Village in Crisis by Peter R. Sinclair and Kenneth Westhues

This book, written in the mid 1970s, tackles the issues encountered by villages on the fringes of cities as they face urbanization and expansion. The authors use a southern Ontario town, referred to only as Fringetown to examine what makes a village and the challenges villages encounter in the modern, industrial and heavily capitalist world.

Fringetown is described as being “on the fringe of Toronto.” This description along with talk of a gorge, the first apartment buildings and other notable landmarks, clued me into the real identity of Fringetown quite early. The town examined in this small volume is in fact Elora, a tourist trap not far from my own town.

Whatever the town may have been in 1974 when this book was printed, the town is not that anymore. I call it a tourist trap, because that’s what it is. Old buildings are picturesquely restored and kept up, small shops sell tea and you don’t have to walk far in the downtown to stumble upon an antique or craft shop. It’s the kind of stifling place that on a Saturday in August you would have trouble walking down the sidewalk without finding a crowd of tourists. It’s one of those pretend small towns. In a pretend small town, if a general store exists it is for the benefit of the tourists, not the locals.

Village in Crisis does not touch much on tourism. The authors in their research are more concerned with the friction between what they call old-timers (those who have lived in Fringetown 7+ years) and new-timers. Ideology, value of religion, class differences and age are all considered.

 In Fringetown, it seems, part of the population wanted to preserve the town as it was, keeping out apartment buildings and anything that appeared too urban, like a plain car wash. The other part of the population hungered for the material prosperity of the cities that had been denied to them over the past decades because they lacked urbanization. It was mostly the new-timers that sought to preserve and the old-timers that sought urbanization and economic prosperity. Few of the old-timers had any problem with the apartment buildings that were proposed and then built.

The authors propose one theory that attributes the split in opinion to a split in the value of the village to the two groups. The new-timers arrived in the village looking for a physical setting that they did not wish to change. They valued the village for its aesthetics, while the old-timers valued the village for the sense of community it created. The authors suggest that the old-timers were more urbanized then the new-timers who had fled the city, because the old-timers saw urbanization as something that would economically benefit the community. They had no problem with things like apartment building because they did not see a building as a threat against the sense of community. While this theory has sense, I’m sure it was and is not quite so black and white.

What caught me off guard in my reading of this volume was the sudden turn to Marxism in the final chapter. Sinclair and Westhues suggest that as Fringetown becomes more and more urban and more a part of mass society, the individual will become alienated. The authors directly quote and refer to Marx’s theory of alienation, in which the worker is alienated from his work because he has no control over the final products of his labour. This is considered, by Marx, an unnatural state.  

Alienation, Sinclair and Westhues suggest, will occur, with the demise of the traditional village. The village, as it urbanizes, becomes less and less of an autonomous economic unit, but despite the urbanization and industrialization, technology has had very little change on the distribution of wealth. In other words, the people of the village will not really be better off.  The book effectively closes with the authors announcing that Canada’s capitalist structure has a tendency to perpetuate this alienation.

As someone who endorses many of the values of socialism and as someone intrigued by the writings of Marx, I find this volume, as a whole, thought provoking and satisfying. It doesn’t matter whether the readers finds themselves agreeing or disagreeing with Sinclair and Westhues, the authors offer, in Village in Crisis, a fascinating and thought provoking study of the effects of urbanization on the small town. 

Arrowsmith by Lewis Sinclair

I bought this title not because of the author, or because of the plot, or even because the name Arrowsmith sounded attractive. I purchased it because of the publisher and the series it is a part of. To most readers the name “Modern Library” means nothing, but to me it means a great deal. The “Modern Library” series, which first began publication in 1917, was the American answer to the British series, “Everyman’s Library”. The goal of both series was to provide quality titles at affordable prices. Today, both “Everyman’s Library” and “Modern Library” have become collectibles. I’ve been in bookstores, where depending on the title and the year of publication, a “Modern,” or “Everyman’s” Library can sell for upwards of $25. The books are even more desirable if they contain the dust jackets they originally came with.

I am lucky enough to own a few “Everyman’s Library” books with the jackets in decent condition, but all of the “Modern Library” books that I have do not have the dust jackets. That is okay though, because I collect the books not for their value in dollars, but for their aesthetic value and for their content.

Buying this title, Arrowsmith, for its aesthetic value was a good move because the content is just as satisfying. The novel follows the life of Martin Arrowsmith, a medical student, a doctor, and a bacteriologist who researches the cures and causes of diseases. From the start the reader understands that Martin is not like the other medical students in his class. He desires more in life than a large paycheck and he’s not the kind who traverses easily in society. With his marriage, he tries to settle down and be a country doctor, but he can’t force himself to focus on the people he’s healing. Martin cares more for the laboratory and for research.

He rides a fine line throughout the book, sometimes being his true self, the man who spends days without sleep tucked away in a laboratory doing careful experiments and rejecting the shallowness of high society, and his false self, a man who seeks fame, fortune and the good opinion of others. In the end, he rejects his false self.

The book, although it took me to the very end to realize it, warns against trading your soul for dollars, rejects capitalism, and endorses introversion, the use of the mind and a dedication to the work that a person loves, regardless of its social implications. It’s, in a way, a study of society and of the introverted intellectual within society.

A few shallow lines by Martin’s soon to be ex-wife near the end of the novel, does leave some things open to discussion, however. The reader is left wondering whether Martin is egotistical in sacrificing the people and the world around him for his work, or whether he is a kind of fighter for freedom, symbolizing that the work we love is worth the sacrifice. I like to see him as a symbol of freedom. Martin is not content until he finally rejects his false self and embraces in full the kind of life and dedication to his work that he desires. 

Source for History of Modern Library: 

Toledano, Henry. "History of the Modern Library." N.p., 2002. Web. Aug. 2013. <http://www.modernlib.com/General/ToleHistroySpeech.html>.

Riders of the Purple Sage, By Zane Grey

Zane Grey; I can’t get enough of his books. I used to hate their slightly cheesy plots and over-emphasized attention to the details of setting and landscape, but these days I find something strangely attractive about the less than perfect prose. Zane Grey had a style all his own that keeps me returning again and again to his western novels.

In this particular novel, Riders of the Purple Sage, an unmarried Mormon woman, Jane Withersteen, is determined to be independent and run her own ranch after the death of her father. Disagreements with the town elders expose her to rustlers and violence. In the midst of her problems, Lassiter, an infamous man of violence comes to the town, searching for the grave of a woman Jane was very close to. Lassiter allies himself with Jane and signs on to her payroll to help her protect her property and the lives of her hired men. Like many of Zane Grey’s novels, Riders of the Purple Sage tackles both romance and the moral dilemmas encountered in both love and violence. It is a prime example of why a hundred years later readers are still picking up the works of Zane Grey. 

Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly, By Anthony Bourdain

 Yesterday, as I browsed the shelves of a thrift-store, I saw this title, Kitchen Confidential. For a dollar and a half, it was mine. It peaked my interest, not because I have a desire to become a professional chef and slave out my days in the kitchens of high profile restaurants, but because I currently work in the kitchen of a very casual, family-dinning type restaurant. It’s the kind of place that specializes in so called home cooked meals, like meatloaf, chicken and mashed potatoes.

I know all too well the string of a hot metal against skin, the way steam can burst up and leave a patch on your arm like a bad sunburn, and the blistering that oil burns leave behind. I know what it’s like when the orders seem to shoot out of the machine faster than I can get the chicken into the broaster and the vegetables into the steamer. I’ve had servers on my back, begging for their fish and chips, ‘cause table seven’s already been waiting fifteen minutes.'

I guess by reading Anthony Bourdain’s book, I was reminded that the kitchen I work in is a relatively low stress environment, compared to the places that hire full-fledged chefs. In fact, Bourdain’s world is far removed from mine. Some of the details Bourdain writes sound like they’re coming straight out a Hollywood movie. He’s got trash-talking chefs, crooked seafood salesmen, drug addicts, and even the mafia. The frightening part is that it all sounds true and as far as this reader knows, it is.

Bourdain’s book is autobiographical. He traces his life through food, from his first taste of an oyster as a child, to his first restaurant job as a dish washer—incidentally I’ve been a dishwasher too—all the way up to jobs as a head chef at high profile restaurants. He’s brutally honest as he describes the colourful people he’s encountered over the years. He’s honest about the work and dedication required too. In the restaurant industry, when everybody else is getting off work, the cooks are just getting on. When the rest of the world is enjoying Christmas Eve, or Easter Sunday, or Canada Day, cooks and servers are putting in extra hours, dashing about with sore feet and fraying nerves.

As for this book, if you don’t mind the language and sexual innuendo, Anthony Bourdain has written a decent read. The book is good motivation; I’ll definitely be working hard at University this fall because I’d rather not spend my life in “the life.” 

The Holistic Garden by Karen York

I feel a sudden desire to spread used coffee grounds under my rose bushes, to get a rain barrel and to spray my powdery mildew infested roses with a mixture of nine parts water and one part milk. Suddenly, I’m imagining landscaping projects, new plants and what my lawn would look like if I tore up all the grass in favour of the natural, wildflower look.

All I did was sit down and read Karen York’s book. I’m a gardener and good books about gardening get me excited, but this one is especially unique. York addresses the concept of the garden as a place of healing and stress relief.

The “healing” York has in mind is not physical healing, but rather the process of using nature “to restore a person to spiritual wholeness,” and to set right the relationship between ourselves and the earth.

It comes as no surprise to me when York notes the therapeutic effects of nature and of the act of gardening. I discovered a number of years ago the power weeding as a method for stress relief. The more time I spend in my garden, the happier and more peaceful I feel.

In her book, York covers everything from soil quality and landscape setup, to rooftop gardens, wild flowers and edible plants. One of the most interesting chapters was the one on soil, titles “A Sense of Humus.”

In chapter one York discusses eight elements of the “Healing Garden” design. An inviting entry, diverse and interesting sensual stimulation, enclosure, a sense of mystery, natural forms, light/ dark, and places for one person or more, are all important aspects of York’s ideal garden.

One of my favourite observations made by York is a reminder that “the garden is not an escape from reality; it’s an escape to reality.”

York is concerned with having things in harmony with each other and with letting the garden be natural. She stresses biodiversity and water conservation. She criticizes the modern concept of having a monoculture lawn, calling the traditional yard a “blandscape.” She rejects tilling and favours natural remedies for pests and plant diseases over chemical ones.

“One person’s wildflower is another person’s weed,” York writes. The line is telling of her whole philosophy. It all comes down to synergy. Every system in nature is synergenic, meaning “the whole produces a different effect from what the parts produce on their own.” Because everything interrelates, it must be balanced.

York’s gardening advice is not just practical, but is philosophical too. This makes sense. When it comes to gardening, the practical and the philosophical have always been interwoven in my mind. If you’re a serious gardener, or becoming a serious gardener, this book is definitely worth a read.

 As a final thought, York says, “The garden grows with you, and you grow with the garden in a mutual search for balance and serenity.”

My Antonia, by Willa Cather

Last Christmas, while on vacation, I picked this up at a bookstore in the states. I have to admit, most of the pioneer literature I have read up until this point has been Canadian literature. I’m not opposed to American pioneer stories. I just prefer Canadian ones because as a Canadian, I can relate to them more. It also seems to be my duty as a Canadian to prefer Canadian over American literature. Preferences aside, My Antonia was a fair book. It was more than fair, actually. I loved it.

I was in need of a good story, rather than something intellectually stimulating. Willa Cather knew how to write good characters, although at first I questioned her POV choice. How could a female author looking to explore the life of a pioneer woman chose a male narrator? After my reading, I think I understand part of why Cather chose a male narrator.

The pioneer women of the novel are in a world run by men. In the case of Antonia, the woman whose life is most closely examined, she is forced to be a breadwinner for her family, working alongside her brother in the fields and then going to town to be a maid, while giving the majority of her money to her brother and to the farm. Antonia, like many of her friends,  lives in a world where she must try to play both a man and a woman’s role in order to survive. By having a male narrator tell the story, Cather displays the similarities between Antonia, a woman, and the narrator, a man, in the pioneer world. The result is that Antonia appears as a strong, heroic woman.

My theory aside, the characters and life of the setting were superb. I really loved the way the land is described by the narrator. Through his eyes we see the beauty of Nebraska and the wildness of it at the time that the narrator is recalling.

Next time you’re in a book store, head to the classics section and give this one a try. My copy is a Barnes and Noble Classics printing, which I paid about $5 for. 

The English Woman in America by Isabella Bird

The English Woman in America is an older book, first published in 1856. The slow paced memoir details the author’s experiences traveling in North American in the 1850s. Although Isabella Bird seems to be the stereotypical English snob, she does offer insight into what some of the cities of the Canada and the United States of the 1850s looked like.

At the time of publication, English women probably identified quite easily with Bird. She was the daughter of a clergyman and seems to have followed and understood most of the normalities of her society. The things that cast her in bad light today were perfectly normal frames of mind at the time.

Throughout the book I can see clear evidence of her anti-Catholic and anti-Irish point of view. She even bashes the French for introducing Catholicism to the native peoples of Canada. If that weren’t enough to make me dislike her, she also puts on airs, describing the impropriety of the way ‘the help’ in Canada behaves. She relates a story of servant who, after serving the family a meal, sits down to read a book on the family’s sofa. The family reprimands her and she refuses to work for them any longer, saying she will not work for a family that refuses to let a young lady improve her mind. Bird makes light of the fact that many of the servants in Canada see themselves as respectable, or as ‘ladies.’

At one point I really had to laugh at the airs she put on. While on the road from one city to another, she laments at being served mint tea instead of the regular china-leaf variety. In my reading of memoirs I have encountered few more infuriating narrators.

While Isabella Bird was no doubt adventurous, she did not possess the capacity to be opened minded to anyone who was not like herself. In describing the world around her, she sets everyone who is different from her, as below her. Perhaps she did it unintentionally, but she did it all the same.