Each spring for a period of weeks the imperial gardens were filled with prize tulips (Turkish, Dutch, Iranian), all of them shown to their best advantage. Tulips whose petals had flexed too wide were held shut with fine threads hand-tied. Most of the bulbs had been grown in place, but these were supplemented by thousands of cut stems held in glass bottles; the scale of the display was further compounded by mirrors placed strategically around the garden. Each variety was marked with a label made from silver filigree. In place of every fourth flower a candle, its wick trimmed to tulip height, was set into the ground. Songbirds in gilded cages supplied the music, and hundreds of giant tortoises carrying candles on their backs lumbered through the gardens, further illuminating the display. [...] The whole scene was repeated every night for as long as the tulips were in bloom, for as long as Sultan Ahmed managed to cling to his throne.
-The Botany of Desire
A pretty scene, isn't it? (Well, I'm not sure if the giant tortoises would agree.) There's something so magical about a beauty that transcends time, something boiled down to the essentials of color, shape, and light. The beauty of a tulip bathed in the radiance of candles as opposed to that of, say, some shiny new high-tech device, however nice its contours or its color. Of course, I'm a former art history student, so I tend to get a bit excited over color and light.
I also get excited about books about food. The Botany of Desire is a little different than other food books I've read, because it mostly focuses on the development of plants; specifically, how they have evolved to fulfill certain human desires. Pollan looks at apples (sweetness), tulips (beauty), marijuana (intoxication), and potatoes (control). Each plant/desire leads him in a different direction, some of which I found more interesting than others.
We begin with the apple. How can you not? Adam and Eve, Johnny Appleseed—the apple is so woven into our mythology. Even so, I found this to be the driest section, although I did appreciate the look into the importance of biodiversity of the species (also addressed in the potato section).
Pollan then moves on to the tulip, with a look at the tulipomania that struck the Netherlands in the 17th century. Again, I didn't find this particularly compelling—but luckily things pick up once Pollan starts in on marijuana. He shares his own pot-growing high jinks, but also considers why/if the plant encourages intoxication.Throughout, Pollan speculates on plants developing in ways that would encourage people to grow them. With the discussion of marijuana, I thought this became more interesting, possibly because the idea of intoxication itself merits a lot of attention—thus scientists continuing to look into how marijuana works on the brain.
And then we came to the potato.
The toxin, which is produced by a bacterium that occurs naturally in the soil, is generally thought to be safe for humans, yet the Bt [Bacillus thuringiensis] in genetically modified crops is behaving a little differently from the ordinary Bt that farmers have been spraying on their crops for years. Instead of quickly breaking down in nature, as it usually does, genetically modified Bt toxin seems to be building up in the soil. This may be insignificant; we don't know. (We don't really know what Bt is doing in soil in the first place.) We also don't know what effect all this new Bt in the environment may have on the insects we don't want to kill, though there are reasons to be concerned. In laboratory experiments scientists have found that the pollen from Bt corn is lethal to monarch butterflies. Monarchs don't eat corn pollen, but they do eat, exclusively, the leaves of milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), a weed that is common in American cornfields. When monarch caterpillars eat milkweed leaves dusted with Bt corn pollen, they sicken and die. Will this happen in the field? And how serious will the problem be if it does? We don't know.
I can't lie, the potato was my favorite chapter. Pollan looks into the development of potatoes that are resistant to the potato bugs—not because of anything sprayed upon them, but because of their genetic makeup, as designed by chemical giant Monsanto. It's a fascinating, troubling look at the difficulties facing farmers today. Some of the issues addressed came up during the tail end of Food, Inc., when the topic turned to the burgeoning field of patents on particular varieties of corn—once again, designed by Monsanto. I certainly imagine you can't help but look at the potato differently after reading this chapter—I know I'll be thinking hard about where the next potato I buy comes from and what might be in it.
Overall, I didn't enjoy this one as much as In Defense of Food, but I still found it to be a worthwhile read. I'd also be interested in checking out the television documentary of the same name (currently streaming on Netflix!).
Up next: Good question! There must be something lying around....
