Product Description

Hang on for the ride: with characteristic poetry and pluck, Barbara Kingsolver and her family sweep readers along on their journey away from the industrial-food pipeline to a rural life in which they vow to buy only food raised in their own neighborhood, grow it themselves, or learn to live without it. Their good-humored search yields surprising discoveries about turkey sex life and overly zealous zucchini plants, en route to a food culture that's better for the neighborhood and also better on the table.

Part memoir, part journalistic investigation, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle makes a passionate case for putting the kitchen back at the center of family life, and diversified farms at the center of the American diet.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #415153 in Books
• Published on: 2007-04-19
• Format: Audiobook
• Original language: English
• Dimensions: .1 pounds
• Binding: Audio CD

Books in Canada
Barbara Kingsolver, her husband, Steven Hopp, and their two daughters, eight-year-old Lily and Camille, a student at Duke University, lived in Tucson, Arizona. They were in the midst of a prolonged drought. All the food they ate had to be imported by truck, rail , or plane. They were attached to their desert climate but were increasingly concerned about the global warming trend, and the evidence of that all around them. Steven owned a small farm in southern Appalachia, two thousand miles from Tucson, with a farmhouse, barn, orchards, and fields. The family was accustomed to spending their two months of school holidays there, and for years had spoken vaguely of moving. Now they were taking the momentous step, “the trip of our lives,” leaving Arizona with a firm commitment “to get our food from so close to home that we’d know the person who grew it.” Animal, Vegetable, Miracle is the story of their first year on the farm.
It is in large part a sermon, a call to arms for those who are concerned about the despoiling of our planet and are prepared to do something about it-namely to change their household economy to accommodate a new rule, “Save the Land.” Kingsolver avoids the preachiness that could so easily ruin the story by supplying generous helpings of wit, and by the satisfying way she has used all the members of her family as important actor-characters in the on-going narrative. She is, and has been for years, an accomplished novelist, and she well knows, in this new role as a proselytising evangelist, how to fashion her account so that it holds the reader’s interest. The book is liberally packed with facts and statistics, but they do not become overpoweringly tedious because the voice of the novelist is at all times deeply involved in the action and engagingly self-deprecating.
Also attractive are the voices of Camille, who writes short essays which, along with a fine selection of recipes and menus, close each chapter, and Steven, who writes scholarly commentary on many of the questions which arise from the text. Lily’s project, the raising of chickens from their beginning (as a mail-order delivery of a shoe-box full of cheeping balls of fluff), to the selling of their eggs, and, finally, to the introduction of a new generation, is treated as seriously as Lily herself is serious about her new tasks and responsibilities. It’s an account that is engrossing and endearing.
After devoting some months to renovating the farmhouse and making the land ready for the intense gardening that they intended to do, the family began to plant. The saga begins in the spring and the chapters that follow reflect the passage of months. “Waiting for Asparagus, Late March” starts them off, and chapter 20, “Time Begins”, is the finale with a dramatic description of the hatching of the eggs. It was the climax of Lily’s project: “Crazed and giddy, there in the dusty barn we held hands and danced. BABIES! That was all and that was enough. A nest full of little dingdongs and time begins once more.” Some months warrant several chapters: June has four, as the growth becomes more and more varied and generous. It is also in June that they get away for a ten-day driving holiday, as far north as Montreal. There they explore the city’s ethnic neighbourhoods and finally end happily at “the grand farmers’ market of Petite Italia,” where, on June 21, they find to their amazement all kinds of produce “in the recently frozen north”: asparagus, carrots, lettuce, rhubarb, hot-house tomatoes, and strawberries. Their holiday also includes a visit with small farmers Elsie and David in Ohio. They enjoy a day of helping prepare the food that they were about to eat with a friendly extended family. This is farming the way it ideally should be; this is the experience they worked to duplicate on their farm.
In September they have a real break from their own farm. They go on a trip to Italy, “their first real vacation without kids” since their honeymoon. Circling before landing, they come down over a field of black soil where an elderly farmer is ploughing with harnessed draft horses. “For reasons I didn’t really understand yet, I thought: I’ve come home.”
The following two weeks are an extended song of praise for Italian hospitality in general and cooking in particular. Steve has an Italian background: both his grandparents were born in Italy and this trip is a pilgrimage to their homeland, first to their birthplace in Abruzzi, then through the farmlands of Umbria and Tuscany, and finally by train to Venice. All along, Kingsolver describes their meals. Perhaps the most novel experience for a North American reader is the discovery of “Agritourismo”. It is similar to Bed and Breakfast accommodation, with the addition of lunch and dinner served informally at a long wooden table adjacent to the kitchen. The host family usually joins the guests and the fare is always home-cooked and home-produced: “By law, this type of accommodation must be run by farmers whose principal income derives from farming rather than tourism.” Barbara and Steve meet resident Italians who are enjoying a break from their busy town and city lives and rejoicing in the local cuisine rather than tourists like themselves. The couple are also willing students wherever they visit, learning a good deal to take home to their own farm. Olive culture, which of course is not part of their Appalachian land, is a fascinating new subject, and at every stop they are treated to their hosts’ experiences and their hosts’ firm faith in the superior quality of their own olive oil.
They return in October to our version of fall folk-art decorations and Hallowe’en celebrations with a new appreciation for their lavish variety. We are bound to feel more than a hint of the usual Canadian reaction of combined annoyance and amusement at Kingsolver’s description of the Montreal market as the “recently frozen north.” For the most part, however, we can share Kingsolver’s garden experiences completely, month by month. There is no small gardener who hasn’t felt victimised by the proliferating zucchini, and we all know the sensation of “Living in a Red State” that the tomato season brings with its overwhelming largesse. Animal, Vegetable, Miracle can be read as a self-help encyclopaedia on every aspect of gardening and on the possibility of a single family’s contribution to the greening of the planet. It can also be read simply as a many-faceted volume of adventures in food. In either case the book is fine and valuable entertainment.
Clara Thomas (Books in Canada)

From Publishers Weekly
In her engaging though sometimes preachy new book, Kingsolver recounts the year her family attempted to eat only what they could grow on their farm in Virginia or buy from local sources. The book's bulk, written and read by Kingsolver in a lightly twangy voice filled with wonder and enthusiasm, proceeds through the seasons via delightful stories about the history of their farmhouse, the exhausting bounty of the zucchini harvest, turkey chicks hatching and so on. In long sections, however, she gets on a soapbox about problems with industrial food production, fast food and Americans' ignorance of food's origins, and despite her obvious passion for the issues, the reading turns didactic and loses its pace, momentum and narrative. Her daughter Camille contributes recipes, meal plans and an enjoyable personal essay in a clear if rather monotonous voice. Hopp, Kingsolver's husband and an environmental studies professor, provides dry readings of the sidebars that have him playing Dr. Scientist, as Kingsolver notes in an illuminating interview on the last disc. Though they may skip some of the more moralizing tracks, Kingsolver's fans and foodies alike will find this a charming, sometimes inspiring account of reconnecting with the food chain.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From School Library Journal
Adult/High School–This book chronicles the year that Barbara Kingsolver, along with her husband and two daughters, made a commitment to become locavores–those who eat only locally grown foods. This first entailed a move away from their home in non-food-producing Tuscon to a family farm in Virginia, where they got right down to the business of growing and raising their own food and supporting local farmers. For teens who grew up on supermarket offerings, the notion not only of growing one's own produce but also of harvesting one's own poultry was as foreign as the concept that different foods relate to different seasons. While the volume begins as an environmental treatise–the oil consumption related to transporting foodstuffs around the world is enormous–it ends, as the year ends, in a celebration of the food that physically nourishes even as the recipes and the memories of cooks and gardeners past nourish our hearts and souls. Although the book maintains that eating well is not a class issue, discussions of heirloom breeds and making cheese at home may strike some as high-flown; however, those looking for healthful alternatives to processed foods will find inspiration to seek out farmers' markets and to learn to cook and enjoy seasonal foods. Give this title to budding Martha Stewarts, green-leaning fans of Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth (Rodale, 2006), and kids outraged by Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation (Houghton, 2001).–Jenny Gasset, Orange County Public Library, CA
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.