History, an absolutely fascinating look at the lengths the British went to in order to gain access to Chinese tea, and the ways in which tea made empire possible. The story is centered around Robert Fortune, a real life frontier botanist employed by the East India Company, who (despite internal wrangling within the Company as well as within the botanist world) ventured deep into the hinterlands of China and smuggled out tea plants and seeds to the rest of the world, breaking China’s monopoly. Rose also uses Britain’s tea trade as a jumping-off point to explore colonization, opium, and how tea made empire possible. My favorite quote: “What the world has sought when it sips a cup of tea is a mild effect, a high with neither lift nor letdown, a calming alertness, a drink of moods. What Fortune found in Wuyi Shan was Britain’s reigning temper: the thrill to conquer, but politely.”
Tag: genre-history
Empire of Pain: the Secret History of the Sackler Dynasty, by Patrick Radden Keefe
This book follows three generations of the Sackler family as they make their fortune, spread their wealth around via conspicuous philanthropy, and then find themselves defending their name from the fallout of their actions. Keefe creates in-depth profiles of each of the Sacklers, using their own words as well as firsthand accounts from their friends, associates, and employees, to trace their evolution as people as well as pharmaceutical advertisers. The writing is compelling and increasingly enraging, especially as the account moves into the OxyContin years; with an avalanche of damning facts, the book lays bare the Sacklers’ singleminded pursuit of profit even as their culpability in the nation’s opioid crisis becomes impossible to ignore.
The Trials of Nina McCall, by Scott W. Stern
Nonfiction, a deeply detailed and infuriating delve into the American Plan, a little-known and widespread government program, which for decades empowered authorities to detain women on the flimsiest of premises, perform invasive procedures on them without consent, imprison them without trial or hope of appeal, and force them to undergo dangerous and ineffective treatments if (highly unreliable) tests found them to have venereal diseases. This program ensnared and abused tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands, of American women, including the titular Nina McCall; when the program finally faded, it was buried from history. The book was clearly well-researched and the subject is horrifying, but unfortunately the writing drowned the reader in mind-numbing detail; it if weren’t for the urgent subject matter (and the fact that I had a book club deadline), I likely would not have forced myself through to the end.
Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee, by Casey Cep
Began as a true-crime story of an Alabama minister suspected of causing multiple deaths for insurance payouts in the 1970s, and segued into Harper Lee, her investigation of this trial, and her fraught writing journey. I really enjoyed this book, which did a beautiful job of patiently sketching out the environment and ambience of the small-town South, as well as pulling together an incredibly sympathetic and emotional portrait of Lee.
The Premonitions Bureau: A True Account of Death Foretold, by Sam Knight
Traces the efforts of a psychiatrist who (in cooperation with a journalist) attempted to collect premonitions of disaster, that they might be recorded, verified, and quantified. Of those, the vast majority came to nothing but a couple of “superstar” prophets seemed able to repeatedly foresee accidents like plane crashes. The book spends a lot more time digging into the personalities involved, as well as the science of psychology at the time, than the “bureau” itself… but to be fair the project did eventually fizzle out without causing much lasting change, so without those asides the book would be a lot shorter.
Dandelion, by Jamie Chai Yun Liew
Lily is the child of two ethnic Chinese who immigrated to Canada from Brunei. Her father, who was stateless (without citizenship) in Brunei, wholeheartedly embraces his Canadian citizenship and identity; in contrast, her mother cannot (or will not) adapt to the colder, drier climate and longs to return. This conflict culminates in the mother’s abrupt departure, which haunts Lily until she becomes a mother herself. Seeking closure, she sets out to find out what happened to her mother. The writing style is simple and sometimes a bit awkward, but the novel is touching, with themes of culture clash, mental illness, citizenship, belonging, and how family ties can support and stifle in equal measure.
Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy’s Guide to the Constitution, by Elie Mystal
Mystal’s take on the Constitution of the United States is essentially this: it was written by white male supremacists interested in codifying white male supremacy, and then interpreted and enforced by further white male supremacists interested in retaining said supremacy; this has continued right up through to the current day, with only occasional hard-fought moments of relief. He backs this up with quotations, facts from the historical record, and examples from current events. Mystal does not spare liberals either, excoriating them for working within a system designed to promote inequality, instead of fixing the racist foundations. His tone is educated, snarky, occasionally profane, and incredibly readable; the only reason I couldn’t devour this in one go is because there is only so much rage I can handle (and corroborating examples from the news) before I need to give my brain a break.
How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America, by Clint Smith
I cannot tell you how good this book was. Smith dives deeply into plantations, memorials, cemeteries, prisons, and his own family oral history; he gathers viewpoints directly from docents and other visitors, and lets their words stand next to what facts can be gleaned from the historical record. He talks with people who have set ideas on what their history is, and with those who are still open to learning more; he interrogates the stories that Americans tell themselves about their shared history, and where those stories originated (very often as propaganda). He wanders through the American landscape as if it’s a crime scene, which it very much is; not only were horrific crimes committed here against so many, but the crime against Black America is still unfolding, and the weight of it affects everything we do and defines who we are. The narration is often punctuated by piercing insights, and the prose is just beautiful. Truly amazing portrait of how far we’ve come, where we are now, and how far we have yet to go in reckoning with the impact of slavery in America.
Four Lost Cities: A Secret History of the Urban Age, by Annalee Newitz
This was fantastic! Newitz studies four cities from previous civilizations (Çatalhöyük in Central Turkey, Pompeii in Italy, Angkor in Cambodia, and Cahokia in the US) and uses archaeologists’ findings to bring them to life with incredibly vivid detail, describing both the inhabitants’ everyday existence as well as their social and cultural dynamics. She explores the rise and growth of the cities as well as their decline for various reasons; although all these cities now lie buried, she still finds lessons in their existence. I love how she finds both warning and celebration in the ruins: yes, communities can rise and fall, but look how beautifully we built something together.
This Place: 150 Years Retold
This is a collaborative graphic novel anthology, each story highlighting a person or a historical moment in the Indigenous people’s fight to survive in Canada. As the foreword says, each Indigenous story is a post-apocalyptic survival tale, which makes every Indigenous person a hero. Each contribution is prefaced with a timeline of events, unavoidable evidence of the government’s ongoing determination to stamp out Native cultures and Native people, and the stories shine a light on atrocities that the government would prefer to paper over, as well as on heroes that should be more widely celebrated. The book actually reminded me most of Four Hundred Souls, Ibram Kendi and Keisha Blain’s collaborative history of African America; like that book, it draws an unmistakable line from the government’s first racist actions to those of today, and also leaves you awed by the strength of all those who fought and survived.