So it may or may not be the case that at one point the reader sat down with both this book on a year of local eating and a bag from McDonalds. I can promise you that if it were the case, this reader was aware of how incongruous and embarrassing it was.
In short, Kingsolver and her family (husband, two daughters) moved full-time to their property in Virginia, and after some time settling in, embarked on a year of knowing the provenance of their food. Most of it, they grew themselves (either in the plant or animal husbandry sense). While this was a big commitment (duh) this was a foodie family that had roots in the world of fresh, local, home-grown food. They had grown up with gardens; they cooked with fresh ingredients; the youngest had already been raising chickens. This contributed to the success of their project - imagine if they didn't already know how to cook - and helped communicate that the kinds of lifestyle changes involved are not (or at least don't need to be) great hardships. On the other hand, they started out from a point so far beyond where many American families currently reside... it's easy to get overwhelmed and think, this will never work for me.
I'm not a cook. I don't get excited about it. I wish I did. It seems so romantic in Kingsolver's description. It makes me want to try harder. At the very least, maybe I'll start going to farmer's markets again so that at least I know what's in season, even if I refuse to give up my bananas. (Hell, I live in Southern California - I have more access to fresh produce than almost anyone else in the country.)
As the book was winding down, I was planning this post around a frustration that I didn't real feel connected to what was happening in their lives. I didn't get a sense of adventure. I didn't see how it fit into the rest of the narrative of their lives (and apparently it was an eventful year). And then I got to the chapter about turkey mating and was utterly won over. And then I came to the final chapter, where Kingsolver confronts my troubles as a reader:
I am old enough to know I should never, ever, trust I've explained anything perfectly. Some part of the audience will always remain at large, confused or plain unconvinced. As I wind up this account, I'm weighing that. Is it possible to explain the year we had?This question, more than anything, made me feel comfortable with the book. It acknowledged the distance that would always remain, and I appreciated that.
Plus, seriously, fresh and local food. I promise.
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