Notes From An Italian Garden
by Joan Marble
I wanted to like this book. Wanted it so much that I slogged through to the end and even read the epilogue, a slightly preachy summation where she touted gardening as the cure to every modern ill--pollution, noise, haste, spiritual ennui.
But you can guess that I didn't. Endless listings of beautiful blossoms did little for me when I didn't recognize the flowers and couldn't build mental pictures of them. The written descriptions didn't jump off the page and open up in my mind. If I were an aficionado of flower gardening or if I'd read it with a seed catalog handy, I might have had a better experience. I guess I'm just too prosaic--I like pretty flowers but I prefer my garden to be toothsome.
The funny parts were funny. Especially the animal invasions. If you come across a copy of this, read the funny parts but skim the flowery ones.
No comments:
Post a Comment