Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton: A review

Guerrilla gardening? Is that really a thing? Well, in this book it is. And maybe if it isn't it should be.

Guerrilla gardeners essentially invade land that is not being used and they plant things on it. Mostly vegetables. And then they distribute the produce from their plantings.

Moreover, these guerrilla gardeners steal things other than the use of land that doesn't belong to them:

"They took cuttings from suburban gardens, leaf litter out of public parks and manure from farmland. Mira had stolen scions from commercial apple orchards — budding whips of Braeburn and Royal Gala that she grafted to the stocks of sour crab-apple trees — and equipment out of unlocked garden sheds, though only, she insisted, in wealthy neighborhoods, and only those tools that did not seem to be in frequent use."

So this guerrilla gardening collective cultivates disused land wherever they can find it. It might be along road verges or motorway offramps, demolition sites, or junkyards. Any vacant space is a garden waiting to happen in their philosophy.

Birnam Wood is in New Zealand and we get to know its activities through three of its members: Mira, a 29-year-old trained horticulturist; Shelley, Mira's best friend who has a self-deprecating sense of humor and who is longing to leave the collective; and Tony, a trust-fund kid now a journalist who spent several years traveling and is looking for a big scoop.

At the center of the story is billionaire doomsteader Robert Lemoine who made his money manufacturing high-tech drones. He has plans to build an elaborate bunker into the ground on a tract of land he's purchasing. Birnam Wood and Lemoine collide when he catches Mira on his property scouting for land to cultivate.

And then a strange thing happens: Robert and Mira find that they like each other. They recognize in each other the "outlaw mentality" that doesn't believe that rules and boundaries apply to them. Robert proposes investing in Birnam Wood. He views it as an opportunity to provide cover for some of his less salubrious activities. But will the collective hold its nose and get into bed with the billionaire drone-maker?

I liked the Birnam Wood collective quite a lot. I sympathized with their gardening activities. The author Eleanor Catton is either a gardener herself or she did some extensive and effective research to be able to get inside the head of gardeners and understand how they think. Her novel was an extremely pleasurable read for me. I will look forward to seeing what she gives us in the future.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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