Called the work of “a mesmerizing storyteller with deep compassion and memorable prose” (Publishers Weekly) and the book that, “anyone interested in natural history, botany, protecting nature, or Native American culture will love,” by Library Journal, Braiding Sweetgrass is poised to be a classic of nature writing. As a botanist, Robin Wall Kimmerer asks questions of nature with the tools of … nature with the tools of science. As a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, she embraces indigenous teachings that consider plants and animals to be our oldest teachers. Kimmerer brings these two lenses of knowledge together to take “us on a journey that is every bit as mythic as it is scientific, as sacred as it is historical, as clever as it is wise” (Elizabeth Gilbert). Drawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, a mother, and a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings offer us gifts and lessons, even if we’ve forgotten how to hear their voices.
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At the ASLE conference earlier this summer I heard this book referenced in a number of sessions.
And now, having read it, I realize why.
Braiding Sweetgrass is a rich collection of essays about plants and animals, indigenous and scientific awareness, and our tenuous relationship with nature. But more than that, it is the story of one woman’s journey, from a childhood of conflicting cultures to a scientific career of conflicting world views.
Along the way, Kimmerer, teaches us about how native cultures understood and interacted with nature and one another, contrasted against our current society, and its shortsightedness and recklessness.
She contrasts the Pledge of Allegiance her children were compelled to recite with the Onondoga Nation Thanksgiving Address and finds the Pledge of Allegiance sadly lacking:
As I grew to understand the gifts of the earth, I couldn’t understand how “love of country” could omit recognition of the actual country itself. The only promise it requires is to the flag. What of the promises to each other and to the land? What would it be like to be raised on gratitude, to speak to the natural world as a member of the democracy of species, to raise a pledge of interdependence?” And, later: “In the Thanksgiving Address, I hear respect respect toward all our nonhuman relatives, not on political entity, but to all of life. What happens to nationalism, to political boundaries, when allegiance lies with winds and waters that know no boundaries, that cannot be bought or sold?
My favorite essay is titled Learning the Grammar of Animacy and it concerns languages and how languages both reflect culture and reinforce it. In the essay, she is struggling to learn the Potawatomi language. She writes:
English is a noun-based language, somehow appropriate to a culture so obsessed with things. Only 30 percent of English words are verbs, but in Potawatomi that proportion is 70 percent. Which means that 70 percent of the words have to be conjugated, and 70 percent have different tenses and cases to be mastered. European languages often assign gender to nouns, but Potawatomi does not divide the world into masculine and feminine. Nouns and verbs are both animate and inanimate.
And despite the immense challenge of keeping this language alive (there are only 9 speakers left) the effort is well worth it. For the language has much to teach us about how we (Western language speakers) have grown up seeing and interacting with the world.
In English, we never refer to a member of our family, or indeed to any person, as it. That would be a profound act of disrespect. It robs a person of selfhood and kingship, reducing a person to a mere thing. So it is that in Potawatomi and most other indigenous languages, we use the same words to address the living world as we use for our family. Because they are family.
And this applies not just to nonhuman animals but any living thing.
When we tell them that the tree is not a who, but an it, we make that maple an object; we put a barrier between us, absolving ourselves of moral responsibility and opening the door to exploitation. Saying it makes a living land into “natural resources.” If a maple is an it, we can take up the chain saw. if a maple is a her, we think twice.
Kimmerer writes that “English doesn’t give us many tools for incorporating respect for animacy.” Indeed.
In an essay about her adventures as an instructor, it’s fascinating and frustrating to follow her field trip with a group of students (some of whom do not believe in global warming, let alone evolution) and her efforts to open their eyes to nature. She is the sort of hands-on, passionate and playful teacher that every student should have the benefit of knowing.
There is also great sadness in this book, in remembering the violence done to people and land, in our society’s seeming indifference to the mistakes we could so easily learn from. And yet she documents example upon example of people who are doing their very best, against great odds, to right the wrongs, to turn this sinking old ship around.
I did find one essay, titled The Honorable Harvest, curiously inconsistent. In it, Kimmerer profiles an animal trapper and fishing guide who is (to be fair) more humane and conservation-minded that most anyone around. But to call what he does honorable is a disservice to animals. True, he (and others) do protect land and animals, but must we sacrifice a portion of animals in return? I don’t see honor in killing animals, no matter what emotional or philosophical counterbalance is employed. Kimmerer is an excellent wordsmith which is why I find it odd to see “honorable harvest” used in place of a more accurate phrase, “sustainable slaughter.”
But I must admit that if most people were to read and embrace the lessons of this book that this planet and its creatures would be so much better off.
I can see why this book came up in so many ASLE sessions, because it touches on so many issues — family, native peoples, land stewardship, our conflicted relationships with animals and one another.
While so many nonfiction books I read these days lead me from one bleak conclusion to another, this book left me feeling hopeful. Because the author is hopeful, and stubborn, and smart and one hell of writer. Robin Wall Kimmerer doesn’t just point out the many challenges we face as a planet but she points a way forward.
Braiding Sweetgrass
Milkweed Press
NOTE: This review was first published on EcoLitBooks.com.
Braiding Sweetgrass is a mesmerizing book that weaves together myth, indigenous teachings, and modern botany. The author is both a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and professor of plant ecology, and she brings a perspective to science writing that’s sorely needed. This is one to read outside on a sunny summer day — trust me!
4.5 Stars.
In this collection of essays, Robin Wall Kimmerer, a Native American woman who holds a PhD in Botany, weaves together apparently disparate beliefs into a healthy, hopeful whole. She argues that traditional ways of viewing the world and the scientific process complement rather than detract from each other. In a world facing climate change; the thorny problem of Superfund sites; and rapidly-depleting, unequally-distributed resources, people should honor both traditions, care for the earth, and start living in sustainable ways.
If you look at all six of the genres I’ve placed this book in, you can tell that it defies description. The title sounds boring to me. I had to take a plant taxonomy class in college. While I enjoyed learning the names of things, I didn’t like learning about the plants themselves. Photosynthesis, xylem and phloem, or pinnate versus palmate leaves? Give me animal systems any day.
And yet I found myself completely engrossed in Dr. Kimmerer’s essays. This is so much more than “a book about plants.” She weaves together Native American mythology (largely from her Potawatomi heritage but drawing from other sources as well), her scientific background, her personal history, and her Nation’s history, leading me to feel that there is a better way forward for our planet. We should be aware of what we take from the earth and what we give in return. We should be thankful for each gift the earth gives us (spoiler alert: everything is a gift). Rather than brushing off Native American ways as superstition, scientists should learn from and study them. She cites several studies she took part in that completely reinforced Native traditions and turned scientific assumptions on their ear.
Dr. Kimmerer’s writing is beautiful and I would love to include some meaningful quotes here. But I honestly would have just highlighted and re-written the entire book if I’d tried. Her thoughts aren’t really expressed in “soundbites.” She builds her argument with stories and leads you to her conclusions and there’s no real way to select any small section as a representative whole. Which is largely the point that she makes about our relationship with nature: we’re all a part of the whole.
The library has a waiting list that is weeks, if not months, long, so I was in a rush to finish before I had to return it and start over at the back of the line. I simply ran out of steam by the last couple of essays so I knocked my rating back half a star. Maybe I lost interest or maybe those essays weren’t quite of the same quality as the earlier ones–I’m not sure.
I highly recommend this to anyone who is willing to embark on a reflective journey of learning about and honoring our planet. If you can swing it, pick up your own copy so you can savor it by reading an essay at a time here and there.
Never would I have expected that a book about plants, the science of botany, indigenous wisdom, and our educational system, to have been so moving or had such an impact on how I view my place in the world. Kimmerer writes with such love for all living things that you will not be the same person upon finishing this book that you were when you started. One must savor this book by enjoying its slow, sensuous unfolding, its majestic poetry, its mesmerizing storytelling where the most important drama often takes place beneath the ground. And yet what happens there makes all the difference. The most fundamental knowledge one needs to live, Kimmerer shows, is “present in the land.” My role, she has convinced me, is “not to control, or change the world as a human, but to learn from the world how to be human.”
This is a good read for anyone seeking a greater understanding of ecological consciousness and the consequences of the way we live now.
Robin Kimmerer is a Native American scientist, naturalist, and natural-born storyteller. Her book is a work of non-fiction that explores creation and the environment from an Indigenous people’s point of view.
This book has been in my TBR pile for a couple of years. Inspired to pick it up now as a relief from current events, it was a balm to my soul. In the hands of this Native American botanist who cares deeply about the world around us, RWK taught me natural history, climate challenges, geography, the joys of growing one’s own food, and the importance of family and social connection. Read it!
This book is quite special. By weaving indigenous teachings and scientific findings into stories from her life, the author offers hopeful possibilities as to what humans are capable of achieving if only we’d work in harmony with the planet and all its inhabitants. As a child, I was convinced humans were meant to be the gardeners of the earth (not its overlords), and this book reaffirms those beliefs. I’ve now incorporated the prayer of thanks into my daily routine, and I plan to return to these stories often for inspiration.
A most exceptional story that needs to be told over and over until we get it right. Beautifully written, it got my heart where it hurts.
This book has so much to recommend it! Full of advice about ceremony, being present in the world, the power of how you frame a question, why science alone is not enough, and much more. While it discusses some unpleasant aspects of history the writer is truthful but never bitter.
Kimmerer is a beautiful storyteller. She will make you fall in love with and learn new respect for the Land and all it gives us. The chapter titled “Burning Cascade Head” brought tears to my eyes. If only the world could see the Land thru the eyes of the indigenous people, it would be a far better place, not only in terms of climate change, but also humanity. “Take only what you need. Never take more than half. Leave some for others.”
Great blend of botany, science, indigenous knowledge, while directing your thoughts to the future and climatic and anthropogenic changes.
So many meaningful stories and teachings. Loved this work.
Beautifully written and highly engaging espousal of Native American mythology and how that world view intersects with her own life and the present day world we all live in. Highly recommended.