA provided from Frost’s farm. It was truly a pleasure to read the beginnings of the life of the people who put the food on our table. I tremendously look forward to the release of further volumes of Frost’s autobiography.

Would I recommend Bringing Wine Home? Yes.

Score: 4.5/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway

The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway Jennifer L. Knox 83 pp.

Jennifer L. Knox’s The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway is a deliciously strange collection of verse. In a slim volume, Knox presents an enjoyably twisted view of the world around her, filtered through the strange perceptions of mashed-up imagery.

Knox’s poems are each unusual, little twists designed to shake the enjoyer of poetry out of their expectations. In tightly worded verse, Knox takes an image, typically domestic and comfortable, and gives it a rorschach splattering of surrealism. From the devious crocodile mother coming to claim her “lost” child to her intimate description of the villains in an old silent movie-nothing in Knox’s work is conventional.

This conscious break from the comfort zone of much poetry is, of course, symptomatic of modern poetry, but Knox acknowledges this in my favorite poem of the book, “Modern Poetry.” In general terms, “Modern Poetry” is a typical piece from this collection. Knox brings her charmingly unreal imagery to the table, with lines like “In the bottom left corner: a clown-/his red nose, a sudden start, or/ stoplight. Only his comic prosthesis/ is clear” Form wise, she deviates from her typical mode of prose poems or long stanzas into short, choppy couplets. In a very nice touch, she tacks on a list of “Questions for Discussion” at the end of the poem. In these questions Knox’s surrealism surfaces again, wrapped in her cutting sense of humor.

“If you were standing in this poem, would you be wearing a T-shirt or a parka?” (T-shirt, definitely)

The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway’s strongest poem is the long prose piece “Cars.” In lengthy paragraphs of sparkling prose, Knox follows the adventures of an unnamed narrator through the wild spaces of the road. Each of these verse hinge on yet another bad event taking place in the next of a long series of bad cars. At the same time, Knox works the cars in two directions. On the one hand, the cars function as liberation, freeing the narrator to traverse wide spaces physically and mentally. But for this person, cars seem to be a serpent’s tongue, drawing her inexorably towards destruction. From the early paragraphs where the threat is simply the unintentional slaughter of a deer, to the later sections, clipping the door off a van of girl scouts, Knox’s narrator just cannot run into good luck with cars.

I greatly enjoyed The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway-Knox’s poetry was weird and inventive, each poem surprising me with an unexpected image and a pervasive sense of humor. After finishing this volume, I am eagerly looking forward to reading more of her work in the library.

Would I recommend The Mystery of the Hidden Driveway? Yes

Score: 4.3/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

1Q84

1Q84 Haruki Murakami 925 pp.

Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84 is a masterpiece. There, the review is over. It is a perfect book. Stop reading this review and go read 1Q84.

Would I recommend 1Q84? Yes, without any hesitation.

Score: 5/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

You’re still here?

In that case, I’ll actually talk about the book. On its surface, 1Q84 is a novel about Tengo, a writer commissioned to ghostwrite a young girl’s mysterious novel, Air Chrysalis; and Aomame, a physical trainer who murders abusive husbands in a manner so subtle it comes across as simply a heart attack. This, however, only describes the book in the grossest possible sense. 1Q84 is a tour de force of magical realism, as Murakami brings Tengo and Aomame closer and closer together with an achingly slow pace, small shifts begin to occur in the world, twisting the rules and conventions we bring to understanding reality.

Air Chrysalis functions in the novel as a guidebook, hinting at and demonstrating much of the shifts which take place in Tengo and Aomame’s lives. Towards the end of 1Q84, a certain element of metatextuality begins to shape the reader’s understanding of the novel. You start to find yourself wondering how dissimilar it is to read 1Q84 in our unquestionably real world from the fictional characters reading Air Chrysalis inside of the novel. Murakami explores the notion of two worlds existing side-by-side throughout the story, exemplified by the two moons hanging in the sky over the characters’ heads. After reading this novel, one would find it difficult not to step outside on a clear night and stare at the sky, ensuring that the number of moons has not changed.

I tremendously enjoyed Murakami’s feminism in the gender dynamic between Tengo and Aomame. Through the course of the novel, Tengo’s role tends to be slightly more passive, he is largely acted upon by the other characters, achieving his own agency in two ways-first by giving birth to the finished Air Chrysalis, and second by coming to terms with the emotional relationship between his father and himself. By contrast, Aomame’s agency works primarily through acting upon other people, pursuing her sexual desires and shaping the course of events around her. It would have been all to easy for Murakami to compose this story with the gender roles more common in fiction, but it was with tremendous pleasure that I found Aomame to be not only a “strong” female lead, but a fully developed and interesting character in her own right.

I will be honest, I have only scratched the surface of this book, but that is in no small way because I don’t believe I can do it justice in this format. At some point in the future, I will put together an essay delving into some of the finer points in this novel, but a short review is not the right place to really get into this gem of a novel. I’ll close this review in the same way I opened it. Go read 1Q84.

-Mr. Cheddar

Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages

Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them 42 pp. and Quidditch Through the Ages 56 pp. J.K. Rowling

J.K. Rowling’s Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages are an immensely enjoyable post-script to the Harry Potter series. While they have little effect on the plot of the books, I tremendously enjoyed Rowling’s choice to compose and publish them. 

Magical Beasts gives the reader a view of the species which populate the world she created outside of the steady dribble of plot-relavant information needed in each of the books. It is a simple bestiary, giving tidy descriptions of the magical beasts living on the outskirts of the wizarding world. Rowling does not let up from her strong writing which dominated the series proper. Each description fills out the species in question, giving us a sense of what a wizard would know if they were to meet such a creature in the woods or mountains outside of their normal lives.

Quidditch Through the Ages delivers exactly what it says on the cover, a history and explanation of the game of Quidditch. In this book the history of Quidditch by itself is perhaps the less interesting point of the text. One could read it as simply a study of the development of the game so universally admired in the wizarding world, but there is a stronger element there. As we study and learn about the development of wizarding past-times, Rowling gives the reader a much better sense of the changes in wizarding society as history has maintained its steady march through and around them. By the end of the book, simply having watched the wizards retreat into hiding and focus their efforts on maintaining secrecy, the reader has a much deeper understanding of the pervading atmosphere of secrecy which so dominates the Harry Potter series.

The presence of these two volumes as world-building devices leads me to comment on some of Rowling’s world-building throughout the Harry Potter series. In books five, six, and seven Rowling devotes an entire chapter to painting a picture of the magical world’s dealings with Voldemort’s evil outside of Harry’s life. These chapters were richly rewarding on two levels. First they set the tone for the rest of each book perfectly, especially the chapter with the Prime Minister in The Half-Blood Prince. In that chapter especially, the pervading mist which so unnerves the Prime Minister forces the reader into a state of unease, longing for the warm comfort of the earlier books.

Would I recommend Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages? On their own, no, but in the context of the whole series? Certainly yes.

Score: 3.9/5

Would I keep these on my bookshelf? Yes

-Mr. Cheddar

The Tales of Beedle the Bard

The Tales of Beedle the Bard J.K. Rowling 111 pp.

J.K. Rowling’s The Tales of Beedle the Bard is a neat little children’s book written to accompany the larger Harry Potter series. While it is easy to focus on this book as simply an add-on to the series, an hour-long read to give the Harry Potter fan a last taste of the world they loved so much, there is much more here. Despite its appearance as a simple addition to the series, it is clear that Rowling was actively engaged in producing more stories in the world she has so lovingly created for her readers.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard collects five fairy tales, purportedly told by wizards to wizards. Much like Quidditch through the Ages, it gives an account of the values instilled in wizards from a young age. Dumbledore’s commentary on the text draws out these values, placing these stories not only in their context in the wizarding world, but giving us a sense of how people have read and responded to these stories throughout wizarding history.

These stories are each intriguing in their own way, though the theme of an over-reliance on magic is developed strongly through the entire book. In The Tale of the Three Brothers, the brash approach of using magic to artificially extend one’s life quickly brings demise to two eldest brothers, the very emblems of hubris. The Fountain of Fair Fortune portrays this moral somewhat more neatly, the four protagonists seek a magical fountain which will remedy all their problems, easing them into the neat life. In the end, however, the magic was inside them all along, and their own mundane actions with each other solved their problems.

Rowling’s writing comes back again in force, treating the fan of the series to another installment of magical adventure and wonder. To say nothing of the book’s own value, in the same vein as Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and Quidditch Through the Ages, Rowling uses her tremendous popularity and devoted fanbase to generate a large sum of money for charity, with much of the proceeds from the publication of this book going to support children in the United Kingdom. Good feelings aside, The Tales of Beedle the Bard is an enjoyable slim volume of light reading.

Would I recommend The Tales of Beedle the Bard? Yes

Score: 3.7/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

The Vanishing Hitchhiker

The Vanishing Hitchhiker Jan Brunvand 208pp.

Jan Brunvand's lively book, The Vanishing Hitchhiker is an intriguing overview of American folklore and superstition. Brunvand arranges his book around iconic American bits of folklore, the cement-filled car and the eponymous vanishing hitchhiker stand out as particularly worthwhile examples. The most interesting aspect of The Vanishing Hitchhiker is following the development of these stories as Brunvand gives us a wide variety of tellings from around the country and in different times.

The Vanishing Hitchhiker is wonderfully written, Brunvand works magic on two fronts. In the first, his own prose, framing the narratives he tells to the reader is polished and well-written. Beyond that, his careful re-creations of the folk legends he focuses on are entertaining and intriguing. Brunvand’s commentary, while frequently kept to the background of the writing, is incisive. While focusing on the stories as interesting objects of study in their own right,  The Vanishing Hitchhiker works the social conditions which led to the creation of these stories into the text.

This focus on social conditions is the highlight of the book, Brunvand’s interest in the people who tell these stories, these are paramount in the text. At the end of the book there is an introductory essay to using the stories people tell to gain an understanding of the people who tell them. This displays Brunvand’s work with narrative wonderfully. Much like in The Study of American Folklore, Brunvand’s focus on narrative is intriguing. (Also like The Study of American Folklore, Brunvand’s dismissal of belief is somewhat off-putting.)

Reading The Vanishing Hitchhiker was a treat, it is a smooth, enjoyable book, driving down a winding road of stories developed largely over the automobile age. In the presentation of the stories, the enjoyment of watching a story develop over time and respond to different cultural trends and fears of new threats, real or perceived, is tremendously worthwhile. There is an undercurrent of stories, just outside of the mainstream which Brunvand happily presents, tracing their course through the path unbeaten, the side roads, and the endless homogeneity of suburbia.

Would I recommend The Vanishing Hitchhiker? Yes.

Score 4.1/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

Company of Pilgrims

Company of Pilgrims James A. Gittings 79pp.

James Gittings’ Company of Pilgrims is a tidy collection of poetry produced in celebration for the bicentennial of the Presbyterian Church. Gittings’ writes from a very rural viewpoint, unapologetically working his own personal history and sense of place into the text. Company of Pilgrims is primarily a collection of poetry, but it is social history as well. The focus shifts from the history of the Presbyterian church, to the Vietnam war, to the intentionally rustic life of Appalachia.

Gittings puts his strongest writing at the beginning of the book, in a long poem weaving the history of the Presbyterian Church with the spread of American settlers across the continent. Each section of the poem opens with a selection from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, lovingly reproduced in the original language. In addition, Gittings works his own life into the poem, carefully weaving memories into the history of the church.

In his poems, Gittings is clear-spoken to a fault. His work is sparsely dotted with metaphor and complex imagery, choosing instead to direct its focus on simple facts out of his life and the history of the Presbyterian church. There is an air in these poems, almost a longing to elevate the poet’s life into the realm of art. But this term is not precisely accurate. If Gittings wanted so desperately to bring his life up, his writing would have worked in equally elevated language. Instead, Gittings writes in plainspeak, no metaphorical or artistic tricks. It is this comfort which dominates the work, sliding Gittings’ poetry and life into a higher register than it seems at first.

I wanted to like Company of Pilgrims more than I did. The writing flows well, clearly the result of a well-honed poetic talent, but it seems to be missing some critical element. Gittings drive to portray his church and his life simply work to make the book come together in a carefully calculated way, but I found myself wanting more from it. Gittings’ plainspeak is well-wrought, but the book needs the elevation it lacks. The verse is well-crafted, just not quite worked out in the way that I desired.

Would I recommend Company of Pilgrims? No.

Score: 3.2/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? No, I won’t.

-Mr. Cheddar

Where the West Ends

Where the West Ends  Michael J. Totten 268 pp.

Michael J. Totten’s Where the West Ends is a collection of travel essays across the near east. Totten is clearly fascinated by the interplay of cultures on the border between the explicitly western European countries of continental Europe and the cultural sphere of Islam extended by the Ottoman empire. Specifically, Totten travels through three regions: Northern Iraq, the Balkans, and Georgia.

I was briefly put off by Totten’s emphasis on the otherness of the cultures in which he swas travelling, but quickly came around to appreciate his style. Yes, he does portray these cultures as alien to an American, but it quickly becomes apparent that he has subverted this in a meaningful way. Where the differences in culture are highlighted, it is not done so in order to set them aside as merely a strange group of countries on the fringe of “western” territory, but to emphasize the experience of an American traveller in a new land.

Totten’s charisma throughout the essays is infectious. His journeys are all by-the-seat-of-his-pants affairs, with a vague plan sketched out in advance which quickly falls to pieces in the face of new sights to see. Through these trips Totten is careful to maintain a lingering sense of danger in the back of the reader’s mind. This danger reaches its zenith in Georgia as Totten gallivants around the bleak, ruined countryside in the face of a Russian incursion. The Georgia essay did its work for Totten’s book as cultural study in a backhanded manner. Russia, not Georgia, is the focal point of this essay.

During Totten’s time in Georgia, the Russian army had pushed its way deep into Georgia, nearly cutting the country in half. The trembling emotions nearing apathy of the local population were particularly effective here. Reading this essay as an American, I felt a voice in my head asking, “If you know the Russian’s will come, why not make preparations to defend yourselves?” Totten answers this cleanly- the thought of Georgia fighting off the vastly superior Russian military is romanticism and nothing more. His portrayal of the Russian advance is carefully done- it happened, almost without resistance, and now that it has happened, it is the case. And that’s that. 

Lingering racial tensions form the core of the danger Totten focuses on in the first two sections of the book. In Iraq and Turkey, the Kurds are trustworthy and helpful, welcoming to the hapless American travelers. They are completely contrasted against the often hostile and officious Turks. In the Balkans, Totten is constantly nervous driving around in a car with Bosnian license plates outside of Bosnia. Lastly in Georgia, the overwhelming threat of the Russian army directly across the border pressures the locals with an air of lingering authority, despite the dissolution of the Soviet Union.

Where the West Ends was a very enjoyable book. After I got used to Totten’s writing, it was a very easy and enjoyable read. I enjoyed being taken along on a loosely planned adventure around the fringes of the west, narrowly avoiding danger and unfortunate run-ins with governments and local populations.

Would I recommend Where the West Ends? Yes.

Score: 3.9/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

Cold Mountain

Cold Mountain Han Shan (Burton Watson tr.) 118 pp.

Burton Watson’s translation of 100 of Han Shan’s poems is easily one of my favorite volumes of poetry. Han Shan luxuriates in sparse imagery about his life on a mountain peak. Mist and fog linger through the pages, drifting out around the reader as you flip through the pages, treated to poem after poem. In every page Han Shan’s home, the distant mountains of Tang Dynasty China wafts out to the reader.

Han Shan’s mountains, wrapped in white clouds and rendered far-away from the city feel like a predecessor to Thoreau’s Walden pond. Unlike Thoreau, however, there is little evidence that Han Shan exaggerated his seclusion; which only heightens the reader’s interest. The “dark forests, breathing endless mist,”that Han Shan takes us into are rich with symbolism. Han Shan’s symbolism is richly interwoven, calling heavily on a background of Chinese literature and culture. This vein is where Watson’s translation shines. Throughout the work, he frequently comments and explains the various references Han Shan makes in his poem, quoting out of older texts and opening the reader’s eyes to the wider scope of the poet’s tradition.

Watson’s translation is carefully arranged. Of the two-hundred some poems attributed to Han Shan, Watson has carefully arranged a closely related collection of poems. Cold Mountain is a book primarily about Han Shan’s experience out in the mountain alone, and Watson never diverges from this theme. I cannot comment on the specifics of the translation in terms of accuracy, but of the translations I have read, Watson’s is by far the most accessible to a new reader and enjoyable to return to as a fan of Han Shan.

Interestingly, despite his relative fame among American readers of Chinese poetry, Han Shan has never been widely read in China. Gary Snyder translated a much smaller selection of Han Shan’s poems into English in the 1950’s, and this translation was further popularized by Jack Kerouac’s book The Dharma Bums. So while Han Shan’s work is eminently enjoyable and worth reading, it is important to bear in mind that he is an outlier in the wider tradition of Chinese poetry. A hermit and recluse, not only in his life, but in his style.

The last poem in the selection ends the book on a somewhat lighthearted note. Han Shan says, in a voice dripping with irony, 

“Do you have the poems of Han Shan in your house?

They’re better for you than Sutra reading!

Write them out and paste them on a screen

where you can glance over them from time to time.”

Would I recommend Cold Mountain? Yes.

Score: 4.1/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

Gag Rule

Gag Rule Lewis Lapham 178 pp.

Lewis Lapham’s Gag Rule is a fiery essay about the collapse of American critical thought in the wake of September 11^th. Unceasing in its hard-edged commentary, Lapham’s tract is rich with characterization of the thoughtless acceptance of political rhetoric which dominated those years. Lapham’s prose is fiesty and smooth, whipped to a rhetorical froth and peppered with examples from the press and history. Every aspect of the book is carefully calculated to weigh the reader down in the heavy weight of the media’s blitz about the necessity of war.

Gag Rule makes a concerted effort in the middle of the essay to explore the history of the stifling of dissent in American politics. Beginning with the Sedition Act of 1798, which criminalized any speech or writing critical of the United States government, Lapham traces this history through the course of America’s military involvement around the world and at home. Midway through this section, in discussion about America’s war on communism, Lapham quotes Dean Acheson- later President Truman’s Secretary of Defense- neatly summing up the trend against which Lapham warns. He says that all political argument, all division among the population must stop, “at the water’s edge.”

As the rhetoric for military action against Syria steps up, Gag Rule is actively shaping my awareness of the news coverage. It is comforting to see a wide divergence from the groupthink which Lapham decried. In following the news coverage, I have seen a healthy showing of dissent against the call to war. One cannot help but feel the specter of Iraq hanging over another military campaign promising to rid a Middle-Eastern country of its weapons of mass destruction, and the news has not shied away from making this connection.

Would I recommend Gag Rule? Yes.

Score: 4.1/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Initially, I would have said “No,” but the repeated banging on the drums of war by a Nobel Peace Prize Laureate elected to end wars has reminded me of the value of a good book cautioning against jingoism. With that in mind, yes, I will keep Gag Rule.

-Mr. Cheddar

1984

1984 George Orwell 268 pp.

George Orwell's chilling novel 1984 stands across the years as a warning against the powers of an overly expanded government. It is easy to read this novel simply as a denouncement of the Stalinist regime in the Soviet Union, but its warning goes much further. Recent events, SOPA/PIPA and PRISM sound the same note as Big Brother in 1984, with only a difference of an octave or two.
The text itself is remarkable, Orwell's writing is smooth and efficient, doling out Winston's growing awareness of the system in which he is utterly trapped. Orwell's use of chess as a metaphor throughout the book is certainly one of the high points for me. Throughout the entire text, INGSOC has every individual locked in a position three steps from checkmate, allowing them to produce value for the party in a state of enthusiastic ignorance.
In terms of worldbuilding, 1984 is a triumph. While the social commentary Orwell makes through the role of INGSOC in the book is lingering and troubling, newspeak is an entirely different animal. Merely the slightest exploration of its purpose and effects is enough to trigger a quickened pulse and furrowed glare. Possibly one of my favorite chapters in the book is the essay tucked at the end of the novel, a thorough explanation of the principals and practice of newspeak.
Orwell's writing is a triumph, at one level the book is rife with large information dumps, mostly Winston reading from a book or plainly explaining things to the narrator. Were Orwell any less skillful of a writer, these sections would be tiresome and frustrating; fortunately, Orwell was a genius and these passages flow into the narrative, entrancing the reader in the details of Winston's society.
On the whole, 1984 is a novel no one should still be waiting to read. The social commentary is rich and perennially relevant. Even if 1984 were not a masterpiece of critical writing about the dangers of an all-encompassing authoritarian regime, Orwell's writing is masterful and enjoyable.

Would I recommend 1984? Yes.

Score: 4.7/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

The Study of American Folklore

The Study of American Folklore Jan Brunvand 640 pp.

Jan Brunvand’s  The Study of American Folklore is one of the best books to read as an introduction to the field. Over the course of the text, Brunvand divides the cultural life of the American people into a set of neatly contained categories. In each genre, there are a set of three effective components. First, an overview of the topic, second, a rich selection of examples plucked from the extant research, and third, a summary of the methods and general direction of that specific area of investigation.

The prose in Study is very effective, treating each of its subjects with an eager eye. Brunvand goes to great lengths to drive home the various systems of classification used in each genre of the discipline. These systems of classification nest nicely into the book as a whole, which is formatted as a breakdown of the entire folklore of the American people. In this division of folklore lies the book’s strongest point by far. Before looking into any area of folklore at depth, it would be ill-considered not to give at least a brief look through the chapter in Study to get a sense of the research present on the subject.

Brunvand’s book can be divided from the other introductory folklore book on this blog, The Dynamics of Folklore, in that it focuses less on how to think as a folklorist. Toelken’s text focuses heavily on first-person recollection of the process of doing folklore research, showing how one can begin to work in the discipline. Personally, I felt that aspect to be the weaker side of Toelken’s work. The Study of American Folklore succeeds by focusing less on a narrative of how folklore can be done and more on the results of research in the fields described.

If Study has a weakness, it is in the section on Folk belief. While Brunvand is happy to discuss all manner of superstition (e.g. dowsing, folk medicine, and lore about the changing seasons) and to distantly treat religion through myths and stories in earlier chapters; the only acknowledgement he gives to the folklore of religion is that occasionally groups split off from larger religious communities, forming insular communities which are rife with an unstated and unexplored folklore.

Setting aside this one flaw, Brunvand’s text is a phenomenal entry point for the aspiring folklorist. It would take a foolish effort of will to read these chapters and not find at least one area which would inspire you to further research. As a guidebook to the genre, especially from the point-of-view of the rank beginner, you would have a hard time finding a better book to read. 

Would I recommend The Study of American Folklore? Yes.

Score: 4.0/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Yes.

-Mr. Cheddar

The Tree

The Tree Colin Tudge 469 pp.

Colin Tudge’s The Tree is clearly the labor of one man’s love for the towering spires of wood which dominate the the skyline of much of the world. Tudge follows a system of taxonomy through the book tracing the development of trees from their primeval roots up to the modern day. His chapters are arranged in such a way as to give the reader a thorough understanding of the way trees work, and how they have adapted to thrive on almost every landmass around the world.

I’ll get a disclaimer out of the way early-I love trees too. At one point in my life I considered a career in botany, and this book was a welcome addition to my shelf. It would be difficult to read The Tree without feeling urges in exactly the same direction. 

If I had to pick a flaw in this book, a daunting task to be sure, it is that The Tree is magnificently painful if you don’t know anyone else who has read it. While Tudge does not slip into giving a classification system, allowing one to identify the trees native to your area, his writing neatly presents the larger relationships between groups of trees up the phylogenetic tree. Armed with such a knowledge, walking along a shaded pathway becomes an exercise in seeing the whole world.

The juniper in your front yard? By itself it provides shade, color, and a pleasant aroma. But after reading The Tree, you will be unable to help yourself from seeing the towering sequoias to whom it is so closely related. In the stunted, weather-beaten shrubs which line railroad tracks across the countryside, you will see the immensely ancient bristlecone pines of the Sierra Nevada. The joyous reverie of seeing these trees is not limited to their relations with other trees, after reading Tudge’s explanation of the methods and scale by which a towering spire of maple pulls water from the ground, sit underneath one sometime and just ponder the sheer volume of water moving past you.

In fact, go do that right now. Stop reading this review, pick up a good book, go sit under a tree, and read it. Even if that book is not The Tree, you won’t regret it.

Would I recommend The Tree? Yes, without the slightest hesitation.

Score: 4.8/5

Would I keep this on my bookshelf? Absolutely yes.

-Mr. Cheddar