"Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver (published 2007)

Reading the few first pages of “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by Barbara Kingsolver feels like a big bop on the head by the blunt end of reality. But, as the story goes on, the pain and then numbness slowly fade away and everything is back to normal. Soon, in admiration of the year long quest one family undertook to remain one-hundred percent conscious of humanity’s food chain, a surge of motivation will take over. Organic, cage-free, free-range, fair trade, seasonal, locally made, USDA approved – all these words are now on many labels you see at the grocery store, the local deli, the yoga studio, at restaurants… and many other places. Are these words so easily understood? Organic means one-hundred percent natural. But how exactly is something one-hundred percent natural? Kingsolver goes through the step-by-step process it takes to get there, for each of those labels. These are certainly labels that should be sought after, as is well-known, but “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” will help those who only have seen the movement, and not the original cause. How are pesticides a futile endeavor? Why is it that Americans are so used to eating whatever kind of food they want during any time of the year? What are the costs of this, not just monetarily, but psychologically, physically, environmentally? What does it mean to live in a society that is so far removed from their food sources? Kingsolver will brilliantly answer these questions and more, and will describe how beneficial and pleasurable living off of food made by your own hands really is. Her story is one about the determination to gather enough resources to be able live off of the land, and only their land or local land, with her husband Steven, and her two daughters Camille and Lily for one year. Off to the farm they went, driving from Arizona to Virginia. It wasn’t easy. But she did it, and reading this book will convince just about anyone that there is hope in improving your quality of life as well as apprietiation for it, by raising the animals you plan to eat, without missing the step of killing them, growing the vegetables and fruits you plan on eating, in whatever form that may take (a sauce, a pie, a soup). OK, so not everyone can do this. It’s way too idealistic. That’s the bop on the head slowly becoming a dull pain. However, as the pages unfold, Kingsolver’s voice is no longer one initially thought to have pretense. Other than writing subtle statements on how lucky she has been, born into a family concerned about nature and food, she also addresses the urban/rural problem that is more complex than ever at this particular conjuncture in United States history. Yes, she mentions plenty of depressing news about how farmers don’t make profits because of the exhaustion of food production (more, and all the time) and how most of the money goes to the big gas corporations (food does travel internationally and nationally, after all). But there is also a simpler, humbler lesson to be learned from this powerful narrative: no matter how small you need to start from what you already have, that will do. It will always do. That’s the *miracle* part of “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle”. (I’m personally proud of the seven tomatoes my fiancé and I grew on the tiny balcony of our condo. And of the forget-me-nots, and the snapdragon, and petunias that spilled over like vines…). Agriculture classes and more hands-on biology classes are now promoted for grade schools, particularly in cities (while many children in rural areas actually have their school schedules built *around* the farming seasons). Urban gardens are helping much, much more than most think. Whole Foods, and other stores dedicated to providing good produce are popping up everywhere, not to mention farmer’s markets. As the family traverses Italy, New England, Montreal, and Ohio, places rich with a history and culture where food is the forefront (unlike most places today – think of sports bars), it becomes clear what food can genuinely mean, besides a quick craving or a spontaneous feast without reason. It means work, it means thinking about life and death in its most primal form (cows are meant to be milked, chickens lay an seemingly exponential amount of eggs), it means sharing and helping, it means nature, and it means things indescribable and sentiments personal to everyone involved in the process. Barbara Kingsolver leads us on this remarkable journey with her. She doesn’t mince her politics. With her comprehensive food journal, her husband Steven’s fact-checking essays, and her daughter Camille’s anecdotes and beautiful recipes, this is a trustworthy book that may possibly affect some readers for the rest of their lives.