In Defense of Food

In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto
© 2009 Michael Pollan
256 pages

Michael Pollan’s seminal work, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, established that there’s no such thing as a free, or even a cheap, lunch.  The low-cost processed foods that the American diet takes for granted exact their price in other ways. The abundance of food in the developed world has coincided, not accidentally, with a decline in its quality – – and so, curiously, while most of us can take the availability of food for granted, we can no longer take for granted that it is in fact food. Food has lost its meaning in the American mind, Pollan asserts here, and science and technology are to blame.

Pollan sees food as having fallen to the twofold assault of industrial agricultural and and ideological which he calls “nutritionism”, which reduces food to nothing more than a carrier of nutrients. In his view, this misses the forest for a few twigs on a tree and ignores relationships between different food in traditional diets and the interplay of nutrients and body chemistry. Further, he believes that industrial agriculture  creates not food, but products resembling food — and that nutritionism aids and abets this, creating a situation in which people are “overfed and undernourished”.

In Defense of Food presents a problem for me. On the one hand, there are significant ideas worthy of consideration in here — people do overly fixate on the value of one nutrient or another, industrial agriculture does sacrifice quality for quantity, and yes, the constant pattern of nutritional fixation does dovetail perfectly with relentless advertising-driven consumerism. Pollan’s “food rules” make sense, like “Don’t eat anything that doesn’t look like food”.  That is, if you want cheese, eat cheese — not puffs of god-knows-what covered in orange powder.

The great problem for me is the anti-scientific attitude that develops from his attack on “nutritionism”, an ideology which Pollan sees as being the spawn of scientists, journalists, and advertisers.  While scientists are just as human and potentially self-serving as anyone else, they attract the bulk of Pollan’s ire. He mocks the fact that a half-century of nutritional advice has seen Americans grow not healthier, but fatter — as if obesity and nutritional disorders were caused not by the popularity of fast food or a society dominated by cars, but by the fact that people followed the advice of a government study and got themselves fat by trying to stick to low-fat diets. A spirit of petty resentment pervades the book, as if Pollan is insulted that scientists would dare get their grubby lab gloves over his food. Those of us who are interested in science know all too well that the media does a horrible job at attempting scientific journalism, being irresponsible and ignorant of the subject —  leaving no room for nuance and pitching stories in such a way as to grab headlines. (PhD Comics did a GREAT comic on this.)  Pollan mentions the hype over resveratol, for instance, a compound found in many foods of the French diet which has been linked to health and longevity. While Pollan uses this as an example of nutritional fixation, I recently read an interview with the scientist whose work prompted the media frenzy (in Michio Kaku’s The Physics of the Future), and he was dismayed by the way the media failed to understand that the variable he was studying was only one factor of many.  Here it is Pollan, not the scientist, who is overemphasizing the work.

In Defense of Food may be worth considering if you are just starting to become conscious or mindful about the foods you eat, but given Pollan’s bias I can’t earnestly recommend it to you. Given the importance of food, I’m sure there are superior books out there on the subject.

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Teaser Tuesday (29 November)

Last Teaser of November...

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination.

(Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, J.K. Rowling. Time to re-read the series!)

Newton — a man so driven by the pursuit of truth that he once shoved a blunt needle between his eye and the socket bone to study ocular anatomy and, later in life, as Master of the Mint, meted out the harshest of punishments to counterfeiters, sending more than a hundred to the gallows — had no tolerance for false or incomplete reasoning. So he decided to set the record straight. This led him to introduce the bucket.

(The Fabric of the Cosmos, p. 26. Brian Greene.)

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Christmas Reading

Today the Christmas spirit finally found me. Usually we embrace immediately after Thanksgiving, but the weather has been unseasonably warm lately. Sunday brought with it grey skies and a constant drizzle, though, which is partially inconvenient (for someone who walks in the morning and evening), but wholly appropriate. Today as I left a book club discussion, I embraced the cold air with a spring in my step and Christmas tunes on my mind.  I went for a downtown stroll and visited the library, where — I thought — I’d pick up A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. I’m enormously fond of it. Someone checked it out before me, though, so happy reading to them.  Feeling inexplicably mirthful, I ran up the steps to the library’s upstairs and headed for the kids’ section, where I treated myself to two Harry Potter novels and…..Redwall, by Brian Jacques.  None of them have a thing to do with Christmas, but they fit my mood — one of whimsy, looking forward to experiencing more of the magical buzz I get around this time of the year.

I’m also in a mood for some serious reading, so I’m sticking my nose timidly into Brian Greene’s The Fabric of the Cosmos. If it is too much for me I will finish Galileo’s Finger, which I’ve not forgotten about.

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Timequake

Timequake
© 1997 Kurt Vonnegut
219 pages

Timequake may be the oddest novel I’ve ever read. Scratch that: it is the oddest novel I’ve ever read, but despite its utter lunacy I loved it anyway, because it is so much the product of its author. The tacit premise of Timequake is that in 2001, after billions of years of expansion, the universe hiccoughed, reversed its course to 1991, and then — decided to continue expanding after all. Every being on Earth was forced to live out the last ten years of their life exactly as they had before. When free will kicks in again, everything goes to hell.

Vonnegut never tells the story of those relived years in away one might expect in a conventional novel. There’s no setup; the Quake never happens within the plot. Instead, the reader is introduced to what happened by Vonnegut, and he continues to refer to it tangentially as he rambles merrily about whatever he likes, often using the consequence of the quake on those who lived through it to illustrate a point he’s in the middle of making. Chapter divisions are utterly arbitrary, and Vonnegut will often stop to to introduce a random through before returning to the subject of his musings, which range widely from nostalgic thoughts about his family to opinions on faith and human community. A favorite section for me describes Vonnegut’s labors to send some of his work to be edited. Rather than emailing or faxing it, he sends in a bundle of typewriter-produced pages and makes a jaunt downtown to fetch the appropriate stationary and postage, thoroughly enjoying his time out and about socializing with others. True, he could be efficient and use faxes or buy envelopes and stamps in bulk, but for Vonnegut that isn’t the point. He valued the experience of human interaction, and ends the passage by declaring, “Listen! We’re here on Earth to fart around. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Vonnegut is at times heartwarming and sometimes cynical, but he’s always present. Kilgore Trout, his alter-ego, makes frequent appearances and Vonnegut works Trout’s short stories — usually with a cynical point — into his own thoughts. Timequake is pure Vonnegut — “talking lazily back and forth, almost buzzing like honeybees” with the reader —  and I would recommend it on that basis. If it’s a proper story you want, and you’ve never read Vonnegut before, perhaps introducing yourself to him via Slaughterhouse-5 or Jailbird would be in order. If, however, Kurt Vonnegut’s personality and humor have already appealed to you in times past, Timequake will satisfy enormously. To quote his uncle Alex, “If this isn’t nice, what is?”

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A Light in the Window

A Light in the Window
© 1996 Jan Karon
446 pages

A few weeks ago I read At Home in Mitford,  a novel which offers a charming escape from the noise, pollution, and chaos of everyday life into a small town which progress has happily forgotten. In the village of Mitford, downtown is still alive and thriving with businesses. People begin their mornings by walking or driving to the main street cafe, where they see their neighbors. Groceries come not from factories and Wal-Mart, but from the Local — another main street establishment which gets its produce from local farms. There’s no great drama driving the book, only the reader’s enjoyment of ordinary people living their simple lives. The drama is mundane, yet compelling; the characters eccentric and lovable. They aren’t sexy spies or latern-jawed action heroes: they’re secretaries with tempers,  old ladies with history, and — at least in one case — a portly priest, the rector of the local Episcopal parish.

Father Tim is the center character of the Mitford series, and the first novel introduced him as a kind, wise, but lonely man who slowly found joy as he became the master of a dog, the guardian of a boy, and the neighbor of a fun-loving children’s author who moved next door. The neighbor, Cynthia, offers Tim a source of emotional intimacy he’s hard-up for, since in Mitford it is he that people confide in. Who counsels the counselor?  In A Light in the Window, author Jan Karon moves the focus from Mitford proper and tightens in on the growing relationship between Tim and his neighbor. There’s still drama to be had in town, of course, when the Main Street Grill is imperiled.

As said, the Mitford series is escapism: but for someone like me, such escapism is quite attractive. I delight in Mitford’s old-fashioned human-sized community, as well as the gentle classiness of its lead character — a man who is appalled at the idea of using something even so modern as a microwave oven. I can’t imagine walking down the street in Mitford and seeing everyone holding some gadget to their face and not noticing the world around them.

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The Crisis of Islam

The Crisis of Islam: Holy War and Unholy Terror
© 2001, 2003 Bernard Lewis
184 pages

Bernard Lewis’ What Went Wrong? examined the failure of modernity in the middle east, but did not address its role in the rise of terrorism. The Crisis of Islam complements it by focusing chiefly on the factors which have inspired violent political activity in both the mideast and against the West, activity which is typically referred to as terrorism. Lewis examines the context that the terrorists claim (Islam) and the history of western nations with the middle-eastern area.  The book reveals a myriad of factors at work, and although it isn’t quite as thorough as I would have liked, it covers a great deal more than most Americans know.

Lewis starts off with a history of Islam, pointing out that for a number of centuries Islam’s political empire constituted perhaps the high point of civilization on Earth. He points out the historic lack of distinction between  religion and the state in Islamic society, which is helpful for western, especially American, audiences who are used to the idea of church and state being separate and often conflicting entities. His conception of jihad seems conservative, used entirely to describe war against nonbelievers. Other sources refer to such a war as the ‘lesser’ jihad, or struggle — the greater struggle being against our own weaknesses and unwise desires. He also uses the House of Islam vs. House of War dichotomy, which is something I’ve only seen mentioned by people who are intimidated or hostile by the mention of Islam.  The chapters on interaction between the west and the Islamic middle-east are far superior, especially in covering the tendency of strong western countries to meddle in local affairs following the Great War, when the Ottoman Empire’s breakup gave Britain and France a host of new quasi-colonies called ‘mandates’.  The story which emerges is of the middle-east as a failing area , one which produces impoverished and hostile young people who see modernity as having created that failure and who deeply resent the west for having created it, as well as constantly disrupting local politics at its convenience. On the latter count, at least, their grievances seem justified.  I only wish Lewis had focused on economics more: I confess to having been swayed by Albert Hourani’s notion that some of the anti-western hostility has the same source as labor agitation in the west’s own early industrial history.The industrialization process eventually produces an economic boon, but at a cost of environment and human welfare.

Recommended for most readers.

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Happy Thanksgiving from Kurt Vonnegut

After a day spent with family, I came home and began reading Timequake, by Kurt Vonnegut. How appropriate to read the following:

‎”My uncle Alex Vonnegut, a Harvard-educated life insurance salesman who lived at 5033 North Pennsylvania Street, taught me something very important. He said that when things were going really well we should be sure to NOTICE it.
He was talking about simple occasions, not great victories; maybe drinking lemonade on a hot afternoon in the shade, or smelling the aroma of a nearby bakery, or fishing and not caring if we catch anything or not, or hearing somebody all alone playing a piano really well in the house next door.
Uncle Alex urged me to say this out loud during such epiphanies: ‘If this isn’t nice, what is?'”

– Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake. p. 12

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Tuesday Fun

Teaser Tuesday!

“A.Darell” would just be the sort of thing that she would have to put on all her themes for her class in Composition and Rhetoric–so tasteless. All the other kids had to do it, too, except for Olynthus Dam, because the class laughed so when he did it the first time.

p.79, Second Foundation. Isaac Asimov.

Long before Pat’s death, he’d been profoundly unsteadied when she had slipped her hand into his and let her fingers run along his arm. At one point, she began winking at him during sermons, which distracted him to such a degree that he resumed his old habit of preaching over the heads of the congregation, literally. […] Now Pat, good soul, was cold in the grave, and Edith’s casserole was hot on his counter.

A Light in the Window, Jan Karon. Pages 11, 12.

The Broke and the Bookish want to know which ten authors we’d invite to Thanksgiving dinner. I tried to choose a group of people who would get along and enjoy themselves — I didn’t invite Marcus Aurelius, for instance, because I can’t imagine he’d enjoy such an affair.

1. Isaac Asimov (…who knows a bit of everything, is witty and charming, and enjoys wordplay.)
2. Kurt Vonnegut (who would hopefully announce, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”)
3. Carl Sagan (whom I would ask to bring an apple pie, baked from scratch.)
4. Brian Fagin (general historian who seems to have specialized the role of climate change in human history)
5. Mary Roach, who I recently heard interviewed: she is as fascinating and funny in person as she is as the author of Spook, Stiff, and other pop-science works.
6. David Sedaris (who, hopefully, would not go into an absurdly funny story just as I am taking a sip of my beverage..)
7. John Shelby Spong (who might help us keep things in perspective)
8. Tenzin Gyatsao (because I want to see that beaming smile just once in person)

9. Bernard Cornwell (author of historical fiction whose interviews I delight in watching)
10.Richard Dawkins or Neil deGrasse Tyson, because I’m a science mood lately.  
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This Week at the Library (16 November)

It’s been a slow week for reading, at least from the library. Unable to pursue my library reads, I re-read Prelude to Foundation and began re-reading Forward the Foundation. Otherwise, so little has been catching fire lately that after reading The Greater Journey by David McCullough, I returned my books to the library and spent a couple of leisurely hours sitting and strolling in various aisles, hoping to find something that would. I think I did, but first, a minireview…

©  2011 David McCullough 
558 pages

David McCullough is a popular name among American historians, known most for his 1776 and a large biography of John Adams.  The Greater Journey is somewhat less focused, but is essentially a history of Paris (1830-1900) as seen through the eyes of American visitors, most of whom were visiting professionally. For the majority of these Americans — whose numbers include famous names like Samuel Morse and Fenimore Cooper — the journey to Paris was their first trip outside the United States, and the novelty of being a ‘foreigner’ made their experiences all the more vividly memorable.  Through them we experience Paris as it was in the late 19th century, beginning in the Bourbon Restoration era but enduring decades of political change — a Second Republic, a Second Empire, and a Third Republic, in addition to war with Germany and several protracted sieges. The Americans featured here are professionals of one kind or another — physicians,   architects, writers — but the artists dominate the work outside of the space devoted to political change. The range of years allows the reader to experience the tremendous change of those years, as the globe shrinks underneath telegraph cables and steam engine tunnels.  Given my interest in France and this period, I certainly enjoyed the book for the most part, although all the art history overwhelmed me. The photographs and prints of artwork included are stunning.

This week…

  • Plan and Simple: A Woman’s Journey to the Amish, Sue Bender. I am at the same time intrigued by the Amish devotion to simple living and revulsed by their cultish atmosphere and suppression of individuality with practices like shunning. Sue Bender is an artist who shares my objection to forced conformity, but felt herself mesmerized by Amish art and decided to spend a summer living with them.
  • The Crisis of Islam: Holy War and Unholy Terror, Bernard Lewis. I read Lewis’ What Went Wrong? concerning the effects of modernization in the middle east and the ongoing hostile reaction to it during the summer, and have been meaning to sample more of Lewis.
  • A Light in the Window, Jan Karon; the second in the Mitford series..
  • Vagabond, Bernard Cornwell. Alas, my library doesn’t appear to have Sharpe’s Skirmish, and I’ve been mulling over whether or not to pursue in the series or attempt to acquire the novel first. 

I was really in the mood for something WW2-related, specifically a novel — but I didn’t feel like getting into James Jones’ From Here to Eternity, and the loud colors and huge rendering of W.E.B. Griffin’s name on his  several rows of books left me with the impression that they were meant as cheap thrillers.

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The Astral

The Astral
© 2011 Kate Christensen
311 pages

Harry Quirk is a sixty-ish poet whose entire world is changing. In only an afternoon, he has lost a year’s worth of work, his home, and his wife: after discovering that his latest project involved a collection of romantic sonnets addressed to a panel of women other than herself,  Harry’s wife Luz destroyed it and tossed him out on the street. The poet is something of a dinosaur even in his chosen profession, but he is reluctant to depend on the charity of his daughter Carina. All Harry really wants to do is go home, but he can’t — for the distance between himself and his wife is greater than a simple misunderstanding.  Despite dominating his life for twenty years, his marriage seems to be over, and he must learn to live by and for himself.

Thus begins a fascinating novel with a dominating theme of dependency in relationships, told by a character who is at once sympathetic. Helpless to understand at first, he grows in strength throughout the novel. It helps that Harry isn’t allowed to focus entirely on himself: his son is being sucked into a cult even as his marriage is lying in ruins. I appreciated that Christensen didn’t give a novel like this a conventional ending, but left the door open — Harry and his friends and neighbors are left with room to grow long after the book is done. Strong characters and a fascinating theme made The Astral a highlight of my reading two weeks ago.

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